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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
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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
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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
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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
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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.
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‘‘ 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.
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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.
�
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The freedom of the gospel [and] The labourers in the vineyard
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Stanley, Arthur Penrhyn
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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.
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“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?"
�
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A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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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.
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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'.
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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.
�
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The collapse of the faith: or, the deity of Christ as now taught by the orthodox
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Carrol, William George [1821-1885] (ed)
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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.'
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Thomas Scott; R.D. Webb
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[1871]
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Jesus Christ
Faith
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Atonement
Belief and Doubt
Conway Tracts
Jesus Christ
Sermons
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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.
�
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Victorian Blogging
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A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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Conway Hall Library & Archives
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2018
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Conway Hall Ethical Society
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The church of the present, and the church of the future: an address, delivered in the Congregational Chapel, Moseley Road, Birmingham, 5th May 1870
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Macfie, Matthew
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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'.
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E.C. Osborne; Simpkin Marshall & Co.
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1876
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G5370
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Sermons
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Conway Tracts
Sermons
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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.
�
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A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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2018
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Conway Hall Ethical Society
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Robert Collyer and his church: a discourse delivered at the First Congregational Unitarian Church in Philadelphia November 12, 1871
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Furness, W.H.
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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".
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King & Baird, printers
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[1871]
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G5367
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Unitarianism
Sermons
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Conway Tracts
Robert Collyer
Sermons
Unitarianism
United States-Religion
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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 ”
��
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Victorian Blogging
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A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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Conway Hall Library & Archives
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2018
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Conway Hall Ethical Society
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Inaugural discourse at St. George's Hall, on Sunday 1st October, 1871
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Voysey, Charles
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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".
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Conway Tracts
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Text
��M !■ ETI N Ci; O F
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January 12, 1876,
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January 12, 1823.
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��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
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�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 !’ ”
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�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
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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.
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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
�
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A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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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
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Furness, W.H.
First Congregational Society of Unitarian Christians in the City of Philadelphia
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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.
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Sherman & Co., printers
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1875
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Unitarianism
Sermons
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<a href="http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/"><img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /></a><span> </span><br /><span>This work (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>
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Conway Tracts
First Congregational Society of Unitarian Christians in the City of Philadelphia
Sermons
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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.
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�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.
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�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
�
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A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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Discourses on occasion of the dedication of Hope-Street New Church, Liverpool, Thursday, October 18, and Sunday, October 21, 1849
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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.
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Madge, Thomas
Martineau, James
Wicksteed, Charles
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1849
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John Chapman
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Conway Tracts
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Text
DISCOURSE
Believe olgrnE
and thou shat.t
be saved.—JLcis xvi, 31.
Such was the burden of the first teaching of the Re
ligion upon wh^M^^^^^fe/bjMMisten d om is based.
Its first mi|^H^ appeared, declaring to all men, both
small
thajMMjtedoe^^S. in one Jesus of
Nazareth they would be saved.
What precisely was in
when they thus
talked of being saved, I do not undertake to say. But the
fact that, believing in Jesus, a man was delivered from evil
inclin%tiffl|n^Bb'e|^faB^^^Eel|i|hioned after a new
and high
jSp^ind humane, became conscious!
not only of a sense of safety, but of an ineffable peace of
mind, such as he had never known before,—this fact, I
do venture to say, was a salvation in the fullest meaning
of the word. If
teachySwhad any other mean
ing than thislfflcmM not possibly have been anything
better, nor so good. E®was a salvation worth giving
one’s life for.
It was strikingly illustrated in those first teachers them
selves. From being private, obscure persons, they became
�4
FAITH IN CHRIST
through their faith in Christ men of extraordinary mark,
of indomitable energy, stirring the world with their speech,
Fforming everywhere associations of men that gradually
■’evolutionized empires, and, notwithstanding manifold
(sufferings, conscious all the while of a joy that made the
prisons into which they were thrown ring with their glad
hymns.
The same thing wag shown also in great numbers of
their followers, both men and women, in old men and
tender girls, who, for their faith in Christ, with perfect
composure, nay, with an air of triumph, confronted the
horrors of the Roman theatrAl where they were flung to
be consumed in flames or torn in pieces by wild beasts.
Is it not, then, a matter of great interest to ascertain
how and why it was thatlwith faith in Christ, there came
so vital a change, so great a gaBation ?
And it is the more, interesting because there is still in
these days what bears the same name, Faith in Christ.
Whole nations are professing it. But it is not attended
by anything like the same Effects. Thousands signify
their profession of it bwolemn forms, but, between them
and others, what difference is there to see to, unless it be
that of the two, the latter are oftentimes the more agree
able in their manners^ and the more trustworthy in affairs,
while the former are noted chieflv for a punctilious oblervance of certain forms and a Scrupulous abstinence from
certain social amusements^ Beyond this, what now passes
for Christian Faith shows no remarkable force. It does
not keep the heart pure, nor save it from being eaten out
by pride, and intolerance, and a greed for money, that
�FAITH IN CHRIST
5
leads men to do the meanest things and the hardest. It
is no salvation from an abject deference to the way of the
world, or from the fanatical ambition which is driving so
many to sacrifices self-resp@cteihonor, and conscience to a
brilliant appearance and to social position. Does our
modern faith in Christ inspire any special enthusiasm for
Humanity, or what efforts in that behalf does it prompt,
save in fashionable ways, and- by popular methods, sub
scribing money and the liH3| It neither renders people
more amiable, nor gives them the cheerful air of a great
peace and joy in their believing.
Surely if our faith Md that ancient faith are one and
the same thing, it has undergone in this respect a mighty
change. It no longer saves men in the old-fashioned way.
It is claimed for it that it saves them from future and
eternal torments. I do not know about that. It certainly
does not, what it once did, save them now. Whence this
great difference ? What made the old faith such a power ?
The first thingEl J)
as Helping us to an
answer to thiMueswonT is this : in those early times faith
in Christ was n(ai)O|uSE safe, but very unpopular
and very unsafe. Indeed it was as much as a man’s life!
was worth, so much as to whisper the name of Christ with
respect in the car of his b(j§rm friend. It instantly ex
posed him to be shunned, pointed at, informed against
by his nearest of kin, put in peril of being hooted atJ
mobbed, stoned to death in the street.
What then is the conclusive presumption ? Why that
no one in his senses could then have been found believing
in Christ, unless he had been so mightily moved thereto
�6
FAITH IN CHRIST
that he could not for his life help it, unless there had
entered into him a power sharper than any two-edged
sword, piercing to the marrow. Understanding, heart,
conscience, all that was within him, must have wrought
to create in him faith in Christ. What else was there to
induce a man to believe in Christ? Everything else,
every interest in life, wen directly and most powerfully
*
the other way, to drive men off, as they valued their lives,
from so much as looking at his alleged claims. His
bare name was odious in the extreme, a great deal worse
than the name of Abolitionists some few years ago, and
that was bad enough, as you all know. It stood for
everything hateful, for the rankest Atheism, for the turn
ing of the world upside down, for deadly hatred of gods
and men.
The Christian Faith of those days, therefore, must have
been a most intimate personal conviction. It could have
been nothing else. It was not a hearsay, a tradition, nor
a phrase. It was no fancy. There was nothing to catch
the fancy about a man who had suffered the vilest of
deaths, but everything to shock and repel the fancy. It
was not a mere opinion. . Neither was it a faith which a
man might assert that he had, but did not know for cer
tain. It was the genuine thing, Faith, nothing less or
other.
Now we all know that Faith, properly so called, is one
of the greatest forces, if not the very greatest force, in all
known nature. It is the support which upholds the com
merce and prosperity of nations. Steam, electricity, mag
netism, powerful as they are, are its household servants,
�FAITH IN CHRIST
Mountains sink and valleys rise at its bidding.
7
It is
annihilating time and space. It is the men who believe
in the things which they aim at, who turn stumbling
blocks into stepping stones. They are the born rulers
upon whom all things and all men wait. They discover
and conquer new worlds. |gH|was the quality of Faith
in Christ at the first. It was faith ad no mistake.
Being thus a true, ISSg conviction, it could not be
concealed. It could no more be kept to itself, as you
now keeg your sceptical doubts to yourselves, than fire
can be kept to itself in the midst of dry straw. I have
no doubt that most, if not all, of those who, in those
early daysyvi|re ^‘Oju>g^^^^elieve InyTesus were brought
to it, at th e first, with great reluctance. The instant
there flashed upon them
of a favorable
leaning towards him, ^haW gKdEr must have gone
through them! It madp their hearts beat quick, you may
depend, and their cheeks flush and turn white, and the
sweat to stand in great beads upon their foreheads, as
there glared upon them the awful doom to be met, if they
dared to yield to this new and dangerous influence. Thus
they must have shrunk from it with affright, even while,
and even because, they felt themselves drawn towards it.
The inevitable effect oOtheESggfe to keep it off was
to make them think, no| tlfegM but the more, of the
perilous subject that was draSg them to itself with a
force not their own, as .with the clutch of Fate. Was
there anything that could drive it deeper and deeper into
their hearts, like trying to keep it out, trying to forget it ?
The arrow that had pierced them was barbed. The effort
�8
FAITH IN CHRIST
to get away from the object of their faith, forced them
into closer acquaintance with it. And the nearer they ap
proached it, the more powerful grew its attraction, and
the more their interest in it increased, until they were
so helpless to resist it that they had to speak out or die.
They might keep it secret for awhile, so long as their
dread of turning friends into'ifoes and of suffering perse
cution was stronger than their new conviction. But this
conviction, being alive, was sure to grow, as we have just
seen, and to keep growing. The spring of a new life,
opened within them steadily rising, would, sooner or
*
later, float them over all their fears, and bear them right
onward into the very thick of th dangers that menaced
*
them. In fine, the cl^mge%taking place in them, would
be sure to betray itself, if not in one way then in another;
most probably in the first place, by their lukewarmness
in the observance of their old religious customs and by
their neglect of the altars of the gods. A word spoken,
nay, a word unspoked silence, might blab it. Accord
ingly they would be forced,^sooner or later, to confess the
faith that they had embraced, or, rather, that had em
braced them.
Here we see another reason why the primitive faith
had such extraordinary power. The open profession of
it instantly summoned into active service one’s whole man
hood. The best that was in a man had to come right to
the front. There was an immediate necessity for all his
courage and fortitude. Hesitation, fear, had to be trampled
under foot. Do you wonder,—does it seem hard to under
stand,—how a simple faith in Christ, now so easy, should
�FAITH IN CHRIST
3
have had such power, power to work the most difficult km
changes, rarely witnessed,., the change of the persoiSd
character, the salvation of the soul ? The wonder ceases,
the fact is in great part explained, when we consider the
circumstances in which this^aith wiiconceived and con
fessed. It was in the immediate presence of danger, and
of death in the frightfullest shapes, and at the cost of the
tendere&i ties.
So that, wf|»ut>Twference to the person of him in whom
this faith was reposed, or to the power there was in him,
we may readily perceive that the circumstances attending
the public confession of it must have rendered it very
powerful. An occasion, in fact a most urgent necessity,
*
was created for the instant exertion of the utmost reso
lution. Those^mfhj, aunties were put in immediate re
quisition, the possession of which is equivalent to a regen
eration of Ee whole wan.
with salvation.
A man was at once made brave and true; and this he
could ngMfe and be the same man that he was before,
with his low worldly habits and his sins cleaving to him
still. He was shaken all out of them, an'd translated into
a higher co *fSl, wfeer<gieEtfeME^S-e had the ascen
d
dency over the lower, the s#^iltfhver the flesh. Thus he
had at once, on the spot, searching experience of salvation
in the profoundest sense of the word.
Now, in thesf times, it is entirely different. There is
nothing of this kind connected with IS profession of faith
in Christ. It long ago ceased to be dangerous and un
popular. So far from its demanding any strength of
mind now, the weakest man may proclaim it aloud at the
�10
FAITH IN CHRIST
' Street corners, without exerting anymore force than is re
quired to open his lips. Instead of calling for courage, it
appeals to cowardice, to the most worldly motives. To
profess it, we are under the necessity, not of reforming,
but of conforming, a necessity very easily complied with.
Thousands there are who, by upholding certain institu
tions, virtually profess to be Christian believers, when
they have no intelligent personal faith whatever. And
so it has come about that there has been generated the
monstrous delusion that the most superficial, unthinking
formalism of thought and observance is a religion, a
Religion unto salvation!
There are no two things in naturegmore opposite, the
one to the other, than the faith of these our days and the
faith of the first Christians, the modern Profession and the
ancient Confession. The formers is a garment woven by
the world, having no more vital Hinection with the man
himself than his clothes have, nor .so much, for his clothes
keep him warm, while his faith Fworn, not for comfort,
*
but for fashion’s sake, that he may do as everybody else
is doing. But the ancient! Faith !—it was mingled with
the heart’s blood. Every nerve was thrilled by it. It
was a flaming fire, blazing at the very centre of life.
And it was thus vital, because it was no faith of man’s
making. It was kindled by Nature, by God himself.
Faith came to men in those days, attended, not by the
acclamations of their fellow-men, but by their curses, loud
and deep. It came, through fire and blood, girt with
lightnings and thunders, breaking in upon them, not by
their will, but in the first instance, without their will,
�* FAITH IN CHRIST
11
and against their will. They did not choose it. It chose
them, and made them all its own through struggles am
agonies almost breaking their hearts.
Consequently, as they could no more shake their faith
off than they could ‘unesseaace’ themselves, it was imposJ
sible for them to hold it ligh||ys, as a superficial appendag J
worn JnlvJ^rlsnow. Why, it was nothing less than their
very liffl What else had they on earth or in heaven to
sustain them ami^w ho^ror^bhal surrounded them |
What deeper interei^gadHIBy thanjffknow what it was
that they were putting their faith in at the cost of all that
they h elewdear
They could not impose upon
themselves, as we do now-a-days, with mere forms and
phrases. They could not feed upon articulate wind.
With the fierce flaml^ of persecution darting right at
them, they had to plunge in to the very heart of their
faith and wring all the life out of it they could. Once
committed|^thei^iSSBW' aQ face to face with a ter
rible opposition!thSthalO ma!fefy>od to themselves the
fearful position which they had taken. They had to for
tify themseivclj the uttermost. As they could look for
no reinforcement to eom^^ their aid from without, as
the world around them was all iigrms against them, they
were forced back, driven in, into the very citadel, where
sat enthroned the Obj e^| d^heir faith, there to obtain the
strength which wja||needed^ make their resistance effec
tual and to secure the victory. Accordingly they knew
the person in whom they believed.
And here, friends, we come to the last and main source
whence the early Christian Faith derived its power. But
�IS
FAITH IN CHRIST
let me repeat briefly what I have said. It is worth while.
Our subject is of great moment.
The first reason that I have given why Faith in Christ
was so strong at the outset is, that it really was faith, a
genuine conviction of the mind. Such it was of necessity.
There was no earthly inducement to move any sane man
to believe in Jesus, unless his understanding, his consci
ence, his whole soul compelled I aim to believe in him.
There was nothing to lead him to imagine that he believed
when he did not believe. Gfeete was not a loophole for
any self-deception. There was e wry thing to frighten
people away from the thought of Christ, to deter them
jfijpm so much as glancing i# that direction, save with
speechless dread. The faith ithfn of those days was a
real conviction. And a true, conviction is never without
Bower. Indeed, we see e<ery^here that personal faith is
the power of the world.
I In the next place, that earljy faith, being of the true
■quality, could not be hidden, kept to itself, although,
doubtless, they who had it were prompted by the fear of
the alienation of friends and the violence of foes to keep
it as long as they could to themselves. You may rely
Ripon it, they were in no hurry to publish what was sure
to bring swift dishonor and death. The Christian faith
could not, therefore, be confessed without the exertion of
the utmost moral force. Thus the salvation of the be
liever took place, incidentally, undesignedly on his part,
without his being aware of the great change begun in
him. Forced to depend upon himself, he had to dispense
with what is as the breath of our nostrils: human coun-
�FAITH IN CHRIST
13
tenance and sympathy. When that can be done, ther^Q
a new birth. Self-trust is the indispensable condition
of spiritual growth. In relying upon ourselves, we emerge
from our minority. We cease to be children. We standi
upon our feet. We go alone, leaning upon no crutches
of authority, listening to no hutward voice for our law,
but becoming every one a law to himself, or, which is the
same min^ffle sacred Jaw-. |Bfe&>ed to in the heart, ass^^
its supremacy over
power comes to us
from ®iS,in, from the immaterial, (ftifathomable, im
mortal soul within. Thence it w,a| thatWFaith at the firsl
drew its extraordinary strength. There, within, the great
Idea of Christ met tth^aiwi believers and communicate<l
to them such power that one of them exclaimed: “ I can
do allTthings through Christ strengthening me.”
I haveBras indicated two things which made Faith in
Christ, a faith unt^' salvation. The third and the foun
tainhead of its p)w6- wwhida EMey who believed drank
deep, and from which they drew a life, exuberant and
immortal, was, the object of their faith, in one word,
Christ.
Now in order to see #na^SweMthere was in him to
move men so mightily, we must endeavor to conceit
what a wonder, what apurpassin^mirade that phenom-1
enon was Tthe appearancirli^flthe world of such a man as
Jesus of Nazareth, considered simply as a man. I have
no idea that he himself e’verdrearned of claiming to be
anything more.
His name now is representative only of creeds, of
churches, of doctrines, which so far from commanding
; ‘•.'Gr' jA-K
.v. £. 1 • X <.J ’’
�14
FAITH IN CHRIST
the respect of the understanding, fetter and gag the under
standing, and shock the heart and pervert the conscience;
Or, if the name of Christ still represents a person, it is
a person of the Godhead, a vague fiction of the theological
imagination;
Or, if a human person, still only a person of so shadowy
an existence that he is hardly to be descried through the
legends and fables, of which the accounts that we have of
him are supposed to be made up.
It requires no slight effort, therefore, to put out of mind
these present modes of thought and to consider what a
new, strange, wonderful thing the Story of Jesus,—told
so humanly as it is told in swstaifce when the record is
head aright,—must have been in that distant age, long
before our creeds and churches and doctrines of Trinities
and Double Natures, and our critical and sceptical notions
were dreamed of, and when men were everywhere wor
shipping military power, and when^too, with huge tem
ples of stone and thousands of idols, and altars smoking
with the blood of slaughtered animals, and long glittering
processions of priests and countless imposing ceremonies,
—when with such things all that is sacred was identified,
and men hardly knew that there was anything holier or
more venerable.
Just think, friends, what a new thing under the sun
was the story that was told, told in the all-subduing
accents of the sincerest conviction, in the voluptuous cities
of Greece, and in the old warlike Roman empire, of a
lyoung man, of stainless purity, in the bloom of life, only
thirty years of age, of humble origin, put to a most shame-
�FAITH IN CHRIST
15
ful and cruel death for his simple truth’s sake, who, while
living, had gone about doing good, knowing not in t.lW
morning where he should rest his head at night, speaking
such words of wisdom that people came to him in crowds
from far and near, and followed him till they were ready
to drop from hunger and fatigue. He told them stor™
(so went the fervid 'report)-, breathing fraternal love and
the deepest human tenderness. He gave his blessing to
the poor, the sorrowing, the-gentle^tEe merciful, the pure
in heart, the lovers of peace; and so fearless was he withal,
as free as a child, as simple as the light and the air, amidst
savage passions ragfegO^gst- him, going his perilotB
way straight to a foreseen, violent death just as he walked,
just as he breathed, doing and saying the greatest thin J
as the merest m^grlTof course, fef-ppssessed, self-forget-J
ting, with heart open^^^thje while as the day to the
neglected and the outcast, transferring his own claims,
whatever they - werok thef Bwest of his brother-men. JI
malice of foes, no treachery of friends, so it appeared,
could exhaust or embitter the sweetness of his spirit. He
took little
hi^arms^«figessed them. The
wretched flocked »to him ias to a wide open temple of
Mercy. The poor woman, sin-defiled, from whose ton J
the pioujshranj as from ir a, leper, he addressed in words
of brothers kindness. rWhath a^ftene was that! The
poor heart-broken creature bowing fown and kissing his
very feet over and over again, and, as her hot tears fell
upon them like rain, wiping them away with her hair!
Such are only some of the many things which were told
of him, and which gave the world assurance of this new
�16
FAITH IN CHRIST
and most original Man. Could we only read the narra
tive of his last few hours, as we should, if we read it now
[for the first time, Roman Triumphs, Royal Progresses,
Coronation pomps, the Te Deums and Misereres of cathefdrals would all vanish away before the mingled pathos
and majesty of those scenes.
What a story, I reiteratflwas that to be told to a world,
‘[shining all o’er with naked Swords!’ What a sensa
tion must it have made!
What attention, what interest
must it have arrested! What Sympathy ! What adoring
admiration!
Furthermore, and borers the fact of supreme interest,
me Story of the Life and Death of Jesus was a wonder,
the like of which had never before been witnessed on
Earth, why? For what -rcasorif Even because it was
[perfectly simple, thoroughly natural, essentially human.
Being thus natural and human, it went straight into every
open heart as its native homfft, and Jesus was welcomed
there as the nearest of kin, the most intimate relative of
mankind. In fact, that Story, although its apparently
preternatural incidents affecte'd the imagination greatly
and made the world ring again, still was the most deeply
touching in this: that it silently breathed a thoroughly
human spirit, a spirit which was in far closer kinship
to the deepest and best in human nature than any mere
bniracles or any affinity of blood could possibly claim.
On this account it was that men took it in as naturally as
their eyes received the light or their lungs the air.
And all the more deeply did it interest them because
there was scarcely anything then to interest the popular
�FAITH IN CHRIST
mind, that went beyond the eye and the passion of fear and
the love of the marvellous. It was these only that were ad
dressed and excited, nothing deeper. Consequently, when
there went ahroaMan® from lips touched by the fire of
personal faith in its truth, the Story of one, whose whole!
being throbbed with ® »irit^St struck to the very heart,
quickening into full activity its noblest sentiments, people
leaped to embrace him, the most formidable obstructions
notwithslandinglby a sympathy as instinctive as that
which makes the ®hild cling to its mWier’s bosom.
By the way, we^^^-|jQM'St»ied! to speak of Jesus as the
Founded of ferisip^fefc/ Butf as I conceive of him, he
had no Sought of ®O»ly
a religion. He
was and is the foundation of Christianity, but not the
founder. . It had no founder. It founded itself. And it
was for this ver^^eason,he had no scheme of his
own, because, in th^e_ freedom and simplicity of Nature,
there went forth from him an effluence which was one
with the deepest and best in the soul of man,—for this
reason it gagthat a religion sprang from him which has
lasted now »r cBituMeSand fcwillBlfi^ for centuries
come.
But to return. When once we fully apprehend this
fact th® H was a simple human life, as natural as it was
original, the fbaa^ where^il^^O aSo^ on the wings of
faith, we begin to un(figtandFvhv,it was that, notwith
standing the fearful circumstance attending the confes
sion of belief in it, it at once took captive such a host of
men and women. The increase of the first believers was
amazingly rapid. Immediately after the death of Christ
�18
FAITH IN CHRIST
they were numbered, according to the Book of Acts, by
thousands. Thirty years afterwards, in the capital of the
Roman Empire, and Rome was then a great way off from
Judea, there was, as Tacitus informs us, a mighty multi
tude of them, ‘multitude ingens' The Catacombs of
*
Rome are filled with the ashes of the early Christians, and
their number is well nigh incredible.
The fact was, as I have said, the would was occupied
with superficial formalities, altars, and statues, splendid
rituals, sacrificial offerings, and holidays; things that
engrossed attention, and so Sased the conscience with
petty scruples, that, as Plutarch states, on one occasion, a
religious procession to propitiate some god, owing to some
trifling deviation from the prescribed forms, started from
the temple thirty-six times. Hardly,.anything deeper was
appealed to than the love of sight-seeing, and the super
stitious passion for thei marvellous.
And yet, consider, friend^ -those ancient generations
of Jews and Greeks and.4 Romans,—they were human
beings like ourselves, far more like than different. They
had this same human heart bleating all the while in their
bosoms. They were brothers, sisters, sons, daughters,
fathers, mothers, and on daily occasions were perforce
following the kindly dictates of our common humanity.
In the midst of all that externality and child’s play,
there came, in a man, in a young man, the living, breath
ing power of sacred human affection, showing the true
life to be, not a gilded ritual, but one ceaseless office of
self-forgetting human love. Of course it came like the
rain, like the former and the latter rain to the thirsty
�FAITH IN CHRIST
19
earth. It went down, swift and straight, down to the
central core of our human nature, whence it came, melt
ing the hardness which had grown over it, setting its
deepest springs flowing, and causing it to flower out
noble and saintly deeds.
Thus it is apparentnthe one wbduing charm was not
any new truth or doctrine, addressed only to the specula
tive faculty. Far enough Was it from being any system
of theology. Neither was it any miracle, which, at the
utmost, could excite only surprise and wonder. It is no
image of Jesus as a wonder-worker; it is Jesus in the
weakest condition of human nature, as a little child in his
mother’^ arms, or as hagBg dead on the Cross, that has
for ages since takBplgpM^ajl commanded the homage
of Christendom. It is no bewildering Tri-une God, but a
mother, exalted above God, a human mother, to whom the
tenderest worship has been
and widely rendered.
The Madonna andgn^^Kfl^—to what myriads of suf
fering andTlying men have these most human of symbols
spoken of the InfingjBove fl This iff was, the purely
human and humane spirit of Jesus, which through those
who at the first believed in him, ran like quicksilveS
from heart to heart by the irresistible power of the inde
structible syiflpathies of human nature.
So was it at the first. How is it now ? Now that Faith
in Christ is no longer persecuted, no longer unpopular,—
now that all is so changed in this respect, has the object
of Faith lost its vitality ? Can we no longer be saved by
Christ as the men and women of old were saved by him ?
2
�20
FAITH IN CHRIST
Was the saving power of this Man of men exhausted in
those early days ?
It would argue but very feeble sensibility to the great
ness of Jesus, it would indeed be doing him great dishonor,
to forget that it is not possible in such a world as this of
ours that so bright a light should arise and shine without
gradually spreading itself far and wide, and, notwithstand
ing whatever clouds of ignorance and superstition may
arise, should be reflected from unnumbered points, and, in
the course of time, render the whole atmosphere of Life
luminous and impregnate that with its saving efficacy, thus
consecrating all Life to the ministry of human Salvation.
This it is that has taken place in the case of Christ.
His spirit was caught by thos^ in attendance upon him,
and through them by a great host of confessors and mar
tyrs,—a cloud of witnesses; and so there started into ac
tivity countless saving agencies, Christ-like lives and
deaths, inspiring memories, humane institutions, revolu
tions, reformations, emancipations of multitudinous races;
and through these, and through all the freedom and
civilization which have followed' upon his appearance in
the world, Jesus is still carrying on the work of Salva
tion, of the blessings whereof all are, consciously or un
consciously, more or less partakers, even those who deny
his influence, and question his very existence. The his
tory of Europe, for now nearly two thousand years, is the
history of Christ, still far from being finished. At this
hour, as a philosophical writer has remarked, Europe is
struggling onward to realize the Christian ideal.
Is it only, however, in this indirect way, by the spirit
�FAITH IN CHRIST
21
which these reflections of his personal influence propagate,
that he is still the Saviour of men ? Has the full, rich
spring of his personal power, which at the first so flooded
human hearts, run dry, so that he is no longer able to
comman^j faith in himself that shall be unto salvation ?
Ah! dear friends, could he only be seen as he was, in
his natiyg greatness, jhtW earts would .burn with something
of the fire o^sa^tguaMi which
kindled in theirs of
old. But he is
longer visible. His person has been
for longlages hidden in th ^Storting mists generated by
the imaginatio®, wHRJth^unprecedented novelty of such
a life most jywrMBQt^^d. The extravagant and ir
rational representations thal hf^gbeen made of him could |
not reach in to the cenwal springs of our nature. They
can only play u
surface, and noisily agitate that.
To the still de^^^S csgnotfj^getrate.
And now, whf^t^^^tagjysicaljsions that have so
long veiled the human person of Jesus are fading away,
the case is Tiardly
to the blinding mists
of SuperstWon ^a^^iUd^ed^i^h di mists as blinding of
Scepticism • and to nuOW^s p^Bflonly a myth. He is
not known.
I should not presume to mah^ this assertion, were not
the reason plain wny he is not known. The ignorance,
the superstition, the monstrous dogmas, for which his
name has been cWmed, gjaavfl driven even intelligent,
learned, and conscientious men to the extreme of regard
ing with distrust,, one might almost say with contempt,
those artless accounts of Jesus, which have come down to
us, and from which alone we obtain any knowledge of him
�B2
FAITH IN CHRIST
personally. Accordingly, while, on the one hand, these
accounts are studied to find authority for some established
creed, on the other, they are read only to feed the scepti
cism with which they are looked upon. Jesus must needs,
therefore, be unknown when we seek, not for him, but for
the confirmation of some system of faith, or of no faith.
Murmur not, complain not, that you cannot see him.
4 No man,’ he himself is recorded to have said, ‘no man
can come to me unless He who sent me draw him’
Where is the single, earnest eye, to which alone, bent full
and searchingly on the record, its meaning will open, and,
emerging from the dimness of centuries, Jesus will stand
in sunlight clearness befor.e us with arms outstretched to
save us ?
Of all the great personages of History, there is no one
of whom so individual and living an idea may be had as
of Jesus. Such is my conviction. And for this reason,
not only because the accounts of him, as I have found, are
impressed all over and all through .with inimitable marks
of truth, but because, brief and imperfect as they are, they
are, to a singular degree, made.ujTof just such particulars
as always afford the most satisfactory insight into the stuff
and quality of the persons of whom they are related.
Thus persuaded, I believe the time will come when it
will be understood what manner of man Jesus was. As
we learn to know him, and to appreciate his exalted char
acter ; as we thus draw near to him, his spirit will breathe
upon us, and we shall receive the Holy Ghost. We shall
be learning Veneration and Love. Thus will he quicken
into a. new life those best sentiments of our nature by which
�FAITH IN CHRIST
23
it will be delivered from whatever now hardens or depraves
it. In this way, Faith in Christ personally will again
put forth its saving power. ‘The idolatry of dogma!’
says Mr Lecky, ‘will pass away. Christianity, being
rescued from the gitarianism and intolerance that have
defaced it, will shine Mg own Iplgpdor, and, sublimate®
above all the sphere of controversy, will assume its right
ful position as an ideat and not a system, as a person cmd
not a creed.’*
There is, in these times, in one great respect, a special
need of such a Saviour. The grasp of human authorities
and hereditary faiths upon the minds of men is loosened I
they cannot hold the world forever. In the free and pro
gressive M^Mytejd^^o;uishes Christendom, Science
is advancing as never before. Theories of Life, of its
origin and development, are becoming popular, which put
to naught our E&^Hfiogms, anlBtoevolutionizing our
modes ofjFhSght.
there who
earnest men of Science are
me mni^me. and can find no
God. Startled
listen and hear
everything attempted to be accounted for by blind law
and brute Enatter, f we ^ni to be in a boundless desert,
where is no SaOed Presence, where consummate order
reigns, but~nd Infinite Love Ipreathe
.
*
In this state of things, what tongue can tell the worth
of such a Person as Jesus ? When the things told of him
are established as historically true,—when he ceases to be
* History of the Rise and Influence of the Spirit of Rationalism
Europe, p. 191. American edition, 1866.
in
�24
FAITH IN CHRIST
a myth, and becomes a Reality, and we accept him as a
Fact in Nature as truly as any fact that Science has dis
covered, or may discover, and in as perfect accord with
Nature, then, as plants spring up under the air and the
light, there will be created in us spontaneously an im
pregnable Trust, and an inextinguishable Hope, which,
to all purposes of guidance and consolation, will be equiva
lent to Faith in God. The Idea of Jesus, enshrined within
us, by the aspirations it will kindle for the Highest, will
be a witness in our inmost consciousness of the Invisible
and Everlasting. Beholding Jesus, we shall behold God
and Immortality. And, moreover, what a testimony shall
we have to the truth of our great Christian Ideas in the
fact, that it was in them that he, in whom the highest
condition of humanity lias Peen shown, lived, and moved,
and had his being! These1 rit was thaQreated him after
so Godlike a fashion.
The great and the good of every age and country have
ministered, and are forever ministering, by the inspiration
which they breathe, to IK salvation of mankind, as well
from the gloom of unbelief, as from the darkness of super
stition. But Jesus stands high, high above them all; not,
it may be granted, in the abstract wisdom of his teachings,
although it may be questioned whether, even in this re
spect alone, any other of the great leaders of the world
have approached him,—have uttered so much of the high
est truth as he; but in the overflowing fulness of his spir
itual being, in the fact that he impresses us with the con
viction that there was a great deal more in him than his
words or even his acts expressed, an unfathomed reserve
�FAITH IN CHRIST
25
of personal power. Who has ever moved the world
like him ? Who is there that, like him, has challenged
centuries to define his position,—to take his measure?
He so stirred the imagination alone, that for ages, poor
peasant as he was, he has heen held to be nothing less
than the Infinite God himself; and this, too, not in
the absence of information concerning him, inviting the
imagination to so extravagant a flight, but in the face
of explicit facts showing him to have been a man, a
tempted,4suffering, dying, all-conquering man. ‘Two
things,’ said the philosopher Kant, 1 fill me with awe I
the starry heavens and the sense of moral responsibility
in man.’ To these two I add a third, filling the soul
with faith and love and hope, as well as awe, the Per
son of
To the Spirit, in him made Flesh of our
flesh, be this fair Church, risen from its ruins, every stone
of it, and th4 living Church within, its pastor, my friend,]
brother,..son, and his flock, dedicated now and forever!
�DEDICATORY HYMN
BY ROBERT COLLYER
0 Lord our God, when storm and flame
Hurled homes and temples into dust,
We gathered here to bless thy name
And on our ruin wrote our trust.
Thy tender pity met ourapain,
Swift through the world the angel ran
And then thy Christ appeared again
Incarnate, in the heart of man.
Thy lightning lent its fuming wing j
To bear his tear-blent sympathy,
And fiery chariots rusIHfflto bring
The offerings of humaniw.
Thy tender pity met our pain,
Thy love has raised us from the dust.
We meet to bless thee, Lord, again,
And in our temple sing our trust.
�
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Victorian Blogging
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A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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Conway Hall Library & Archives
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2018
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Conway Hall Ethical Society
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Discourse: faith in Christ
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Collation: 25, [1] p. ; 24 cm.
Notes: From the library of Dr Moncure Conway. Text of discourse from Acts xvi, 31 - "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved". Final unnumbered page is a dedicatory hymn by Robert Collyer. Includes bibliographical reference.
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<a href="http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/"><img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /></a><span> </span><br /><span>This work (Discourse: faith in Christ), identified by </span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk"><span>Humanist Library and Archives</span></a><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span>
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Sermons
Conway Tracts
Faith
Sermons
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Text
DEDICATORY SERVICES
OF THE
, PARKER MEMORIAL 2
E ETING
HOUS
BY THE
TWENTY-EIGHTH CONGREGATIONAL SOCIETY,
OF BOSTON,
Sunday, Sept. 81, 187’3.
BOSTON:
COCHRANE & SAMPSON, PRINTERS,
—
9 BROMFIELD STREET.
1873.
��SERVICES.
I. DEDICATION HYMN.
BY SAMUEL JOHNSON.
(SungMuiChoir^
To Light, that shines in stars and souls ;
To Law, that round* the world with calm ;
To Love, whose equal triumph rolls
Through martyr’s prayer and angel’s psalm, —
We wed these walls with unseen bands,
In holier shrines not built with hands.
May purer sacrament be here
Than ever dwelt in rite or creed, —
Hallowed the hour with vow sincere
To serve the time’s all-pressing need,
And rear, its heaving sea&above,
Strongholds of Freedom, folds of Love.
Here be the wanderer homeward led ;
Here living streams in fullness "flow;
And every hungering soul be fed,
That yearns the Eternal Will to know;
Here conscience hurl her stern reply
To mammon’s lust and slavery’s lie.
Speak, Living God, thy full command
Through prayer of faith and word of power,
That we with girded loins may stand
To do thy work and wait thine hour,
And sow, ’mid patient toils and tears,
For harvests in serener years.
�4
II. REMARKS OF JOHN C. HAYNES,
CHAIRMAN OF THE STANDING COMMITTEE OF THE TWENTY-EIGHTH CON
GREGATIONAL SOCIETY, OF BOSTON.
As your representative here to-day in the dedicatory services
of this Memorial to Theodore Parker, the first minister and
founder of our Society, what I have to say will consist mainly
of a brief review of the history of the Society.
On January 22d, 1845, a meeting was held at Marlboro’ Chapel
by several friends of free thought, at which the following reso
lution was passed: —
'•'•Resolved, That the Rev. Theodore Parker shall have a chance to be
heard in Boston.”
At that time he was preaching at West Roxbury. The
Melodeon was hired for Sunday mornings, and Mr. Parker
preached his first sermon there February 16th, 1845, on “The
Importance of Religion.” In November of that year the Society
was regularly organized as a “ body for religious worship ” under
the laws of Massachusetts, the name “Twenty-eighth Congre
gational Society of Boston ” was adopted, and Mr Parker, on
January 4th, 1846, was regularly installed as its minister. The
Society remained at the Melodeon until the fall of 1852, when,
for the sake of a larger audience-room for the great number
who flocked to hear Mr. Parker, it removed to the Music Hall,
then recently erected. There Mr. Parker preached from Sun
day to Sunday until his illness on January 9th, 1859. His last
discourse was on the Sunday previous. He continued, however,
to be the minister of the Society untill his death, which oc
curred May 10th, i860. From the time of the illness of Mr.
Parker to bis death, the Society continued its meetings, in the
hope at least of his partial recovery. After his death, the
Society, seeing the continued need of an unfettered platform
for free thought, and for the maintenance and diffusion of just
ideas in regard to theology, morality and religion, and whatever
else concerns the public welfare, of course maintained its organ
ization and continued its meetings, engaging as preachers the
best expounders of religious thought and feeling within its
reach, laymen as well as clergymen, women as well as men..
�The meetings have been held, without any interruptions except
those of the usual summer vacations, up to the present time,
a period of more than thirteen years since Mr. Parker’s death.
We have had financial and other discouragements, but the
enthusiasm of the Society for the cause of “ absolute religion,”
— the feeling that a pulpit like ours was needed, in which earnest
men'and women could freely express their views upon religious,
social and political questions, — have kept us united and in
action.
Our first serious misfortune, after the death of Mr. Parker,
occurred in April, 1863, when, in consequence of the several
months needful for the putting up of the Great Organ, we were
obliged to vacate the Music Hall and go back to the Melodeon.
Our second principal misfortune took plpce in September,
1866, when, in consequence of the Melodeon being required for
business purposes, we were compelled to remove to the Parker
Fraternity Rooms, No 5 54/Washington Street.
In each case, the removal from a larger to a smaller hall re
duced our numbers.
In May, 1865, ’Rev. David A. Wasson was settled as the
minister of the Society, which position he held until his resigna
tion in July, 1866. Previous to Mr. Wasson’s settlement, Rev.
Samuel R. Calthrop, now of Syracuse, N.Y., occupied the pul
pit continuously for several months.
During 1867 and 1868, for more than a year, Rev. Samuel
Longfellow preached for the Society on successive Sundays.
Mr. Longfellow has continued to preach for us occasionally
ever since.
On December 13th, 1868, Rev. James Vila Blake was installed
by the Society as its minister, and remained our pastor nearly
three years, until his resignation in November, 1871.
Aside from these, we have had the occasional pulpit service of
many men and women, noble in character, and eminent in abil
ity. Among them are Ralph Waldo Emerson, William Lloyd
Garrison, Wendell Phillips, William R. Alger, John Weiss,
Samuel Johnson, O. B. Frothingham, John W. Chadwick,
Francis E. Abbot, Ednah D. Cheney, William J. Potter, Celia
Burleigh, William H. Spencer, and W. C. Gannett.
�6
The Parker Fraternity, which is an offshoot of the Twenty
eight Congregational Society, representing particularly its social
element, was organized in 1858, and has been a valuable adjunct
to the Society. Through its public lectures it has largely in
fluenced public opinion, particularly in the days of the anti
slavery reform and the momentous years of the rebellion. It
naturally recognized the rights of woman, and year after year
placed women among its lecturers.
The Twenty-eighth Congregational Society has always, from
the start, had its seats free. All who chose to come to its meet
ings have been welcome. The contributions for payment of
expenses have always been voluntary. The Society has never
had a creed, and has never used those observances with water,
bread and wine which the sects call “ sacraments.” Through
the twenty-eight years of its existence, the feeling against these
has been constant and universal, so that no question in regard
to them has ever arisen.
Now, for the first time, we have a building we can call our
own. We have erected it as a memorial to our first great
teacher and standard-bearer, Theodore Parker. We dedicate it
to the ideas he represented: namely, to truth, to humanity, to
the free expression of free thought, to duty, to mental, moral
and social progress, and to the diffusion of-religion without
superstition.
III.
SCRIPTURE READING.
[A part of the following selection from the Scriptures of different nations was read.]
Let us meditate on the adorable light of the Divine Creator; may He
quicken our minds.
What .1 may now utter, longing for Thee, do Thou accept it: make me
possessed of God !
Preserver, Refuge 1 leave us not in the power of the evil: be with us when
afar, be with us when near; so sustained, we shall not fear. We have no
other Friend but Thee, no other blessedness, no other Father. There is
none like Thee in heaven or earth, O Mighty One: give us understanding
as a father his sons. Thine we are ; we go on our way upheld by Thee.
Day after day we approach Thee with reverence : take us into Thy pro- l
tection as a father his sons. Thou art as water in the desert to him who I
longs for Thee.
�f
7
. •
Presence us by knowledge from sin, and lift us up, for our work and for
' oumife. Deliver us from evil!
Spirit alone is this All. Him know ye as the One Soul alone; dismiss
all other words.
The Eternal One is without form, without beginning, self-existent Spirit.
The Supreme Spirit, whose creation is the universe, always dwelling in
the heart of all beings, is revealed by the heart. They who know Him
become immortal. With the eye can no man see Him. They who know
him as dwelling within become immortal.
He is the Soul in all beings, the best in each, the inmost nature of
all; their beginning, middle, end: the all-watching Preserver, Father and
Mother of the universe; Supporter, Witness, Habitation, Refuge, Friend:
the knowledge of the wise, the silence of mystery, the splendor of light.
He, the One, moveth not, yet is swifter than thought. He is far, he is
near. He is within all, he is beyond all. He it is who giveth to his crea
tures according to their needs. He is the Eternal among things transitory,
the Life of all that lives, and being One fumlleth we desires of many. The
wise who see Him within themselves, theirs is everlasting peace.
Dearer than son, dearer than wealth, dearer than all* other beings, is He
who dwelleth deepest within.
. They who worship me, He saith, dwell in me and I in them. They who
worship me shall never die. By him who seeks me, I am easily found. To
such as seek me with constant love, I give the power to come to me. I will
deliver thee from all thy transgressions.
He who seeth all in God, and God in all, despiseth not any.
Hear the secret of the wise. Be not anxious ’ for Subsistence : it is pro
vided by the Maker. He who hath clothed the birds with their bright plu
mage will also feed thee. How should riches bring thee joy. He has all
good things whose soul is constant.
If one considers the whole universe as' existing in the Supreme Spirit,
how can he give his soul to sin ?
He leadeth men to righteousness that they may find unsullied peace.
. Who can be glorious without virtue ?
He who lives'pure in thought, free from malice, holy in life, feeling ten
derness toward all creatures, humble and sincere, has God ever in his heart.
The Eternal makes not his abode within the heart of that man who covets
another’s wealth, who injures any living thing, who speaks harshness or
untruth.
. The good have mercy on all as on themselves. He who is kind to those
who are kind to him does nothing great. To be good to the evil-doer is
what the wise call good. It is the duty of the good man, even in the mo
ment of his destruction, not only to forgive, but to seek to bless his de
stroyer.
By truth is the universe upheld.
Speak the truth : he drieth to the very roots who speaketh falsehood.
�8
Do righteousness : than righteousness there is nothing greater.
Honor thy father and thy mother. Live in peace with others. Speak ill
of none. Deceive not even thy enemy. Forgiveness is sweeter than
revenge. Speak kindly to the poor.
Whatever thou.dost, do as offering to the Supreme.
Lead me forth, O God, from unrighteousness into righteousness; from
darkness into light; from death into immortality 1
There is an invisible, eternal existence beyond this visible, which does
not perish when all things perish, even when all that exists in form returns
unto God from whom it came.
—Hindu {Brahminic) Scriptures*
O Thou in whom all creatures trust, perfect amidst the revolutions of
worlds, compassionate toward all, and their eternal salvation, bend down
into this our sphere, with all thy society of perfected ones. Thou Law of
all creatures, brighter than the sun, in faith we humble ourselves before
Thee. Thou, who dwellest in the world of rest, before whom all is but tran
sient, descend by thine almighty power and bless us !
Forsake ail evil, bring forth goo4, rule thy own thought: such is the path
to end all .pain.
My law is a law of mercy for all.
As a mother, so long as she lives, watches over her child, so among all
beings let boundless good-will prevail.
Overcome the evil with good, the avaricious with generosity, the false with
truth.
Earnestness is the way of immortality.
Be true and thou ahalt be free*. Ta be true belongs to thee, thy success,
to the Creator.
Not by meditation can the truth be reached, though I keep up continual
devotion. The. wall of error, is. broken by walking in the commandments of
God.
—Buddhist Scriptures.
In the name of God, the Giver, the Forgiver, the Rich in Love 1 Praise
be to the God, whose name is He who always was, always is, always shall be.
He is the Ruler, the Mighty, the Wise : Creator, Sustainer, Refuge, De
fender.
May Thy kingdom, come, O'Lord, wherein Thou makest good to the right
eous poor.
He through whose deed the world increaseth in purity shall come into Thy
kingdom.
This I ask of Thee, tell me the right, O Lord, teach me : Thou Ruler over
all, the Heavenly, the Friend for both worlds!
I pray Thee, the Best, for the best.
1 Teach Thou me out of Thyself.
The Lord has the decision: may it happen to us as He wills.
�9
“Which is the one prayer,” asked Zarathrusta, “that in greatness, good
ness and beauty is worth all that is between heaven and earth ? ” And the
Lord answered him, That one wherein one renounces all evil thoughts, evil
words, and evil works.
Praise to the Lord, who rewards those who perform good deeds accord
ing to His wijl, who purifies the obedient at last, and redeems even the
wicked out of hell.
—- Parsee Scriptures.
Hear, O Israel, the Lord thy God is one.
What doth the Lord thy God require of thee, but to reverence the Lord
thy God, to walk in all his ways: to love him and to serve him with all thy
heart and with all thy soul 1
For the Lord your God is a great God, a mighty and a terrible, which regardeth not persons, neither taketh gifts. He executeth justice for the
fatherless and the widow and loveth the stranger.* Love ye therefore the
stranger. Ye are the children of the Lord your God.
Ye shall not steal, neither deal falsely, neither lie one to another. Neither
shall thou profane the name of thy God. Thou shalt no,t defraud thy neigh
bor, but in righteousness shalt thou judge him,
Thou shalt not hate thy brother in thy heart.
But thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.
If thine enemy hunger feed him, iMie thirst give him drink. So shalt
thou heap coals of fire upon his head.
Bring no more vain oblations. Wash you, make you clean; cease to do
evil, learn to do good ; seek justice, relieve the oppressed.
Though your sins be as scarlet they shall be white as snow, though they
be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.
Justice will I lay to the line and righteousness to the plummet.
When Thy justice is in the earth, the inhabitants of the world will learn
righteousness.
The Lord will teach us his ways and we will walk in his paths. And he
shall judge the nations. And they shall beat their swords into plough
shares, and their spears into pruning-hooks : nation shall not lift up sword
against nation, neither shall they learn war any more.
For behold, I create a new heavens and a new earth. The wilderness and
the solitary place shall be glad, and the desert shall blossom as the rose.
The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down
in green pastures, he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my
life, He leadeth me in the right paths. Yea, though I walkthrough the val
ley of the deadly shadow, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me: Thy
rod and thy staff they comfort me. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow
me all the days of my life.
—Jewish ^Canonical) Scriptures.
2
�IO
Wisdom is glorious, and never fadeth away. And love is the keeping of
her laws : and the giving heed unto her laws is the assurance of incorruptionj
And incorruption maketh us near unto God.
For wisdom, which is the worker of all things, taught me. In her is an
understanding spirit: holy, one only, yet manifold ; subtle, living, undefiled,
loving the thing that is good, ready to do good; kind to man, steadfast,
sure, having all power ; overseeing all things, and going through all mind ;
pure and most subtle spirit. For wisdom is more moving than any motion,
She passeth and goeth through all things by reason of her pureness. For
she is the breath of the power of God, and a pure influence flowing from the
glory of the Almighty. She is the brightness of the everlasting light, the. un
spotted mirror of the power of God and the image of his goodness. And be
ing one, she can do all things: and remaining in herself, she maketh all
things new; and in all ages entering into holy souls, she maketh them friends
of God and prophets.
Thou lovest all things that are ; thou savest all: for they are Thine, O
Lord, thou lover of souls. For Thine incorruptible spirit is in all things.
To know Thee is perfect righteousness ; yea, to know Thy power is the
root of immortality.
For righteousness is immortal.
— Jewish (Apocryphal} Scriptures.
Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed
are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for
they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are they who do hunger and thirst af
ter righteousness, for they shall be filled. Blessed are the merciful, for they
shall obtain mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God.
Blessed are they who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is
the kingdom of heaven.
Love your enemies ; bless them who curse you; pray for them who despitefully use you and persecute you, that ye may be the children of your
Father who is in heaven. Be ye therefore perfect as your Father in heaven
is perfect.
God is Spirit, and they who worship him must worship him in spirit.
The Father who dwelleth in me doeth the works. My Father worketh
hitherto and I work.
God is Love ; and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and God in
him.
If we love one another, God dwelleth in us. And he that keepeth his
commandments dwelleth in Him, and He in him.
Behold what manner of love the Father has bestowed upon us that we
should be called the sons of God.
And every man that hath this hope in him purifieth himself as He is pure.
As many as are led by the spirit of God, they are the sons of God.
�11
Unto us there is but one God, the Father.
One God, and Father of all, who is above all, and through all, and in you
all.
He hath made us ministers of the new covenant, not of the letter, but of
the spirit: for the letter killeth, but the spirit giveth life.
Now the Lord is that spirit: and where the spirit of the Lord is there is
liberty.
For, brethren, ye have been called unto liberty. Only use not your liberty
as an occasion for the flesh, but that by love ye may serve one another.
And now abide faith, hope, love : but the greatest of these is love.
Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are
honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever
things are lovely: if there be any virtue *and any praise, think on these
things. The things which ye have learned and received and heard, do :
and the God of peace shall be with you.
— Christian Scriptures.
IV.
PRAYER.
BY SAMUEL LONGFELLOW.
V.
DEDICATION HYMN.
WRITTEN FOR THE OCCASION BY W. C. GANNETT.
(Sung by Choir and Congregation?)
O Heart-of all the shining day,
The green earth’s still Delight,
Thou Freshness in the morning wind,
Thou Silence of the night;
Thou Beauty of our temple-walls,
Thou Strength within the stone, —
What is it we can offer thee
Save what is first thine own ?
Old memories throng: we think of one —
Awhile with us he trod —
Whose gospel words yet bloom and burn;
We called him, — Gift of God.
Thy gift again; we bring thine own,
This memory, this hope;
This faith that still one Temple holds
Him, us, within its cope.
-•
�12
Not that we see, but sureness comes
When such as he have passed ;
The freshness thrills, the silence fills,
Life lives then in the vast;
They pour their goodness into it,
It reaches to the star;
The Gift of God becomes himself,
More real, more near, so far !
VI. DISCOURSE.
BY SAMUEL LONGFELLOW.
I greet you upon your gathering in this new and fair home.
It is but a change of place, — not of mind or purpose. You lay
no new foundations of the .spirit. What foundation can any man
lay deeper, broader, more eternal than those you have always
had, — faith in man and faith in God, whom man reveals ? You
build no new walls of spiritual shelter: what other can you ever
need than you have always had, — the sense of the encompass
ing, protecting, and perfect laws, the encircling God ? What
better roof could overarch your souls than the reverential, trust
ful sense of the Heavenly Power and Love; the Truth, Justice,
and Beauty that are above us all; the Perfect which lifts us to
heaven, and opens heaven to us and in us, even as in Rome’s
Pantheon — temple of all the Gods, or of the All-God — the
arching dome leaves in its centre an open circle, through
which the infinite depths of sky are seen that tempt the spirit
to soar and soar, without a bound, farther than any bird hath
ever lifted wing or floating air-ship of man’s building can ever
rise! What spires and pinnacles could you raise that would
point upward better than that ideal within us, that haunting
sense of Perfection which forever calls us to a better manhood,
and toward which in all our best moments we long and aspire ?
What breadth of enlarged space could you open, with hospita
ble welcome of free place for all who would come, beyond that
entire freedom of thinking, of speaking, of hearing, which have
been yours, and your offering to others, for so many years ?
Eyer since, indeed, you gathered together, resolved that “ Theo-
�13
dore Parker should have a chance to be heard in Boston,” and
forrwsd the Twenty-eighth Congregational Society. Founded
in the ecclesiastical independence of that name, you, in coming
here, have not to break away from any ecclesiastical organization. Nor do you need now or ever to ask leave of bishop, or
approbation of consistory or council, — or fear the censure of
either, — for anything that you may do here, for any one whom
Bou may invite here, for anything that may be said here, for any
rite or form or ceremonial that you here may establish or may
omit. Springing from such root of sympathy with fair play and
freedom of speech, — and especially of thought and speech that
were under some ban. of heresy, — you have not in coming here
had to break away from any traditions of orthodoxy or spiritual
constraint. The traditions you bring here, are all the other way.
It is to no experiment of liberty that you \bpen this place of
meeting; to no untried ideas and principles, but to well-tested
ones, which you see no ground to give up or to abate. For
ideas and principles you have, — though you are bound by no
Breed. Bound by no creed, I. say, — refusing to proclaim any.
Not, however, without individual beliefs, and doubtless with
Substantial agreement amid your varieties of opinion ; but not
imposing your beliefs upon each other, as conditions of fellow
ship, still less upon any as condition® of salvation. You do not
impose them upon yourselves as fiscal; but hope that they will
grow out into something larger, fuller, deeper. You may be
afloat; but you are not adrift. You may not know what new
worlds of Truth lie before you ; but you know where you are,
and in what direction you are going. Beneath you is the deep
of God; over you, his eternal stars; within you, the magnet
which, with all its variations, is yet a trustworthy guide. Your
hand is on the helm. The sacred forces and laws of nature
encompass you. While you obey them you will not be lost.
“If your bark sink, ’tis to another sea.” You cannot go beyond
God.
This great principle of Freedom of Inquiry, Liberty of
^Thought, you bring with you. And may I not say for you
that you re-affirm it here ? In using it, it has not failed you or
betrayed you or harmed you. You have not found it fatal or
�14
'
dangerous. It has not led you into indifference, or into license
or moral delinquency. It may have led you to deny some old
beliefs, but it has not left you in denial or unbelief. Its free
atmosphere has been a tonic to your faith. It has brought you
to convictions, —the more trustworthy and precious because
freely reached by your own thought,, and tested by your own
experience, and fitted to your own state of mind. No longer a
report, but something you have seen for yourselves. The story
is told of a well-known hater of shams, that, a new minister
coming into his neighborhood, he sought an opportunity of talk
with him : he wanted to learn, he said, whether this man knew]
himself, anything of God, or only believed that eighteen hunj
dred years ago there lived one who knew something of him. Is
not our faith that in which we have settled confidence, — what
we trust our wills to in action ? It is that to which we gravi
tate, and in which we rest when all disturbing influences are
withdrawn. It is that to which we find ourselves recurring
from all aberrations of questioning and doubt, as to a practical
certainty. We may not be able to answer all arguments against
it, but nevertheless it commends itself to us as true. There is
to us more reason for holding to it than there are reasons for
rejecting it. So, while belief may be called an act of the
understanding, faith is rather a consent of the whole natureJ
It is, therefore, more instinctive than argumentative, though
reasoning forms an element in it. And it is the mighty power
which it is, removing mountains, and the secret of victory,
because it is this consensus of thought, feeling, and will, —• a
deposit of their long experiences, an act of the whole man. It
is structural and organic. But it need not be blind or irrational.
If we must differentiate it from knowledge, I would say that,
while we may define knowledge to be assurance upon outward
grounds, faith is assurance upon real but interior grounds. I
repeat this because many people seem to think that faith is
assurance without any ground. Now that our faith may be
really such as I have described, it must be a personal convic
tion, from our own thought and experience. And that it may
be this, we must have liberty of thinking without external con
straint.
�You do not find that this liberty of yours isolates you. Others,
who count it dangerous, or who dislike the use you make of it,
may cut you off from their fellowship. But the liberty which
frees you from artificial restraints leaves you open to the natural
attractions, and over and through all walls and lines you find a
large fellowship of sympathy in thought and feeling. The elec
tric instincts of spiritual brotherhood overleap all barriers of
-,creed and organization, even of excommunication. Above all
are you bound by such invisible, deep ties with all the noble
company of the heretics and pioneers of thought: and a noble
company it is. For the line of so-called heresy is nearly as
ancient, and quite as honorable, i J that of orthodoxy. Think
of the names that belong to it!
Let me say further thatfthis liberty of yours — your birth
right and sacred charge — is not lawlessn<Ss. You have never
felt it to be so. In a universe of law no true liberty can be
that. It is not that which has made the soul of man thrill as
when a trumpet sounds ; not that to which the noblest men and
women have sacrificed popularity, fortuneBand life. How fool
ishly Mr. Ruskin talks about liberty, misusing his eloquent pen ;
saying that we need none of it; and taking for its symbol the
capricious vagaries of a house-fly ! Is it a Bouse-fl^baprice that
has made the hearts of true menOleap high and willingly bleed
into stillness ; which has been dearer than friend or lover, than
ease or life ? Your liberty, I say, is not lawlessness, — it is not
whim and caprice. It is simply thelthrowing off all bondage of
tradition and conformity and prescription and ecclesiasticism,—
every external compulsion and imposition in behalf of the free,
natural action of the mind and heart. It rejects outward rule
in behalf of inward law. It refuses obedience to outward dicta
tion in behalf of its allegiance to the Truth which is within.
Thus it rejects bonds, but accepts bounds ; for all law is force
acting within bounds, — that is, under fixed and orderly condi
tions. Your liberty is order, not disorder.
Your liberty, again, is not rude or defiant. You do not flout
authority: you give due weight to the natural authority of supe
rior knowledge, wisdom, conscientiousness, holiness. But you
acknowledge no human authority which claims to be infallible, or
�i6
to impose itself upon you as absolute; none which would deny to
you the right — or seek to release you from the duty — of thinking
for yourself what is true to you, of judging for yourself what is
right for you. The opinion of the wisest you will not accept,
in any matter that interests you, unless it commends itself to
your thought, to your conscience, is justified by your experi
ence. You will not take your religious opinions ready made
from pope or synod or apostle. God has given you power—•
and therefore laid upon you the duty — of forming your own.
In that work you will gladly accept all help, willingly listen to
the words of the wise and good ; but their real authority is in
their power to convince your mind ; and the final appeal is to
your own soul. Is inspiration claimed for any, its proof must
be in its power to inspire you. Till it does it is no word of God
to you.
Yet once more, this liberty — won by pain of those gone
before, and by your own fidelity—-is yours not for its own sake
chiefly, not as an end. It is yours as opportunity. It will be a
barren liberty if it be not used. What good will the right of
free inquiry do to a man who never inquires ? Of what advan
tage freedom of thought to one who never thinks ? Of what
value the right of private judgment to. one who never exercises
it ? Freedom, I say, is but opportunity. It is an atmosphere in
which the 'mind should expand unhindered in its inbreathing of
Truth; in which all virtues should grow in strength, all sweet
and loving and devout feelings flower into beauty and fra
grance ; in which the character, unconstrained by artificial
bondages, should grow into the full statue of manhood, the full
possession and free play of faculty. It is in vain that you have
put away infallible church and infallible Bible and official media
tor, and priesthood and ritual, from between you and God, if
you never avail yourself of that immediate access ; if your soul
never springs into the arms of the Eternal Love, nor rests itself
trustfully on the Eternal Strength, nor listens reverently to the
whispers of the Eternal Word, nor enters into the peace of
communion with the Immutable.
Our freedom is founded in faith, not in denial. It springs from
faith in man. The popular theology is founded upon the idea
�i7
of human incapacity : ours upon faith in human capacity. We
believe, not in the Fall of Man, but in the Rise of Man. We
believe, not in a chasm between man and God to be bridged
over only by the atoning death of a God, but in a chasm
between man’s attainment and his possibility, between his
lower and his higher nature, to be bridged over by growth,
government, and culture. We believe that there is more good
in man generally than evil. And the evil we believe to be, not
a native disability, but an imperfection or a misuse, an excess
or perversion, of faculties and instincts whose natural or right
use is good. We believe sin is not an infinite evil, but a finite
one, — incidental, not structural. Man is not helpless in its
toils ; but every man has the fiements of good in him which
may overcome it, and all 'fidefled helps. It is a disease, — some
times a dreadful one, — but notfebsolutely fatal, since there is a
healing power in his nature, and in the universe around and
above him; and the excess or ‘mlsmrection may be overcome by
the inward effort and outward influences which shall strengthen
into supremacy the higher faculties which rightfully control and
direct the lower. We believe iff! the existence of these higher
faculties as original in man’s constitution, — reason, conscience,
ideality, unselfish love. These are as much a part of his nature
as the senses and the animal mind. When rightly used they
are as valid, — not infallible, but trustworthy. They will not
necessarily lead, astray, as the popular theology teaches, but
probably lead aright. That theology, not having faith in human
nature, cannot believe that freedom of thinking is safe for men.
Protestantism proclaims indeed the “ right of private judgment,”
but it is merely the right to read the Jewish and Christian
Bible, and to accept unquestioning its declarations, bowing nat
ural reason, heart, and conscience to its texts, believed to be the
miraculously inspired and infallible Word of God, the “ perfect
rule of faith and practice.” The Roman Catholic Church, far
more logical, seeing that private judgment gets such a variety
of meaning out of this “ perfect rule,” declares that an infallible
Bible, to be such a rule, needs an infallible interpreter,—namely,
the church, or, latterly, the Pope speaking for the church. It,
therefore, logically denies freedom of individual thinking as
�18
dangerous. Father Newman, indeed, with amusing simplicity,
declares that nowhere is liberty of thought more encouraged
than in the Roman Church, since, he says, she allows a long
discussion of every tenet and dogma before it is definitely
defined and proclaimed. Yes: but after? We can only smile
at such a pretension. In London, a friend said to me, “ I do
not see but these Broad Churchmen have freedom to say every
thing that they want to say in their pulpits.” I answered, “ Per
haps so, but then they do not want to say all that you and I
should want to say.” But of what they wish to say or think
much must require an immense stretching of the articles to
which they have subscribed : I do not speak of conscience, for I
will not judge another’s. But what a trap to conscience, what
a temptation to at least mental dishonesty, must such subscrip
tion be! And the Liturgy, from which no word may be omitted,
though many a priest must say officially what he does not indi
vidually believe, — can that be good for a man ? I know what
may be said on the other side, but to us it will seem that all
advantages are dearly purchased at such cost. The Unitarians,
the Protestants of Protestants, in their revolt from Calvinism,
proclaimed the right of free inquiry. And, let it be remembered
to their credit, they have refused to announce an authoritative
creed. But they have not had full faith in their own principles
and ideas. They have hesitated and been timid in their appli
cation. They have been suspicious and unfriendly toward those
who went farther than they in the use of their freedom of think
ing. They have written up, “No Thoroughfare” and “Danger
ous Passing” on their own road. They have now organized
round the dogma of the Lordship and Leadership of Jesus ; and
invite to their fellowship, not all who would be “ followers of
God, as dear children,” but only those who “ wish to be follow
ers of Christ.”
I do not forget that in all churches, Romanist and Protestant,
there is a spirit of liberty, a leaven of free thought, which is
creating a movement in them all,—■ an inner fire which is break
ing the crust of tradition and creed and ecclesiasticism. It
shows itself in the Old Catholic movement in Romanism ; the
Broad Church in Anglicanism ; the Liberal wing in Orthodoxy ;
the Radicalism in “ Liberal Christianity.”
�19
But the freedom which in these is inconsistent, imperfect, or
rmwelcome, with you is organic and thorough. Our faith in it,
I said, springs out of our faith in man and God, to which indeed
our freedom has led us. We think that man can be trusted to
search for the truth without constraint or hindrance, because
we think that his mind was made for truth, as his eye for light;
and that to his mind, fairly used, the truth will reveal itself as
the light does to his eye. And we believe that in his sincere
search he is never unassisted by the Spirit of Truth. We do
not say that he will make no mistakes, or that he will know all
truth all at once. But if a man be earnest and sincere, his mis
takes will be his teachers : his errors wilHbi but his imperfect
apprehension of some truth. We believe that all truth that has
ever come to man, including religious truth, has come through
the use of his native faculties'^ that this is the condition of all
revelation, and ample to account for all revelations. We, therefore, utterly discard all distinction between natural and revealed
religion. We should as soon speak of natural and revealed
astronomy, or establish separate professorships for teaching
them. Newton revealed to men the facnfof the universe which
his natural faculties discovered, and which thequniverse revealed
to him using his faculties. Some of these facts were Unknown
before to the wisest men ; some were only dimly guessed. Did
that prove his knowledge superhuman ? Would it be a sensi
ble question to ask, Why, if human reason were Capable of dis
covering them, were they not 'known before ? Yet such ques
tions are asked in religion, as if unanswerable I We .believe
that the human faculties are adequate for their end. Among
them we recognize spiritual faculties, framed for the perception
of spiritual truths, — a religious capacity adequate to its end.
We find religion — a sense of deity — as universal and as natu
ral to man as society, government, language, science. You
know how the latest and completest investigations into the
ancient religions of the world confirm this belief. They show
that the great religious ideas and sentiments — of God, of Vir
tue, of Love, of Immortality — have been taught with remarka
ble unanimity in all these religions. These are mingled in all
with much that is mythological, unscientific, local, personal,
�20
temporary. But they have all contained that which elevated,
consoled, and redeemed the souls of men. Under all of them,
men have lived the truth they professed, and have suffered and
died in its behalf. Most of them have had their prophet, be
lieved to have been the chosen friend of God, sent to communi
cate His word to the world. He has been worshiped by his
followers, glorified with miracle, deified. In view of these facts,
it is impossible to regard any one of them as the only, the uni
versal, or the perfect religion. Christianity, therefore, cannot
any longer be regarded as other than one of the religions of the
world, sharing the qualities of them all. It has its bright cen
tral truths, eternal as the soul of man, elevating, comforting,
redeeming. It has its elements of mythology, its personal and
local traits, peculiar to itself. What is peculiar in it can never
become universal: what is universal in it cannot be claimed as
its peculiar property. The Christianity of the New Testament
centres in the idea that Jesus was the miraculously attested
Messiah, the King, long expected, of the Jews. “If ye believe
not that I am he ye shall perish in your sins.” “ Every spirit
that confesseth that Jesus, the Messiah, is come in the flesh, is
of God ; every spirit that confesseth not that Jesus is the Mes
siah come in the flesh, is not of God.” “ Whosoever shall con
fess that Jesus is the Son of God [that is, the Messiah], God
dwelleth in him.” “Whosoever believes that Jesus is the Mes
siah, is born of God.” This was the primitive Christian confes
sion,— the test of belief or unbelief, the test of discipleship,
the condition of salvation. Paul enlargecl the domain of the
Messiah’s kingdom to include all of the Gentiles who would
acknowledge him; declared that in his own life-time he should
see Jesus returning to take the Messianic throne, and looked to
see the time when “ every knee should bow, and every tongue
confess that Jesus was the Christ;” “whom God had raised
from the dead, and set at his own right hand, far above all prin
cipality and might and dominion and every name that is named.”
This was the primitive Christian confession. Seeing that it has
never come to pass, that it was a mistaken idea, some modern
Christians idealize the thought, and say that Jesus is morally
and. spiritually King among men. But that is not the New
/
�21
Testament idea, which is literal, not figurative. This Messianic
idea, in its most literal sense, colors the Christian scriptures
BRfrough and through. And with it, its correlative idea of an
immediately impending destruction and renovation of the wor Id,
vThich was to accompany the Messianic appearance. A great
many of the precepts of the New Testament have their ground
in this erroneous notion of the writers, and have no significance
or application apart from it. It is such things as these that
make it impossible for Christianity,- as it stands in the records,
to be the universal or absolute religion. Just as like things in
Brahminism, Buddhism, Judaism, prevent any one of these, as
it stands in its scriptures, from becoming the Religion of the
World. What is local, personal, peculiar, special in each, is of
its nature transient, — the temporary environment and wrappage
of the truth. What is universal in each, — the central spiritual
and moral ideas which re-appear in them all, — these cannot be
■called by the name of any one of them. These, it seems me,
are neither Judaism, Buddhism, nor Christianity,— they are
Religion.
Religion, — a name how often taken in vain, how often perKrerted ! but in its . true essence what a joy, what an emancipation, what a consolation, what an inspiration ! What a life it
has been in the world! Corrupted and betrayed, made the
cloak of iniquity, ambition, selfishness, uncharitableness, and
tyranny, it has never perished out of the human soul. A prod
uct of that soul, an original and ineradicable impulse, percep
tion, and sentiment, it has shared the fate of that soul in its
upward progress out of ignorance into knowledge, out of super
stition into rational faith, out of selfishness into humanity, out
of all imperfection on toward perfection. In every age, and in
every soul, it has been the saving salt. For by Religion, I need
not say, I do not mean any form or ceremonial whatever, any
organization or ecclesiasticism. I mean the Ideal in man, and
devotion to that Ideal. The sense of a Perfect above him, yet
akin to him, forever drawing him upward to union with itself.
The Moral Ideal, —or sense of a perfect Righteousness,— how
it has summoned men away from injustice and wrong-doing,
awakened them to a contest with evil within them, and led
�22
them on to victory of the conscience over passion and greed !
How it has nerved them to do battle with injustice in the
world, and kept them true to some cause of righting wrong,
patient and brave through indifference, opposition, suffering!
And it has always been a sense of a power and a law of right
eousness above themselves, which they did not create and dared
not disobey, and which, while it seemed to compel them, yet
exalted and freed them. The Intellectual Ideal, — the sense of
a Supreme Truth, a Reality in things, with the thirst to know it,
— how it has led men to “scorn delights and live laborious
days,” to outwatch the night, to traverse land and sea, in its
study and pursuit, to sacrifice for it fortune and society; this
al^o felt to be something above them, yet belonging to them ;
something worth living and dying for, and giving to its sharers
a sense of endless life! And the Ideal of Beauty, haunting,
quickening, exalting the imagination to feel, to see, to create, in
marble, on canvass, in tones, in words : itself its own great
reward. The Ideal of Use, leading to the creation and perfect
ing of the arts and instruments of human need and comfort and
luxury: every one of them at first only a. dream in the brain of
the inventor, a vision of a something better than existed haunt
ing his toilsome days and years of self-denial and poverty. The
Ideal of Patriotism or of Loyalty, the sense of social order, of a
rightful sovereignty, or of popular freedom, — how has it made
men into heroes and martyrs, giving up ease and facing death
with exulting hearts. The Ideal of Love or Benevolence, that
makes men devote themselves and consecrate their possessions
to the relieving of human suffering, and discovering and remov
ing its sources. The Ideal of Sanctity, of Holiness, the vision
and the consecration of the saint, the aspiration after goodness,
that by its inspiration gives power to overcome passion and con
trol desire and purify every thought of the mind and every feel
ing of the heart, and mold the spirit into the likeness of the
All-Holy.
All these ideals, differing so much in their manifestation and
direction, are alike in this, — that they all look to an unseen
Better, a Best, a Perfect; that this seems always above the
man who seeks it, yet at the same time within him, not of
�23
his own creation, but governing him by a law superior to his
own will, while attracting and invigorating it; that they all
demand a self-surrender and self-devotion, and sacrifice of
lower to higher, and give the power to make that sacrifice;
and that they are their own reward.
All these ideals — and if there be any others — I include in
the idea of Religion. Is my definition too broad ? I cannot
make it narrower. It will not seem too broad to you who are
accustomed to regard religion as covering all human life. What
ever in that life is an expression of^deal aspiration, is done in
unselfish devotion, and in obedience to the highest law we
know, is a religious act, is a worship and a prayer. It is a ser
vice of God ; for.it is a use of our faculties to their highest end,
which must be His will for us. It is a ^onitact «®fith things in
visible and eternal. For these ideals are of the mind, not of the
body : they are of the soulfland must go with it into all worlds.
They are thus an element, and a puoof, of immortality.
O friends, is there anything the world needs, is there any
thing every one of us needs, more than some high ideal, to be
kept bright and clear within
by sincere devotion ? Is there
anything we need more than a high standardKn character, in
aim, in spirit, in work ? We have it in our bestJwnoments. But
.How easily we let it get clouded in the press of cares. How
easily we yield to the temptation to lower it for immediate
Results I Is there anything we need more than the elevation
of spirit such an ideal gives, the power to rise above annoyance
and fret, above low and selfish thought, above unworthy deeds ?
How ashamed we stand before that, ideal when, because we have
not bee« obedient to its celestial vision, but have too easily let
it go, we are betrayed into the temp#?, the word, the act we had
Resolved should never betray us again ! What is needed in our
politics, in our business — do not daily events teach it to us
most impressively ? — but a higher ideal; a higher standard of
integrity; a high-minded sense of right, which would take no
Questionable dollar from the public purse ; a sensitive con
science, scrupulous of the rights of others given to its trust ?
[Then the haste to be rich would cease to be the root of evil
that it is, and embezzlements, defalcations, political jobs, and
�24
mercantile frauds no longer shock and grieve us with every
paper we take up. Oh, the anguish and self-reproach of the
man who has involved himself, little by little, in the toils and
excitements of temptation, and, accepting a lowering standard
of honesty, sinks, till he is startled to find himself fallen into
the pit!
What is more needed in all our work than a higher ideal of
excellence, a higher standard of truth and conscientiousness ?
How hard to get anything done thoroughly well, — precisely as
agreed upon, and at the time promised ! Most earnestly would
I insist that every right which the “ working-man ” can justly
claim should be secured to him ; his full share of the product
he helps create, and every opportunity for health, recreation,
and culture which he will use. But he should remember that
faithful performance of ditties on his part will be the best ground
for any claim of rights: he must be careful of the right of oth
ers to honest work and honest time in return for fair pay.
How great is our indebtedness to those great and true souls
who have kindled or kept alive within us a loftier ideal! What
an influence in that way has the image of Jesus been in the
Christian world! Many have not seen that what they wor
shiped or looked up to in him was often simply their own ideal
of human excellence, — really not so much derived from him as
projected upon him, with little regard to historic fact. But this
shows us, still, the power of a lofty ideal within us to lift up,
sustain, and redeem. Many, if they were willing to speak
frankly, would say that the human excellence of some noble,
pure-hearted, spiritually-winded friend, with whom they had
walked in the flesh, has been more to them than thenmage of
Jesus. And when we remember that these high ideals have
inspired millions who never heard his name, it is plain that he
cannot be regarded as their origin. There is one Supreme Ideal
of Goodness. “ Likeness to God ” was the aim of the Pythago
rean teaching. “ Be ye perfect, as your Father in heaven is per
fect.”
All these ideals of Truth, Righteousness, Beauty, Use, Love,
Holiness, of which I have spoken as constituting, in our devo
tion to them, true Religion, unite in the Idea of God. For He
�25
is the Perfect of them all, the Spirit or Essence of them all,—•
the Perfect Truth, the Perfect Righteousness, the Perfect Beau
ty, the Perfect Love, the Perfect Power, the Perfect Holiness.
That is what we mean by saying “ God,” — surely nothing less
than that. This sublime idea has always, in some shape, haunt
ed and possessed the mind of man. The moment the spiritual
faculties begin to germinate in a man or a race, at that moment
the thought of God springs up. From our far-off Aryan ances
tor, who, on those high plains of Central Asia, looked up to
the clear, transparent sky, and said thankfully and reverently,
“ Dyaus-pitar,” Heaven-father, — for he knew that the blessing
of sunshine and rain came thenc^to him, and must have felt a
mysterious sense of some being invisible in that visible, — down
to the child who to-day makes his prayer, “ Our Father, who art
in heaven,” all over the world the reverence of men’s hearts,
/and their sense of blessing and dependence, have uttered the
name of God, and joined with ^t the thought of Father. The
1 conceptions in which men’s thought and language have clothed
that idea have varied with knowledge and culture. But the
central idea of a Power and Beneficence superior to man, in
Nature and above Nature, has been ever present. Delusions
may have gathered about it: but is it a delusion ? Supersti
tions may have distorted it: but can you count it a supersti
tion ? I count it the greatest of realities. I accept the
well-nigh universal verdict of the soul of man. I accept the
experiences of my own soul. I accept the faith which, whether
it be original or an inheritance of accumulated thought, is now
an instinct and intuition within me. I accept the confirmation
of science to the divination of the soul, in its more and more
clear affirmation of a unity and perpetuity of Force in Nature,
and an omnipresence of Law. I accept the testimony of saints
who, through purity of heart, have seen God and felt him near,
— and more than near. Their highest statement is, “ God is
Spirit.” A distinguished preacher has said,— justifying his
declaration that Jesus Christ is his God, — that he believes
it impossible to form the conception of pure spirit. Of course
we cannot form any image or picture of it. But we ’can think
it, surely. For we know thought and feeling and will in our
4
�26
selves, and these have no shape, nor do we confound them with
the bodies in which they are manifested. Thought, feeling,
will, — these are our spirit, our essential life. God is the infi
nite Thought, Feeling, Will, — the infinite Spirit or essential
Life of the universe of matter and of soul. Our conception of
him must depend,’ I .said, upon our spiritual condition. But I
think with every advance in spiritual life and perception, we put
off more and more of physical and human limitation. Said one
to me, the other day, “ I think it will be no service* to men to
undermine their belief in a personal God.” Now, thought, feel
ing, and will are qualities of person, and not of thing, and there
fore we may speak of God as the infinite Person. But he
meant, as is usually meant, by personality, individuality. For
myself, I think it a great-gain to give up the conception of God
as an individual being, however majestic, sitting apart from the
universe, overseeing and governing it, and from time to time
intervening by special act. I count it a great gain to have
reached a conception of him as pure Spirit, the all-pervading
Life of the Universe, the present Power and present Love and
present Justice at every point of that universe, — perpetually
creating it by his present Energy of good. Present perpetually
in the affairs of men, invisibly, restraining evil, righting wrong,
leading on to the perfect society. Present really in the hearts
and minds and consciences and wills of men, not displacing
them, but re-enforcing them. “ If we love one another, God
dwelleth in us,” said the inspired writer of old, — surely inspired
when he said that. “If a man is at heart just,” said the inspired
modern, “ by so much he is God. The power of God and the
eternity of God do enter into that man with Justice.” How
could this be if God be a separate, individual being ? But con
ceive of him as Being, and the difficulty vanishes. It is no fig
ure of speech, but literally true, that He dwells in holy souls,
inspiring and working through him. “The Father who dwell
eth in me,” said Jesus. Yes, but in no special or miraculous
way: in the way of the universal law of spiritual action ; as he
dwells in all souls that aspire and obey. “Above all and
through all and in us all.”
Does this conception of God as Essential Life seem to any
�27
vague and unreal ? Oh, think again, how substantial are
thought, feeling, and will! The moving powers of the human
world setting all the material into action ! How many perplexi
ties of thought, which beset the common view of God as an in
dividual being, disappear under this conception of him as spirit!
How does it make possible the thought of his omniscience and
omnipresence and providence ! No longer the all-seeing eye,
watching us from afar, but the present spirit, knowing us from
within, involved in our thought and our thinking, — the law or
order by which we think and feel, the present power by which
we act. Spirit can thus encompass us, and flow through us,
without oppressing us, or hindering our freedom. Do the forces
of nature — of attraction, of gravitation, of chemical affinity —
oppress us ? We cannot get away from them, but do we not
move freely among them ? The air is around us and within us,
a mighty pressure, — do we feel the weight of it? In such
sweet, familiar, unconscious ways does God, the Spirit, encom
pass and dwell within our spirits. How can we flee from that
Spirit, or go where it will not uphold and keep us ? Our God
besets us behind and before. Our Father never leaves us alone.
Modern science, we are told, is rejecting all notion of volition
from the material world. The conception of God as Spirit has
already done that. For God’s will, in that conception, is no
separate jets of choice, but an all-filling, steadfast Energy, a Power living at every point. His will is no series of finite
volitions, but an infinite purpose in the constitution of things, —
the unchanging element in them which we call their law. God’s
will, therefore, is not in any sense 'arbitrary. A permanent
force, with its permanent laws, from constant conditions it pro
duces constant results. Wrought into the constitution of things
arid beings, it is there to be studied, known, and obeyed.
Friends of the Twenty-eighth Congregational Society: Com
ing at your call to speak to you on this occasion of the dedica
tion of your new house, I have not thought it unfitting to the
occasion, instead of trying to open to you some new topic,
rather to offer you this outline and review of principles and
ideas already somewhat familiar to you. We glance over what
�28
has been gained before beginning anew our quest. You build
here no House of God, but a house for men. A “ meeting
house” you call it,—.the good old New England name, — not a
church : for is not the church the men and women, not the
walls? You have most fittingly made it a memorial of your
first minister. And this in no slavish adulation, and in no slav
ish following of him. You are not bound to his thoughts. But
you can never forget or cease to be grateful to him, many of
you, for the emancipation of thought you owe to him ; for the
moral invigoration, for the quickening of devout feeling, always
to him so precious.
He was a thorough believer in the Liberty of which I have
spoken. He believed that it should have no bounds save such
as love of truth and good sense and feeling might set to it.
And he used the freedom he believed in. And when, in the use
of it, he was led to judge and reject some things around which
the reverence of the denomination to which he belonged clung,
they who had taught him the liberty which he used, with some
noble exceptions,— I am sorry to recall it,— to save their credit,
proved false to their principle. They lost a noble opportunity.
They had always insisted that the essential in Christianity was not
belief, but character and life : now they turned round, and asserted
that it was not a spirit and a life, but a belief in supernatural his
tory. He did not spare them, and hurled at them the arrows of
his wit and the smooth stones of his keen logic. He did battle for
the freedom which was denied. Men mistook his wit for malig
nity, and his moral indignation.for bitterness. But, though he
was capable of sarcasm, his heart was sweet and kind, and full
of genial sympathies, as those who knew him best best knew.
His services to Theology in this country were very great.
His work was partly destructive, clearing away errors and
superstitions, but mainly constructive. He built up a complete
system of theology, founded upon the native spiritual instincts
in man and the infinite perfection of God. Though a vigorous
practical understanding was the characteristic of his mind, he
accepted this ideal or transcendental theory of religion, and,
with his clear common sense and terse sentences, interpreted it
to the general mind. Though no mystic, he had much devout.
�2^
feeling, and loved to speak of Piety, and the soul’s normal de
light in God. You will never forget the deeply reverential tone
of his public prayers to the “Father and Mother of us all.” But
even more than in Piety he believed in and loved and enforced
Righteousness in every form ; and his great power was ethical.
.How clear and sure was his sense of right; .a conscience for the
nation : its guidance sought by how many, in public and private
duty ! Before its keen glance how many an idol fell! He liked
to be called a Teacher of Religion: and he made it cover all of
life. He applied its ideal to the nation, and, finding human slav
ery there, he threw all his energies into rousing the conscience
of the country to feel its falseness and ?ts iniquity, and to work
for its removal. In this cause he rendered you know what noble
and devoted service, gaining the sympathies of many who least
liked his theology. He gave the weight of his advocacy to every
cause of humane reform, pleading for the poor and the perishing
classes, for the rights of woman, for temperance and purity and
peace.
He has left you a powerful influence, and a heritage of prin
ciples and ideas, to whose charge you show yourselves faithful
in building this house, that the work he begun may be carried
on and fulfilled. The men and the women whom you call tospeak to you know that they will have full freedom of speech
and hospitable hearing to their most advanced thought. You
will expect them to speak to you,wot upon theological questions
alone, or on the experiences of devout feeling, or personal du-’
ties, but on all that deeply concerns the welfare of the commu
nity ; upon the vital questions of the da/, and its present needs ;
upon political and social topics; upon questions of moral reform
and humane effort, and rights of man and woman ; upon all the
practical applications of ideal thought. All these you will wish
discussed, in the utmost freedom, and from the highest point of
view.
But not for speech alone is this house to be used. I cannot
but hope that your enlarged space will be used as opportunity
for work .in various directions of help and good will. Why
should not this be a headquarters of action as well as thought ?
�30
And now, may I say for you, that you devote and dedicate
this house to Freedom and to Religion ; to Truth and to Vir
tue ; to Piety, to Righteousness, and to Humanity; to Knowl»
edge and to Culture ; to Duty, to Beauty, and to Joy ; to Faith
and Hope and Charity; to the memory of Saints, Reformers,
Heretics, and Martyrs ; to the Love and Service of God, in the
Love and Service of Man.
VII.
GOD IN HUMANITY.
BY JOHN G. WHITTIER.
{Sung by Choir and Congregation?)
O Beauty, old yet ever new,
Eternal Voice and Inward Word,
The Wisdom of the Greek and Jew,
Sphere-music which the Samian heard I
Truth which the sage and prophet saw,
Long sou®t without, but found within:
The Law of Love, beyond all law,
The Life o’erflooding death and sin !
O Love Divine, whose constant beam
Shines on the eyes that will not see,
And waits to bless us, while we dream
Thou leav’st us when we turn from thee !
All souls that struggle and aspire,
All hearts of prayer, by Thee are lit;
And, dim or clear, Thy tongues of fire
On dusky tribes and centuries sit.
Nor bounds, nor clime, nor creed Thou know’st,
Wide as our need Thy favors fall;
The white wings of the Holy Ghost
Stoop, unseen, o’er the heads of all.
�31
VIII. ADDRESS BY EDNAH D. CHENEY.
In looking over the congregation here assembled, and seeing some
of the old faces which greeted Mr. Parker on those first stormy Sun
days at the Melodeon, I have asked myself what it is which has kept
this society together through so many changes when friends advised
its dissolution, and enemies hoped for its failure. It seems to me it
was no doctrine of Mr. Parker’s, not even a sentiment; but, if I may
so call it, his method of trust in the truth. He never feared to utter
the whole truth, and never doubted that what was good food to his
soul was fit nourishment for others who hungered for it. This has
made the pulpit truly free, so that those who spoke here, and those who
listened, felt that they could speak and hear honest convictions. While
this society is true to this tradition, it will have a place to fill, and, I
trust, this new building is to give it a fresh lease of life, and greater
opportunity of usefulness.
This still seems to me the great need of the time, — loyalty to truth,
not attachment to a dogma. If we feel thftf any truth is dangerous to
our well-being as a society, it is time that Age disbanded, but as long as
we dare to trust the truth, we need not fear that any blast of a trumpet
can blow down our walls.
In a country town, where an independent society met in a hall, when
it was asked of what religion is such a man, it was answered, His is
the Hall Religion. I think there is some value in the phrase, and I
rejoice that this society has not builded a church to be open only on
Sunday, but a hall which on every day of the week may be consecrated
Blithe psalm of life, and dedicated to use or beauty. The echo of the
dancing feet of the children who gather at the festivals will not disturb our devotion, nor the remembrance of the good words of the lecturer mar our enjoyment of prayer or sermon. It is an emblem of the
Religion of Life, no longer divorced from every-day work and pleasure,
bw elevating and sanctifying it. It is said that the great Church of
St. Peter’s at Rome has never been ventilated since Michael Angelo
reared its lofty dome, Snd that the worshipers now breathe the foul and
lifeless air which has not been renewed for nearly four centuries. But
as I hope the physical ventilation of this hall will never be neglected,
but the pure air of heaven will be freely brought in, so we can never live
a true and vigorous spiritual life unless we keep our souls ever open to
the broad, free air and light of heaven, not confined by any creed or
dogma, but perpetually renewing itself by fresh inspiration.
�32
Such seems to me the great principle' of this society, which it is
bound to cherish and carry out, and to which in the worship of God
and the service of humanity we would dedicate this hall to-day.
IX.
ADDRESS BY JOHN WEISS.
Whenever a liberal thinker expresses his belief that the popular the
ologies are honeycombed by the climate of science and information,
and are falling apart beneath the surface, he is asked to observe that
there never was such a time for the laying of corner-stones for church
extension; never such an enthusiasm of temple-building; never before
so many seats filled by worshipers. It is undoubtedly a fact. The
competition between the sects is so great, and the national temper of
extravagance so confirmed, that church extension has become another
vice of the times; and people will run hopelessly in debt rather than
be without their sumptuous building, thus setting an example, to a
country which does not need it, of speculative immorality. For I can
see no difference between extending a railroad over illusory capital and
watering its stock, and watering a congregation with a meeting-house
too large and fine, watering it with a large per cent of empty pews,
which require in the pulpit a man with some of the virtues of an auc
tioneer.
But there is a real decay of the popular theology in spite of these
costly elegancies which seem to announce a revival of religion. Before
every dissolution a period of renaissance, or superficial revival, has
always set in, substituting sentiment for the old impetuous earnestness,
imitating faith by pretty form. We may safely predict extensive decay
when it has become such an important object to secure paying sitters
for the various sects. The old sincerity will be soon crushed beneath
their ornamental expenses.
Then let us have a new sincerity, to be nursed in humbler places,
and supported by honester means. Here let it be, for one place. Wel
come the plainness and freedom of these walls, sb solidly built, so sim
ply colored in their warm, brown tints. Here a real memorial to
Parker is yet to be erected by successive Sundays of free speech, and
week-days of fraternity. To-day you are only laying the corner-stone
of a structure of thought and feeling which will throw its door wide
open to the common, people, to every wayfaring fact and cause against
which so many churches shut their gates.
�33
It pleases my fancy to notice that you have put up this building next
to a grain elevator, for it constantly reminds me of Parker, of his frame,
even, of his manner and his mental style. Solidly laid, robustly built,
not excessively addicted to beauty; but framed for the sole purpose of
receiving aud distributing, with convenience and the least of waste, the
cereals of a thousand fields for which millions of hungers are waiting.
Such was the abundance and nutrition of his genius. He explored
many fields to collect his staples and the simple corn-flowers of his
fancy-: his keel furrowed many seas, but not to gather and bring home
luxuries, nor to hunt up a place where he might enjoy intellectual seclu
sion. .The delights of scholarship were subordinate to his humanity.
He was constantly tearing himself away from those books, the darlings
of his spirit, as if they imposed upon him, and were defrauding people
of his service. He let the exigency of the hour break without cere
mony into the sacred study, and he rose to meet the pauper and the
slave, to perform the great symbolic action of marrying two fugitives
with a Bible and a sword. The perishing classes, the neglected, the
unfortunate, always held a mortgage on his precious time. But life
never seemed so precious to him as when he was killing himself to help
emancipate America. What a homely sublimity there was in this giv
ing of bread to mouths that had munched the old political and sectarian
chaff and had swallowed indigestion 1
Now it is for you to honor him by imitating this action: not so
much to prolong a memory as to resuscitate, a life that was laid down
in the service of mankind; yes, to revivify that bust, poor, passionless
’ and rigid remembrancer of the nature you knew, that was so manifold,
so profuse, so virile with anger, love and friendship: to bid that white
ness mantle again with his florid cheek; to make those eyeballs beam
with a blessing or a threat, so that Theodore Parker shall be heard
again in Boston.
This shall be your service in this place, to reproduce his manliness;
if not with the same fertile and sturdy vitality, or with the same
warmth which lifted up so many beacons of indignation and warning,
which compelled the East to look at him, and the West to listen, and
the South to dread, still, at least, with the old sincerity, the old persis
tent purpose to be dedicated to the rights and wants of man.
5
�34
X.
ADDRESS BY FRANCIS E. ABBOT.
When, nearly thirty years ago, the founders of the Twenty-eighth
Congregational Society' rallied around the unpopular and ostracised
minister of West Roxbury, and, with a laconic brevity worthy of Sparta
in her best days, voted that “ Theodore Parker should have a chance to
be heard in Boston,” what was the real meaning of their act ? Did
they intend to rally about Parker as the disciples of old rallied about
Jesus, in order to proclaim a new personal gospel, to glorify a new per
sonal leader, and to sink their own individualities in that of a new “ Lord
and Master”? James Freeman Clark has said that, when the radicals
give up Jesus of Nazareth, it is only to attach themselves to some other
leader; that they only abandon Jesus in order to take up with Socrates,
or Emerson, or Parker. Was this the real purport of that now famous
and historic vote ?
If this had been your aim and spirit, we should not be here to-day.
When the eloquent voice was stilled, the stalwart form laid in its far
Florentine resting-place, and the man whose words had electrified two
hemispheres had passed away forever from human sight and hearing,
in vain would you have voted that “ Theodore Parker should have a
chance to be heard in Boston.” Small respect would Death have paid
to your resolutions. No ! If your vote had meant only that the pow
erful personality which had so impressed itself upon the times as to be
henceforth a part of American history should still utter itself from your
platform to a listening world, you would have disbanded; you would
have broken ranks, and scattered sadly and silently to your homes;
you would have discontinued your meetings, and surrendered your or
ganization. Parker had been heard; his message had been delivered.
Henceforth the book of revelation that all men read in his speech and
life was sealed forever, and no man could either add to or take away
from its fullness.
But you did not disband. Your meetings were continued. Your
platform was maintained. Other prophets were summoned to speak
in Music Hall, now chiefly known abroad for the work done there by
you and your great minister. They were summoned, not to echo Par
ker, but to speak themselves. They were no servile followers of a dead
leader, no blinded apostles of a vanished Christ. Far from it. They
were called by you to proclaim independently and fearlessly the secret
thought of their own hearts ; for this alone did they come before you.
And still your platform means this, and this only. True, in one sense
�35
Parker is still heard from it; for his ideas are not dead, but living. But
you have perpetuated your organization and your platform for a higher
object than to secure endless reverberations of any one voice, however
piercing, eloquent, or potent. You meant, and mean, that Truth shall
here speak for herself, not that Parker alone shall be heard, magnifi
cent spokesman of Truth though he was. And Truth has infinitely
more to say than has yet been said.
No, it was not so much Parker’s individual voice that you voted should
“ have a chance to be heard in Boston,” as it was the great, heroic, burn
ing purpose to which he had dedicated his all —the purpose to make hu
man life genuinely religious in spite of the churches. I repeat it—to make
human life genuinely religious in spite of the churches. Not ecclesi
astical, not theological, not formal or ritualistic; but religious in the
high sense in which he used the word, as signifying devotion to right
eousness, to noble service, to devout aspiration. This purpose of Par
ker’s soul was even grander than his thought. Thought must change;
it must move j it must advance. |£ven since Parker’s death we all
know that there has been a great onward movement of thought; and to
the best thought of the times, be it what it may, you mean always to
keep open ear and heart. But the purpose to make human life genu
inely religious must abide as the best and purest that can inspire a hu
man soul. This was Parker’s inspiration and power, obeyed under the
frown of all the churches of the land. To this sublime purpose of his
you first voted a hearing, and now ^dedicate these walls. That mar
ble bust before you, perpetuating Parker’s visible features to your sight,
is changeless, immobile, ungrowing; it will be the same a hundred
years hence as it is to-day. But Parker’s mind, could it still have
manifested itself to us, would have been in the very foremost ranks of
thought. This you will remember, and know that, in the best sense,
you hear Parker still in the noblest utterances of ever-developing
knoweledge and ever-deepening aspiration. His mighty purpose shall
still be ours; and all the churches of the land shall lack the power to
quench or cool it. This stately hall, built as a grateful memorial to
the singleness and power with which he put it into deed and word, shall
be a home for all who cherish it,— a place of comfort, enlightenment,
and inspiration to all who love it, a place of mutual spmpathy and en
couragement for all who would pursue it. You could have raised no
fitter monument to Parker, and rendered no better service to those
who would further Parker’s cause.
�36
XI. ADDRESS. BY CHARLES W. SLACK.
Mr. Chairman : The spirit that has erected this handsome build
ing was latent in the community, and needed only to be called into
activity to have ensured the same result before as now. I congratu
late you, and all this large and interested audience, at the splendid
conclusion of our labors in this direction.
You will remember, sir, that it was at the annual meeting of the
Twenty-eighth Congregational Society, on the first Sunday in April,
1871, — only two years and a half ago, — that I had the honor to sug
gest that it seemed to me that we, as a Society, were not doing our full
duty, either to the memory of our great teacher, or to the community
in which we dwelt; that we held great truths in matters of religion
which should have a more conspicuous enunciation; that if we were
willing to adopt the forms of worship in which we were educated,
erect a church edifice, and, in good time, as judgment should approve,
select a permanent minister, who should not only be a guide in thought,
but a visitor and counsellor in our families in the alternating incidents
of life and death; I should be only too happy to lend what energy and
influence I possessed to the consummation of that purpose. You will
remember, too, sir, that the suggestion was kindly received, and it was
felt that the plan of a meeting-house of our own was practicable, if
one-half of the amount of money deemed necessary for its ■ erection
could be secured before operations should commence. It was our
great pleasure, you will also remember, Mr. Chairman, to announce at
the next annual meeting, in April, 1872, that fully fifty thousand dol
lars, in money and work, had been pledged by our small band for the
new enterprise. Thence everything moved with alacrity ; friends were
found on every hand; plans were considered and adopted; and now,
in a little more than fifteen months from the commencement of opera
tions, we find ourselves in this completed and central edifice, with
every convenience and many elegances, ready to proceed to our neces
sary work and demonstrate our need in the community i» which we
dwell.
And there is reason that we should make this demonstration. We
had a leader who, while he lived, was acknowledged to be a power in
thought and personal influence. He uplifted every pulpit in the land,
giving freedom to the voice and thought of their occupants; he bade
the young men of his day accept independence of character and action ;
he taught the liberalizing of opinion, and urged resistance to those often
�brutal episodes of public clamor when the dominant majority sought to
crush out the honest, thinking minority; in a word, he made every man
with a soul within feel the better and the nobler for his ministration in
religion, politics, and morals. If his high aim and earnest endeavor
be not so potent and perceptible to-day as fifteen years ago, possibly it
is because we have not improved our opportunities in presenting his
example and teaching to the world. There is indeed need that we
dedicate ourselves anew to his service when we read, as we may in
the latest “ Biographical Dictionary ” published, bearing the imprint
of the great house of Macmillan & Co., London and New York, and
compiled by Thompson Cooper. F.S.A., this estimate of his public
position': —
“ He became a popular lecturer, and discussed the questions of slavery,
war, and social and moral reforms, with much acute analysis and occasional
effective satire ; but as a practical Teacher he was in the unfortunate posi
tion of a priest without a church and a politician without a state.”
And this is the best judgment of I® intelligent Englishman, so many
years remote from Theodore Parker’s activity among us 1 Surely the
editor is too far away to discern the influence of this great man on
the thought of the times. Possibly he may have been “ a priest ” with
out “ a church,” but he was a minister who made every denomination
in the land envious of his scholarship and eloquence, and more than
half the churches jealous of the throngs of his weekly disciples.
But why be surprised at the judgment of the Englishman, three thou
sand miles away, when we have on our own soil, near-by, a more depre
ciatory estimate by one belonging to the generally large-hearted and
catholic Methodist denomination ? The Reverend Professor George
Prentice, of the Wesleyan University, Middletown, Conn., can afford to
say in “The Methodist Quarterly Review,” for July, 1873, of Theodore
Parker, this: —
£< I am amazed at the daring of a man who never had fine culture and
high philosophic talent; whose chief gift was the gift of exaggeration ;
whose life was largely that of a peripatetic stump-orator, hot with perpetual
lecturing, agitating, denouncing and misrepresenting, when he tries to
mould the thought of the world on a matter profound and difficult.”
And this is the verdict of the Methodist collegiate instructor, and
of his denomination, fitfeen years after the death of Theodore Parker,
of that man’s transcendent abilities — is it? Let me, as the humblest
of the humble followers of Theodore Parker, fling back to its obscure
�38
utterer his flippant, his impudent, detraction of a man whose courage
of opinion has made it possible for his defamer to utter even his slan
der without public rebuke— whose claims to culture and scholarship
will live long after the occupant of the professor’s chair who now belit
tles him will be utterly forgotten, if not despised! The scholarship
of Theodore Parker questioned! — as soon ask if mind and character
are formative elements in New England character 1 Go to the scholars
of twenty-five years ago who measured weapons with Theodore Parker,
and this forward stripling will learn that he had a reputation for cul
ture and humanity that no later-day controversialist can question, anx
ious however he may be that the students under his charge shall never
hear to the contrary, and thus be led to examine for themselves into
his opinions and services.
Without “fine culture ”!•—a “peripatetic stump-orator”! — a “priest
without a church and a politician without a state” ! — this the conjoint
testimony to-day of England and America! Surely there is something
for us to do, friends, to show that there is at least one congegation,
still abiding at the home of this great man, which does not accept this
estimate. Nor are we alone in this. It was but yesterday I was con
versing with Vice-President Wilson in relation to the exercises of this
day, when he surprised as well as gratified me. by incidentally mention
ing that when he first entered the Senate Mr. Seward, the great Sena
tor of New York, a statesman as well as legislator, came to him one
day and said, “You have a wonderful man in Boston — Theodore
Parker. I know of no man in the country who so thoroughly appreci
ates the political situation, has such a comprehensive grasp of the
issues involved, and applies so faithfully the moral teachings that will
safely land us on solid ground.” Surely, friends, we can safely leave
the influence of Mr. Parker in morals and politics, letting alone schol
arship and religion, to those who knew him best and were brought
within the range of his acquaintance and co-operation!
Standing here to-day, then, in the capacity of representative of the
proprietors of this beautiful edifice, it remains only for me to bid all
welcome who find themselves drawn by sympathy or love to worship
with this congregation. May it be the home of helpful teaching and
quickening influence 1 May good-will and all sweet charities abound-!
Spacious in area and soft in coloring, may it typify breadth of affection
and the repose of settled conviction ! Thus used, and thus influencing
us, we shall come to believe that we have made a wise investment, and
�39
take satisfaction in the thought that the good work of the generation
now on the stage of affairs shall descend, developed and multiplied, to
their children for long years to follow.
XII.
GOD IN THE HUMAN SOUL.
BY SARAH F. ADAMS.
(Sung by Choir and Congregation?)
Nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer to Thee 1
E’en though it be a cross
That raiseth me ;
Still all my song shall be, —
Nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer to Thee 1
Though like the wanderer,
The sun gone down,
Darkness be over me,
My rest a stone ;
Yet.in my dreams I’d be
Nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer to Thee!
There let the way appear,
Steps unto heaven;
All that Thou sendest me,
In mercy given ;
Angels to beckon me
Nearer, my God, to Thee,.
Nearer to Thee !
Then, with my walking thoughts
Bright with Thy praise,
Out of my stony griefs
Bethel I’ll raise;
So by my woes to be
Nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer to Thee 1
�40
Or if, on joyful wing
Cleaving the sky,
Sun, moon, and stars forgot,
Upward I fly:
Still all my song shall be, —
Nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer to Thee 1
XIII. BENEDICTION.
BY SAMUEL LONGFELLOW.
�LETTERS.
The following letters were received, addressed to John C. Haynes,
Chairman of the Standing Committee of the Twenty-eighth Congrega
tional Society, in answer to invitations to be present at the dedication
of the Parker Memorial Meeting-House: —
Salem, Sept. 14, 1873.
I have been quite ill for a month, and, though now gradually gaining
strength, am too weak as yet for any effort; so that I shall hardly be able
to attend, even as a hearer only, the Memorial Hall services, next Sunday.
I need not say that my best sympathies will be with the occasion, and that
I am sorry to lose the opportunity to hear what will be so quickening to the
higher life as the word it promises to bring with it.
What omens can you ask, better than the house itself, and the secret
forces that impel Its whole movement, and its grand ideal duties, as inevi
table as the rights we claim ?
Sincerely yours,
Samuel Johnson.
New York, Sept. 17, 1873.
The completion of your new hall is an event to be congratulated on, an
achievement worthy of the Old Guard that bears the glorious banner and
preserves the glorious tradition of Theodore Parker. The thing that should
be done in New York, that must be done here before long, and in other
cities, too, you have done in Boston. There Radicalism has a rallying place
and a home. Here it is dependent on the good, must I say, rather, the ill
will, of proprietors who are so jealous for the reputation of their halls that
good, honest infidels cannot use them. With you now, the Young Men’s
Christian Association have not all the fine audience rooms. The devil has
not all the good tunes.
I wish I could be present at your dedication to the Spirit of Truth, the
Comforter. Your'speaker will say the right word. But many right words
need be said on such an occasion, and no speaker can say them all. May
the spirit of the great and good Theodore be with him and you !
You say your hall is commodious. I hope it is handsome, fair in propordon, beautiful in decoration, cheerful, airy, good for voice and ear; attrac-
6
�42
tive and inviting to strangers ; like the new faith itself, which would glorify
every spot it touches. Spare no pains to make it and keep it a centre of
happy influences; crowd into it as much intellect, sentiment, earnestness,
and aspiration as it will hold; and as these angels take up no room, a mill
ion of them standing on the point of a needle, you will have space enough ,
for a good many. Use the room for good purposes. If you have a preacher,
let him have a multitudinous voice, in the persons of truest spirit wherever
found, that a line of prophets may pass before you and deliver their word.
In this way you will best make a worthy succession, for the man who has,
and is likely to have, no successor.
To write these hurried lines, I turn my pen off the task of writing his
biography, which has been the refreshment of my summer. As it draws
near completion, I am conscious of a new indebtedness to the great soul I
admired and loved so deeply. If the readers of the book find what I have
tried to put there, they will confess that not one Memorial Hall, but many,
should be erected to the honor of that great leader.
Thanking you for your kind invitation to be present on Sunday next, re
gretting my inability to be present, because my own services are resumed on
that day, and wishing you the brightest of days and the sweetest of omens,
believe me,
x
Heartily yours,
O. B. Frothingham.
West Manchester, Sept. 20, 1873.
I have just got your note. It is impossible for me to be, as I gladly would,
at your Dedication, having to go -to Salem to-morrow. Were it my privilege
to speak, I should certainly say in what honor I hold Theodore Parker for
his honesty, courage, piety, and philanthropy ; and for the application he
made, beyond any other theologian or scholar of his day, of moral truth and
the results of study to the social condition and want. No such hero wore the
clerical gown. While poets and essayists were willing to leave their views and
visions in their treatises or musical lines, he insisted in putting every prin
ciple as a power in gear ; and, if any error or iniquity were hid beneath, he
would rend the veil of the temple in twain. But if he destroyed, it was to
rebuild, whatever hands beside his own might be required.
I may be allowed to express the early affection I had for him, and to re
member the friendly regard he cherished for me beyond my deserts, so that
I have a debt of gratitude to pay, should we meet again where the warrior’s
armor is laid aside. It was his wish that I should give him the Right Hand
of Fellowship in West Roxbury, but I was away in another State at the
time of his settlement in that town.
As so long indeed he has had it, may he, with you, accept it, in the spirit,
now!
Cordially yours,
C. A. Bartol.
�43
New York City, Sept. 17, 1873.
I have received your invitation to be with you at the dedication of your
new hall, next Sunday. I sympathize very deeply with the Society in this
new opening, but my obligations here make it impossible for me to be pres
ent.
•
After many years of doubt and trouble and hard efforts, you enter at last
upon cheering prospects. The climb has been difficult, but the hill-top is glorious. You will enter now and possess the land, spread out before all with
invitation, but to be possessed only by those who will work in it for the good
of man. No heart among you beats for you more exultingly or more hope
fully than mine.
*
I wish I could figure to my mind the interior of this goodly home which
you have erected. Sometime I shall see it. Meantime I shall think of it as
a worthy body for the soul of the Twenty-eighth Society; neat, clean, lovely,
and simple. It will be a place where the best may be uplifted, and the
worst be not repulsed.
I think I can imagine the joy and enthusiasm with which you take pos
session of your abode. An exquisite composition by William Blake depicts
the union, or reunion, of the soul and the body at “ the last great day,” as it
is called by those who forget that every day is great and is a judgment-day.
The body arises from the tomb, and the soul bursts rapturously from a cloud,
and with inconceivable force descends headlong upon the body, whose neck
it clasps, whose lips it seizes, in the ecstasy of reinvesting the animal frame
with life and joy from heaven. This has been in my mind as an image of
your advent to new life, when you, the soul, enter into your newly arisen
house, the body. I think it is your just reward for a past which has cer
tainly been very steadfast under many discouragements ; and I believe it in
volves for you the prophecy for the future which is so radiantly given in the
above-mentioned poet’s picture.
,
I am sincerely yours,
J. V. Blake.
Monday, Sept. 15, 1873.
We are still in the country, and this, with Mrs. Phillips’s health considered,
renders it impossible for me to be with you Sunday. I am very sorry. Ac
cept my heartiest wishes for your full success.
Wendell Phillips.
New Bedford, Sept. 15, 1873.
I am happy to learn that the “Parker Memorial Meeting-House ” is so
soon to be dedicated. It would give me great pleasure to accept your invi
tation to be present on the occasion; but as I have just resumed my pulpit
duties at home, after several months’ absence, I do not think that I ought to
be away so early as Sunday, the 21st, and must therefore deny myself the
gratification of joining with you in the interesting services. The name, “ Par
�44
ker Memorial Meeting-House,” has a pleasant sound, — not only as holding
the memory of Theodore Parker, but as recalling the primitive days of the
Puritans, of whom Mr. Parker was a genuine descendant, both by the pro
gressiveness of his thought and the robust heroism of his character.
Long may the new meeting-house stand to help keep alive in Bbston the
elements of such character, and so to promote the interests of pure and ra
tional religion.
Very truly yours,
Wm. J. Potter.
Brooklyn, Sept. 15, 1873.
It would give me sincere pleasure to be present at the dedication of your
new “Meeting-House.” I am glad you have named it as you have. I like
the sound of “ Meeting-House” much better than the sound of “Church.”
It is homely and solid, and so joins on well with Parker’s name — he was so
homely and solid. If it has a savor of Quakerism, that will not hurt. I
cannot be with you, because I am just back from my long vacation. I am
sure Longfellow will speak the right word to you,, and then you will have it
printed so that the poor fellows who cannot come to the feast will have a
sort of “ second table ” spread for them.
It seems to me much better that Parker should have a memorial hall
built for him thirteen years after his death than at any time before. A
great many men, who get imposing monuments soon after their death, would
go unmonumented if the world paused a little and considered. But every
year since Parker’s death has made him seem more worthy of remem
brance. In calling your building by his name, I know you do not mean to
make it any citadel of his opinions, but a home for his spirit, which was the
spirit of truth and love and righteousness. And I trust the new “ MeetingHouse ” will justify its name by being not merely a meeting-place for differ
ent people, but also a meeting-place for different opinions and ideas. Radi
calism is good, but still better is Liberality, and the faith that wrong opinions
may somehow represent a truth to those who cherish them. And so, “ with
malice towards none, and charity for all,” may you go forward, and may the
dear God prosper you, and comfort you, and build you up forever.
Yours faithfully,
J. W Chadwick.
Dansville, N.Y., Sept. 18th, 1873.
I thank you for the invitation to be present at the dedication of your new
“ Meeting-House,” and heartily wish it was in my power to accept it. But
I have been debarred from work by illness for some months past, and am
still an invalid, though I trust on the road to health.
I congratulate you on the completion of the Society’s new home, and shall
have pleasure in thinking of you in your commodious quarters. While I
�45
wish you all material prosperty, my desire is a thousand-fold greater that
you may be imbued with the spirit of him whose name you commemorate ;
that you may emulate his courage, his fidelity to the truth however unpopu
lar, his grand catholicity, that could be satisfied with nothing less than the
salvation, temporal and eternal, of a whole humanity. As he recognized the
motherly element in God, and made his religion vital with love as well as
luminous with thought, so may you. May you accord to women in the pul
pit, in the society, in all the walks of life, full equality with man; equal lib
erty to use the powers with which God has endowed her. May you consti
tute such a fraternity'of true-hearted men and women as the world has never
seen ; untramelled by any creed, limited by no boundaries of sect, the world
your field, the sorrowing and sinful your especial care ; may you go on from
strength to strength; and with no doubtful sound proclaim the dawning of
“ the near new day.”
Hoping sometime to be able to accept the invitation to preach for you
again, I am, with all best wishes,
Cordially yours,
Celia Burleigh.
Syracuse, N.Y., Sept. 19th, 1873.
I am glad to be able to congratulate you all on the completion of your
enterprise, which once more gives you a local habitation. The name you
have always had. It is a noble one, and binds you all by many grand mem
ories to the steady and persistent pursuit of Truth in Thought and Righteousmess in Life.
_ The bitter days when the prophets prophesied clothed in sackcloth are
over, thanks to God and their God-directed labors. It is the task of our
generation to help to bring in that Coming Time, which they foresaw and for
which they gave themselves, body and soul. May you all be inspired to do
your full share of the great work.
With kindest remembrances to all your Society, I remain,
Yours fraternally,
S. R. Calthrop.
Marshfield, Sept. 19, 1873.
I received to-day your kind invitation to attend the dedicatory services of
your Parker Memorial Hall, on Sunday. I should be glad to comply with it
and participate briefly in the exercises as you request. It is not easy for me
to leave home for two nights, as would be necessary in order to be in Boston
on that day of the week, and I see no way to do it.
The construction of your hall I look upon as a most auspicious event, as
well as an evidence of the faith and courage of those who, through doubt
and discouragement of no common magnitude, have held aloft the standard
of free thought and speech since your great hero was summoned from earth,
and his body laid to sleep in the Soil of the beautiful Italian city made fa-
�46
mous in history by the genius of Dante and the sublime piety and martyrdom
of Savonarola.
In this marvelous dream which we call life, there is nothing more won
derful and inspiring than the great moral and political revolution which has
been accomplished in this country since Mr. Parker came upon the stage of
manhood. I remember seeing him at the series of reform meetings, held
mostly in Chardon St. Chapel, in i839~4°> t° discuss the character and use
of “ the Sabbath, the Church, and the Ministry.” He was a young, modest,
and unassuming man ; but even then giving signs of the mighty force which
afterwards in the Melodeon and Music Hall exposed the rottenness of Church
and State, and gave such an impetus to the cause of freedom, both of body
and mind.
From him largely proceeded the impulse that has given new life to a na
tion, and emancipated the mind of the age from the thralldom of priestly rule.
His mantle rests upon you. His spirit and purpose are nourished by the
Society which bears his name. You do well to inscribe that name on the
building you have erected. Long may it continue, and be an instrument in
the hands of the Parker Fraternity for the more perfect education, eman
cipation, and elevation of the human race.
Yours, in the everlasting life,
N. H. Whiting.
I
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Dublin Core
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Title
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Victorian Blogging
Description
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A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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Conway Hall Library & Archives
Date
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2018
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Conway Hall Ethical Society
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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
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Dedicatory services of the Parker Memorial Meeting House by the twenty-eighth Congregational Society, of Boston, Sunday, Sept,21, 1873
Creator
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Conway, Moncure Daniel [1832-1907.]
Description
An account of the resource
Place of publication: Boston
Collation: 46 p. ; 24 cm.
Notes: Dedication hymn / Samuel Johnson -- Remarks of John C. Haynes -- Scripture reading -- Prayer -- Dedication hymn / W.C. Gannett -- Discourse / Samuel Longfellow -- God in humanity (hymn) / John G. Whittier -- Address by Ednah D. Cheney -- Address by John Weiss -- Address by Francis E. Abbot-- Address by Charles W. Slack -- God in the human soul (hymn) / Sarah F. Adams - benediction / Samuel Longfellow. Contains letters (p.39-46) received by John C. Haynes, Chairman, in answer to invitations to be present at the dedication of the Parker Memorial Meeting House. From the library of Dr Moncure Conway.
Publisher
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Cochrane & Sampson, printers
Date
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1873
Identifier
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G5365
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<a href="http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/"><img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /></a><span> </span><br /><span>This work (Dedicatory services of the Parker Memorial Meeting House by the twenty-eighth Congregational Society, of Boston, Sunday, Sept,21, 1873), identified by </span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk"><span>Humanist Library and Archives</span></a><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span>
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application/pdf
Type
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Text
Language
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English
Subject
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Sermons
Conway Tracts
Parker Memorial Meeting House (Boston)
Sermons