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1st QUARTER, 1876.
TWO-FENCE,
A SERMON
DELIVERED AT THE PENNSYLVANIA YEARLY MEETING OF
PROGRESSIVE FRIENDS IN THE YEAR 1858.
3
By THEODORE PARKER.
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THE READER.
Of four sermons delivered by Theodore Parker before the Pennsylvania
Progressive Friends in the year 1858, this is the first. The remaining three,
treat of the “Ecclesiastical Conception of God,'’ the “ Philosophical Idea of
God,” and the “Souls Normal Delight in the Infinite God.” These will be
reprinted during the year. It will be seen therefore, that one leading idea is
common to the four discourses. The object in reproducing them is to serve the
cause of religious truth.
JAMES MACDONALD, Elmwood Street.
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To guaranteed Subscribers of One Shilling per quarter and upwards,
these Sermons will be supplied at the rate of l\d. each, single
copies 2d., post free 2^d.
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B. WILLIAMS, “TIMES” STEAM AND HYDRAULIC PRINTING WORKS,
129, HIGH STREET.
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SUNDERLAND.
The following course of Lectures will be delivered in the
above place of worship, on the undernamed Sunday
Evenings ;—1876,
January 2nd.—Bev. JAMES MACDONALD.—“Man’s Duties
Pertaining to Beligion.”
January 9th.—Rev. JAMES MACDONALD. — “ Modern
Literature in Relation to the Bible.”
January 16th.—GEORGE LUCAS, Esq.—“ The Everlasting
Gospel.”
JanuarY 23rd.—Rev. JAMES MACDONALD. — “ The
Kingdom of Heaven and its Conditions of Entrance.”
January 30th.—Rev. JAMES MACDONALD. — “The
Utility of Biblical Criticism.”
February 6th.—Rev. JAMES MACDONALD.—“The Logic
of Christian Orthodoxy.”
February 13th.—Rev. H. AV. PERRIS (of Warrington).—
“ Modern Life Theories, and their bearing on Religious
Philosophy.”
February 20th.—Rev. JAS. MACDONALD.—“The Tempta
tion of Jesus in the Wilderness.”
February 27th.—Mr. JAMES WATSON.—“ Christ, the Son
of Man.”
March 5th.—Rev. JAMES MACDONALD.—“ ReligiouS Life
and Individual Indifference.”
March 12th.—Rev. JAMES MACDONALD.—“ Prophets—
Ancient and Modern.”
March 19th.—Rev. JAMES MACDONALD.—“ Immortality
and Religion.”
March 26th.—Rev. JAMES MACDONALD.—“The Christ
of the Gospel, not the Christ of so-called Christian
Orthodoxy.”
ALL SEATS FREE.
The offertory at the close of each service.
MORNING SERVICE at a Quarter to Eleven.
EVENING SERVICE at Half-past Six.
Strangers are requested to enter and take any seat that
may be vacant.
�THE
PROGRESSIVE DEVELOPMENT OF THE CONCEPTION
OF GOD IN THE BOOKS OF THE BIBLE.
A SERMON
BY
THEODORE
PARKER.
In the human race nothing is ever still; the stream of
humanity rolls continually forward, change following change ;
nation succeeds to nation, theology to theology, thought
to thought. Taken as a whole, this change is a Progress, an
ascent from the lower and ruder to the higher and more
comprehensive. Individuals die, special families pass off,
nations go under; and a whole race, like the American Indians,
may perish, and their very blood be dried up from the ground;
yet still mankind survives, and all the material or spiritual
good achieved by any race, nation, family, individual, reverts
at last to mankind, who not only has eminent domain over
the earth, but is likewise heir at history of Moses, of the
Heraclides, of Egypt, and of the American Indians. So of
much that slips out from the decaying hand of the individual
or the race, nothing is ever lost to humanity ; much is out
grown, nought wasted. The milk-teeth of the baby are as
necessary as the meat-teeth, the biters and the grinders of the
adult man. Little Ikie Newton had a top and hoop ; spin
ning and trundling were as needful to the boy as mathematical
rules of calculation to the great and world-renowned Sir Isaac.
The Progress of Mankind is continuous and onward, as much
subject to a natural law of development as our growth from
babyhood to adult life.
You see this change and progress in all departments of
human activity, in Religion and Theology, as distinct as in
spinning and weaving. Theological ideas are instruments for
making character, as carpenters’ tools for making houses,
Take the long sweep of four thousand years that history
runs over, and the improvement in theological ideas is as
remarkable as the change in carpenters’ tools. You see this
progress especially in the Conception of God, and in the
Worship that is paid to him conformable to that conception.
�2
THE PROGRESSIVE DEVELOPMENT OF THE CONCEPTION. I
* Sere the change is continuous, and the progress is full of
encouragement for the future.
What unlikeness in the conceptions of God which Christian
men have to day ! The notion of God set forth in certain
churches differs from yours and mine more than Moloch differs
from Jehovah. Certainly the God which some ministers
scare their congregations withal, is to me only a Devil—a
Devil who has no existence, and never appears out of the
theological graveyard, where this ghost of buried superstitions
11 walksfrom time to time to frighten men into the momentary
panic of a revival.
The Bible has become the Sacred-Book of all Christendom.
It is not only valued for its worth, which is certainly very great,
' but still more for its fancied authority—because it is thought to
be a Revelation made directly and miraculously by God, to
certain men whom he inspired with the doctrine it contains.
Now, God must know himself, and that perfectly, and if he
-make a revelation thereof, he must portray himself exactly as
he is. So it is maintained in all Christendom, that to learn
the character of God, you are not to go to the World of
■ Matter, or to the World of Man, but only to Revelation, which
mirrors back to you his exact image and likeness; giving you
God, the whole of God, and nothing but God. Accordingly, it
is said that the conception of God is the same in all parts of
the Bible, howsoever old or new, without variableness or
shadow of turning.
But when you come to look at the Bible itself, and study it
part by part, and then put the results of your study into a
whole, you find a remarkable difference in regard to the
chararter of God himself, that depends on the general civili
zation and enlightenment of the times and the writers : the
further you go back,, the ruder all things become. Take the
whole of Greek literature, from Homer, eleven hundred years
before Christ, to Anna Commena, eleven hundred years after
him, and there is a great change in the poetic representa
tions of God. The same thing happens in the books of the
Bible. They extend over twelve or thirteen hundred years;
it may be, perhaps, fourteen hundred. Perhaps Genesis is the
oldest book, and the Fourth Gospel the newest. What a
difference between the God in Genesis and that in the Fourth
Gospel! Can any thoughtful man conceive that these two
conflicting and'various notions of God could ever have come
from the same source ? Let any of you read through the
book of Genesis and then the Fourth Gospel, and you will be
astonished at the diversity, nay, the hostility even, between
the God in the old book and the new one. Then, and at some
subsequent time, look at the various books between the two,
�OF GOD IN THE BOOKS OF THE BIBLE.
3
.and you see what different notions of the Divine Being there
are in this “ infallible miraculous revelation of God.”
Let us look at this great matter in some details, and to see
just what the facts are, and make the whole matter as clear as
noonday light, divide the Bible into its three great parts, the
Old Testament, the Apocrypha, and the New Testament. In
the Old Testament, Genesis may perhaps have been written in
its present form, about a thousand years before Christ, though
some scholars put it a few hundreds of years nearer our own
time; at any rate it seems to have been compiled from
.ancient documents, some of them perhaps existing thirteen
or fourteen hundred years before the birth of Christ, though
others are clearly later. The book of Daniel, a spurious
work, was evidently written between 170 and 160 years
before Christ. In the Apocrypha, the book of Eccelsiasticus is
perhaps the oldest work, and seems to have been written
about 180 years before the birth of Jesus. The latest book is
The Wisdom of Solomon, of uncertain date. In the New
Testament, Paul’s Epistle to the Galatians is the oldest, and
was perhaps written 58 or 60 years after Christ; the Fourth
Gospel, I think, is the last, and was written, perhaps, 120 or
140 years after Christ. There are seventy books in the
canonical and apocryphal Bible. With the exception of four
teen prophets, Ezra, Nehemiah, David, and Asaph, the two
authors of some thirty or forty, perhaps fifty of the Psalms,
we know the name of ho writer of the nine-and-thirty books of
the Old Testament. Of the Apocrypha we know the name of
the writer of the book of Ecclesiasticus, of him no more; of
others not even that. In the New Testament it seems clear
that Paul wrote the Epistle to the Galatians, that to the
Romans, and the two to the Corinthians ; but I doubt if we
are certain who wrote any other of its twenty-seven books !
Here, then, out -of seventy biblical books, containing the
writings of more than one hundred authors, we know the
names of fourteen Hebrew prophets, two Psalmists, two other
writers in the Old Testament, one in the Apocrypha, one in
the New Testament—twenty men. This fact that we know
so little of the authorship of the biblical books is fatal to their
authority as a standard of faith, but it does not in the smallest
degree affect their value as religious documents, or as signs of
the times when they were written. I don’t care who made
the vane on the steeple, if it tell which way the wind blows
—That is all I want : I don’t know who reared these handsome
flowers ; it matters not; their beauty and fragrance tell their
own story. We know the time the documents came from,
and they are monuments of the various ages, though we know
not who made or put them together.
Now, look at the conception of God in the first and last of
�4
THE PROGRESSIVE DEVELOPMENT OF THE CONCEPTION
these three divisions. Of course in the brevity of a morning
s
*
sermon I can only select the most remarkable and charac
teristic things. I shall begin with the oldest part of the Old
Testament, and end with the latest part of the New.
1. At first sight it seems the Hebrews believed in many
gods, and no effort of the wisestand best men could keep the
nation from falling back to idolatry for centuries. It was not
until after the Babylonian Captivity which began in 586 B.C.,
and ended about eighty years later that the Israelites re
nounced their idolatry; then contact with monothestic and
civilised people corrected this vice.
At first, in the Bible, Jehovah appears as one God amongst
others, and seems to have his council of gods about him.
Next he is the special god of the descendants of Jacob, and
called the God of Israel. By and by he is represented as
stronger than any of the other gods; he can beat them in
battle, though sometimes he gets worsted. Finally, he is the
only God, and has regard for all nations, though he still takes
special care of the Hebrews, who are his chosen people. The
book of Job, I think, is the only one in the Old Testament
which makes it appear that God cares for all men alike, and
this seems to be the only book in the Old Testament which
was not written by a Jew. I think it is one of the latest books
in that collection.
Now see what character is ascribed to God in the earliest
documents of the Bible. The first five books of Moses are the
oldest; they contain the most rude and unspiritual ideas of
God. He is represented as a very limited and imperfect being.
He makes the world in six days, part by part, one thing at a
time, as a mechanic does his work. He makes man out of
dust, in “ his own image and likeness,” breathes into him, and
he becomes a living soul. God looks on the world when he
has finished it, and is pleased with his work, “ and behold it
was very good.” But he is tired with his week’s work, rests
on the seventh day, and “ was refreshed,” The next week he
looks at his work, to see how it goes on, and he finds that he
must mend it a little. All animals rejoice in their mates, but
thoughtful Adam wanders lone ; he must have his Eve. So
God puts him into a deep sleep, takes one of his ribs, makes
a woman of it, and the next morning there is a help meet for
him. But the new man and woman behave rather badly. God
comes down and walks in the garden in the cool of the day,
calls Adam and Eve, inquires into their behaviour, chides
them for their misconduct, and. in consequence of their
wrong deed he is very angry with all things, and curses the serpent, curses Eve, curses Adam, and even the ground. The
man and woman have tasted of the Tree of Knowledge, and.
he turns them out of the garden of Eden lest they should also
�OF GOD IN THE BOOKS OF THE BIBLE.
5
eat of the Tree of Life, and thereby live for ever. By and by
God repents that he made man, and “ it grieved him at his
heart,” they behave so badly; so in his wrath he sweeps off all
mankind, except eight persons ; but after the flood is over
Noah offers a burnt offering, and God smells the sweet savour
and is pacified, and says he will not again curse the ground,
and he will never destroy the human race a second time.
To know what happens he must go from place to place ; thus
he understands that the people are building a tower, and
comes near enough to look at it, and, not liking the undertak
ing, he says, “ Go to now, let us go down and confound their
language, that they may not understand one another’s speech ”
he scatters them abroad, and they cannot build the tower,
which was to reach up to heaven.
Afterwards he hears bad
news from Sodom and Gomorrah, that “ their sin is grievous.”
He does not quite credit the tidings, and says, £> 1 will go
down now, and see whether they have done altogether accord
ing to the cry of it, which is come unto me, and if not I will
know.” He talks with Abraham, who pleads for sparing the
wicked city, beats Abraham in argument, and “ as soon as he
had left communing with Abraham,” ££ the Lord wenthis way.” .
God appears to man visibly—to Adam, Noah, Abraham,
Jacob, and to Moses. ■ He talks with all those persons in the
most familiar- way, in the Hebrew tongue : “ the Lord talked
r”
to Moses, face to face, as a man speaketh with his brother.”
He makes a bargain -with Abraham, then with Jacob and his
children. It is solemnly ratified, for good and sufficient con
consideration on both sides. It is for value received : God con
veys a great quantity of land to Abraham and his posterity,
and guarantees the title; they are to circumcise all their male
children eight days after birth; that is the jocular tenure by
which they hold Palestine. God swears that he will keep his
covenant, and though sometimes sorely tempted to break it, he
yet adheres to the oath:
“ And though he promise to his loss,
He makes the promise good.”
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He dines with Abraham, coming in unexpected one day.
Abraham kills a calf, “ tender and good.” Sarah makes cakes
of fine meal, extemporaneously baked on the hearth. Butter
and milk are set forth, and God, with two attendants, makes
his dinner.
. While Moses was travelling from Midian to Egypt, the Lord
met him at a tavern, and “ sought to kill him,” but Moses’s
wife circumcised her son before God’s eyes—so God let the
“ bloody husband ” go.
He is partial, hates the heathen, takes good care of the
Jews, not because they deserve it, but because he will not
break his covenant. He is jealous ; he writes it with his own
�6
TTiE-ItIocSeSsTvE dSvELOPMTNT
OF THE CONCEPTION
finger in the ten commandments : “ I, the Lord thy God' ani
a jealous God and again, “ Jehovah, his name is jealous.” He
is vain also, and longs for the admiration of the heathen, and.
is dissuaded by Moses from destroying the Israelites when,
they had provoked him, lest the Egyptians should hear of it,,
and his fame should suffer.
Look at this account of one of God’s transactions in Numb,
xiv. : “And the Lord says unto Moses, how long will,
this people provoke me ? And how long will it be ere they
believe me, for all the signs which I have showed amongthem ? I will smite them with the pestilence, and disinherit
them, and will make of thee a greater nation, and mightier
than they.” And Moses replied : “ Then the Egyptians shall
hear of it, and they will tell it to the inhabitants of the land ;
they will say, “ Because the Lord was not able to bring the
people into the land which he sware unto them, therefore hehath slain them in the wilderness
“ Pardon, I beseech thee,
the iniquity of this people 1” So, lest the Gentiles should
think him weak, Jehovah lets the Hebrews off for a time, and
instead of destroying millions of men at once, he spread their
ruin over several years. “ In this wilderness they shall be
consumed, and there they shall die.”
He is capricious, revengeful, exceedingly ill-tempered ; hehas fierce wrath and cruelty; he is angry even with the
Hebrews, and one day says to Moses, “ Take all the heads
of the people (that is the leading men, the citizens of eminentgravity), and hang them up before the Lord against the sun.”
Once God is angry with the people who murmur against
Moses, and says to him, “ Get you up from among this con
gregation, that I may consume them as in a moment!” Moses.
is more merciful than his God; he must appease this Deity
whois “a consuming fire.” So he tells Aaron, “ Take a
censer, and put fire therein from off the altar, and put on
incense, and go quickly unto the congregation, and make an
atonement for them; for there is wrath gone out from the
Lord; the plague is begun !” Aaron does so. and the plagueis stayed, though not till the fury of the Lord had killed, four
teen thousand and seven hundred men ! (Numb. xvi. 41—50.)
God hates some of the nations with relentless wrath; Abra
ham interferes, pleading for Sodom and Gomorrah, Afoses for
the Israelites, but nobody cares for the rest of the people or
burns incense for them, so God says, “ I will utterly put out
the remembrance of Amalek from under heaven.” All the
Canaanites, the Hittites, the Hivites, the Perizzites, the Girgashites, the Amorites, and the Jebusites are to be rooted out
—seven nations, each of which was more numerous than the
Hebrews : “Thou shalt smite them, and utterly destroy them;
thou shalt make no covenant with them, nor show mercy unto
�<
OF GOD IN THE BOOKS OF THE BIBLE.
'
them,” saith the Lord. The Canaanites and the Moabites
were kindred of the Hebrews, of the same ethnologic tribe,
but they could not enter into the congregation of the Lord
unto the tenth generation !
This God—powerful, terrible, partial, jealous, often illtempered, wrathful, cruel, bloody—is to be worshipped with
sacrifice, the blood of bulls and goats, with costly spectacles
by the priesthood, who sacrifice to him in a special place, at
particular times ; and God gives the most minute directions
‘how all this shall be done, but he is not to be served in any
other way, at any other place.
Such seems to have been the conception of God with the
leading minds of the Hebrews at the beginning of their
national existence, or at the later day when the early books
were deceitfully compiled. Now see how much they outgrew
it a later day.
The highest Old Testament idea of God you find in the
Proverbs and the later Psalms, which were written only four or
- five hundred years after the promulgation of these extraordi
nary documents which I have just quoted. In these God is
represented as all-wise, and always present everywhere. You
all remember that exquisite Psalm, the cxxxixth, “ Whither
shall I go from thy spirit 1 or whither shall I flee from thy
presence ?” There God is unchangeable; his eyes are in every
•place, beholding the evil and the good; no thought can be
withheld from him. What grand and beautiful conceptions of
God are there in Psalms ciii., civ., cvii. ! So in almost the
whole of the admirable collection, which is the prayer book
of Christendom to-day, and will be till some man with greater
poetic genius, united with the tenderest piety, such as poets
seldom feel, shall come, and, in the language of earth, sing the
songs of the Infinite God.
There is a great change also in the manner of worship.
At first it was a mere external act—offering sacrifice, a bull,
a goat, a lamb ; nay, God commands Abraham to sacrifice
Isaac, and the father is about to comply, but the Deity changes
his own mind, and prevents the killing of the boy. Listen
to this from Psalm li., and see what a change there is : “Have
mercy upon me, 0 God, according to thy loving-kindness,
according unto the multitude of thy tender mercies, blot out
my transgressions. Wash me thoroughly from mine iniquity,
and cleanse me from my sin. Create in me a clean heart, O
God ; and renew a right spirit within me. Cast me not away
from thy presence ; and take not thy Holy Spirit from me.
For thou desirest not sacrifice; else would I give it: thou
delightest not in burnt offering. The sacrifices of God are a
broken spirit; a broken and a contrite spirit, 0 God, thou
wilt not despise.”
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�8
THE PROGRESSIVE DEVELOEMENT OF THE CONCEPTION
Look at this from Hosea : “ I desire mercy and not sacri
fice ; and the knowledge of God more than burnt-offering.”
Or this of Micah : “ What doth the Lord require of thee but
to do justly and love mercy, and walk humbly with thy God T
What a progress for the early times! But even to the last
book of the Old Testament there is the same wrath of God.
The world has seen no such cursing as that of the Jews in the
name of Jehovah. Take the cixth Psalm, and I will defy the
hardest of you to wish worse and crueller things than the
author imprecates against his enemies :—“ Set thou a wicked
man over him ; and let Satan stand at his right hand. When
he shall be judged, let him be condemned : and let his prayer
become sin. Let his days be few; and let another take his
place. Let his children be fatherless and his wife a widow.
Let his children be continually vagabonds, and beg : let them
seek their bread also out of their desolate places. Let the
extortioner catch all that he hath ; and let the stranger spoil
his labour. Let there be none to extend mercy unto him ;
neither let there be any to favour his fatherless children. Let
his posterity be cut off, ; and in the generation following let
their name be blotted out. Let the iniquity of his fathers be
remembered with the Lord ; and let not the sin of his mother
be blotted out. Let them be before the Lord continually, that
he may cut off the memory of them from the earth....................
As he clothed himself with cursing like as with a garment, so
let it come into his bowels like water, and like oil into his
bones.”—vs. 6-15, 18. I quote these because they are seldom
read, while the devout and holy portions of the Psalms are
familiar to all men. In Bibles which have laid on the pulpit
for fifty years, and those read in private from generation to
generation, the best parts are worn out with continuous use,
while the evil passages are still fresh and new.
I think no Old Testament Jew ever got beyond this : “ Was
not Esau Jacob’s brother ? saith the Lord : yet I loved Jacob
and hated Esau,” (Mai. i. 2, 3.) A Psalmist speaks of God as
pursuing his enemies with wrath “ like a mighty man that
shouteth by reason of wine.” The Lord God of Israel says to
his people, “ I myself will fight against you with an out
stretched hand, and a strong arm, even in anger, and in fury,
and in great wrath.” “I have set my face against this city for
evil and not for good.” If they do not repent, his “ fury will
go forth like fire, and burn that none can quench it;” and “ this
house shall become a desolation.”
Here is a terrible picture of the Hebrew God, sketched by
the hand of a great master some time after the Babylonian
Captivity. There had been a great battle between the Edo
mites and the Hebrews 1 God comes back as a conqueror, the
�OF GOD IN THE BOOKS OF THE BIBLE. '
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people see him, and the following dialogue takes place :—
People: —Who is this that cometh from Edom ?
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In scarlet garments from Bozrah ?
This that is glorious in his apparel,
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Proud in the greatness of his strength ?
Jehovah :—I that proclaim deliverance,
And am mighty to save.
People : —Wherefore is thine apparel red,
And thy garments like those of one that treadeth the wine vat ?
Jehovah'.—I have trodden the wine-vat alone,
And of the nations there was none with me.
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And I trod them in mine anger,
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And I trampled them in my fury,
So that their life-blood was sprinkled upon my garments,
And I have stained all my apparel.
For the day of vengeance was in my heart—
, ’'
I trod down the nations in my anger;
I crushed them in my fury,
And spilled their blood upon the ground.
*
“ Home-keeping youths have ever homely wits,” says the
proverb; it is not less true of nations than of men. The
religious but idolatrous Jews met a monotheistic people in
their captivity in Babylon, and came back with better ideas.
Yet much of the old theological evil lingered still. Ezra,,
• Nehemiah, and the author of the book of Daniel, devout
men, intensely bigoted, knew only “ the great and dreadful
God;” that is the name the last of them calls Jehovah. But
from the first five books of the Old Testament to the Proverbs
and later Psalms there is great progress.
II. You come to the N ew Testament, and here you do not
find much literary excellence in the writers. Wild flowers of
exquisite beauty spring up around the feet of Jesus ; only in
the Revelation do you find anything which indicates a large
talent for literature, neither the nature which is born in the
man of genius, nor the art which comes from exquisite cul
ture. The Fourth Gospel was writ, apparently, by some
Alexandrian Greek, a man of nice philosophic culture and
fancy. Paul had great power of deductive logic. A grand
poetic imagination appears in that remarkable book, the
Apocalypse. But, taken as a whole, in respect to literary
-art, the New Testament is greatly inferior to the best parts
- of the Apocrypha and Old Testament. It compares with Job,
the Psalms, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ecclesiasticus, and the Wisdom
of Solomon, as the works of the early Quakers compare
with Hooker, Taylor, Herbert, Cudworth, and Milton; and
yet, spite of the lack of culture, literary art, and poetic ■
.genius in the New Testament, as in Fox, Nayler, Penn, and
other early Quakers, there is a spirit not to be found in the
well-born and learned writers who went before.
*Dr. Noyes’s Translation.
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�TO
THE PROGRESSIVE DEVELOPMENT OF THE CONCEPTION
I. In the New Testament, look first at the conception which
Jesus has of God. I shall take it only from the first three
Gospels. In that, according to Matthew, I think we have his
early notion of God. He calls him Father. The same word is
now and then applied to God in the Old Testament, but there I
think it means only Father to the Jews, not to other nations.
But it seems that some of the Greeks and Jews in Jesus’s own
time applied it to him, as if he were the father of all men. As
Jesus makes the Lord’s Prayer out of the litanies which were
current in his time, so he uses the common name for the
Deity in the common sense. With him God alone is good,
and our Father which is in heaven is perfect. “ He maketh
+ his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on
the just and on the unjust.” He pities and forgives the penitent,
as in that remarkable story of the Prodigal Son. With what
tender love does Jesus say, “There is joy in heaven over one sin
ner that repenteth more than over ninety and nine just persons
who need no repentance.” Such noble thoughts come out in
that time as “ shines a good deed in a naughty world.” But
what becomes of the impenitent wicked ? God has no love
for them; they shall go into everlasting punishment. So,
alongside of God there is a Devil, and to the left hand of
heaven there is a dreadful, fiery, endless hell, whither a broad
way leads down, anJ the wide gates stand ever open, and many
there be who go in thereat.
At first Jesus limited his teachings to the Jews ; he would
not take the children’s bread and give it unto the dogs ; he
-declared that not a jot ox jbittle of the Mosaic ceremonial law
should ever fail; he told his disciples to keep all that the
Scribes and Pharisees commanded, because they sat in Moses
seat. But by-and-by he nobly breaks ■with Judaism, violates
the ritual law, puts his new wine jinto new bottles. With
admirable depth of intuitive sight he sums up religion in one
word, Love—Love to God with all the heart, and to one’s
neighbour as himself.
Fear of God seldom appears in
the words of Jesus. Fear is the religion of the Old Testa
ment. Mercy is better than sacrifice. Men go up to heaven
for righteousness and philanthropy, and no question is asked
about creed or form. Other men go down to hell for ungod
liness ; and no straining at a gnat would ever save him who
would swallow down a whole camel of iniquity. Human
literature cannot show a dearer example of tenderness to a
penitent wicked man than you see in the story of the Prodigal
son, which yet the first Evangelist rejected, and two others
left without mention.
All nationality disappears before Jesus. His model man
is a Samaritan. We hear that word commonly used and do
not understand that the Jews hated a Samaritan as the old
�OF GOD IN THE BOOKS OF THE BIBLE.
11
/^rew^England Federalists hated a Jacobin, as the British used
■ I to hate a Frenchman, or as a Southern slaveholder hates a
black Republican to-day. Depend upon it, it created as much
■ A'
sensation amongst men who heard it when Jesus told this story
of the Good Samaritan, as it would in Virginia to have some -!?'a
.
one represent a Negro as superior to all the “first families
of the State, on account of some great charity that he had
done.
■ ' -■?
I do not find that Jesus altered the common idea of God
L V
which he found. He was too intent on practical righteousness
|■■to attend to that. Besides, he was cut off when about thirty
years of age; had he lived longer, it may be that he would
have reformed the popular notion of God ; for there are some
things in the words that drop like honey from his lips which
Eg
to me indicate a religious feeling far beyond his thought.
HL?
2. In the writings of Paul I find more speculation about
God than with Jesus ; for Paul was mainly a theological man,
as Jesus was mainly a pious and philanthropic man. Jesus
could start a great religious movement; Paul could make a
Bfe., ;
theology out of his hints, and found a sect.- But the most
11 important characteristic of Paul’s idea of God is this : God’s
wrath was against all ungodliness in Jew or Gentile, and he
- ,
was as accessible to Gentile as to Jew. Nationality vanishes ;
* all men are one in Christ Jesus; God is God to all, to punish
. '
the wicked and to reward the righteous who have faith in
Christ ; the Jews are as wickedas the rest of mankind, and
are to be equally saved by faith in Christ, and by that alone. .
•; _
Paul’s Christ is not the Jesus of History, but a mythological
. being he conjured up from his own fancy. He says that the
invisible God is clearly made known to the visible material
I ' -5.
world, and conscience announces God’s law to the Gentiles as
effectually as revelation declares it to the Jews. That is a
great improvement on the Old Testament idea of God, as pre
sented even in the Psalms.
3. In the Fourth Gospel and the First Epistle attributed to <
' / <'
John—both incorrectly attributed to him—the idea of God
goes higher than elsewhere in the New Testament. God is
mainly love. He dwells iD the souls of men who love each
'other and love him, and is to be worshipped in spirit and in
truth, not only in Jerusalem, .phut anywhere and everywhere
’V '
Perfect love casteth out fear.
This God has an only-begotten Son, to whom he has given
the Spirit without measure, put all things under his hand >
■
.
he who believes on the Son shall have everlasting lite, but he
who does not believe on the Son shall not see life. Christ’s
.
commandment is that they love one another, and to those God
will give another Comforter, the Spirit of Truth, who shall
abide with believers for ever; nay, Christ will manifest him
self to them.
j.
�12
THE PROGRESSIVE DEVELOPMENT OF THE CONCEPTION^
But this God has created a Devil, who will send all un
believers into endless torment.
Thus ends the last book of the New Testament. What a
change from Genesis to the Fourth Gospel 1 What a
difference between the God who eats veal and fresh bread
with Abraham, and commands him to make a burnt-offering
of his own son, who conveys all Palestine on such a jocular
tenure, and the God whom no man hath seen at any time; who
is Spirit, and has to be worshipped in spirit and in truth ;
who is love, and who dwells with all loving and believing
souls I There are I know not how many hundred years be
tween the two—what a series of revolutions ! what vast pro
gress of mankind had filled up that brief period of time.
But the idea of God which you gather from the Bible is '
quite unsatisfactory to a thoughtful and deeply religious man
to-day. In the Old Testament there is no God who loves the
. Gentiles ; he made the world for the Jews ; all others are only
servants—means, not ends. This being so, the Hebrew
thought himself the only favourite of God ; his patriotism
became immense contempt for all other nations—was a part
of his religion. In the New Testament, the God whom even
Jesus sets before mankind has no love for the wicked ; there
is no Providence forthem ; at the last judgment he sends them
all to hell, bottomless, endless, without hope • their fire dieth
not, their worm is not quenched ; no Lazarus from Abraham’s
bosom will ever give Dives a single drop of water to cool his
tongue, tormented in that flame. Jesus tells of God, also of
the Devil ; of heaven with its eternal blessedness awaiting
every righteous man, and of the eternal torment not less open
and waiting for every one who dies impenitent. Paul narrows
still more this love of God towards men ; it includes only such
as have faith in Christ; no man is to be saved who does not
, believe in Paul’s idea of Christ, The author of the Apocalypse
constricts it still further yet; he would cast out Paul from
heaven ; Paul is called a “ liar,” “ of the Synagogue of
Satan,” and other similar names. The Fourth Gospel limits
salvation to such as believe the author’s theory of Christ, that
he was a God, and the only-begotten Son of God, an idea
which none of the three Evangelists, nor Paul, nor James, nor
Simon Peter, seems ever to have entertained. I think that
Jesus never held such a doctrine as what Paul and the writer
of the Fourth Gospel makes indispensable to salvation.
To the Jews every Gentile seemed an outcast from God’s
providence. To the early followers of Jesus all unbelievers
were also outcasts ; “ he that believeth and is baptised shall
be saved, but he that believeth not shall be damned.” I find
no adequate reason for thinking Jesus ever spoke these words,
found only in the doubtful addition to the second canonical
�OF GOD IN THE BOOKS OF THE BIBLE.
It
yt,
I" ■
13
Gospel. Yet there seems evidence enough to show that Jesus
himself really taught that ghastly doctrine, that a great wickedness unrepented entailed eternal damnation on an immortal
soul. Paul says human love never fails ; he suffers long and is
kind, and yet both he and the man whom he half worshipped
teach that God has no love for the wicked man who dies in his
impenitence; endless misery is his only destination. Neither
in the Old Testament nor in the New do you find the God of
infinite perfection, infinite power, wisdom, justice, love ; it is
always a limited God, a Deity with imperfect wisdom,
justice, love; God with a Devil beside him, the created fiend
getting the victory over his Creator! The Bible doesnot
know that infinite God, who is immanent in the world of
Matter and Man, and also lives in these flowers, in yonder
stars, in every drop of blood in our veins; who works every
where by law, a constant mode of operation of natural power
in Matter and in Man.
It is never the dear God who is re
sponsible for the welfare of all and each, a Father so tender
that he loves the wickedest of men as no mortal mother can
love her only child. Does this surprise you ? When mankind
was a child, he thought as a child, and understood as a child ;
when he becomes a man he will put away childish things.
How full of encouragement is the fact of such a growth in
man’s conception of God, and his mode of serving him ! In
the beginning of Hebrew history, great power, great selfesteem, and great destructiveness are the chief qualities that
men ascribe to god. Abraham would serve him by sacrificing
Isaac; Joshua, a great Hebrew filibuster, by the butchery of
whole nations of men, sparing the cattle, which he might keep
as property, but not the women and children. This was counted
as service of God, and imputed to such marauders for righteous
ness. In the notion of God set forth in the Fourth Gospel and
the First Epistle ascribed to John, it is love which preponde
rates, and by love only are men to serve God. With Jesus
it is only goodness which admits men to the kingdom of
heaven, and there is no question asked as to nation, creed, or
form ; but this sweet benediction is pronounced : “ Inasmuch
as you did it unto the least of these my brethren, ye did it
unto me ;” “ Come ye blessed, inherit the kingdom prepared
for you from the foundation of the world !”
Shall you and I stop where the New Testament did ? We
cannot, if we would, and it is impious to try. What if Moses had
been content with the Egyptian chaos of a deity, “ where every
clove of garlic was.a god ;” what if Jesus had never broke with
the narrow bonds of Judaism ; what if Paul had been content
with “such as were Apostles before him/’ and had stuek at
new moons, circumcision, and other abominations which neither
he nor his fathers were able to bear; where would have been
L|
.-jjB
. <
- ,>
�14
THE PROGRESSIVE DEVELOPMENT OF THE CONCEPTIolw,
OF GOD IN THE BOOKS OF THE BIBLE.
the Christian Church, and where the progress of mankind ?
No, we shall not stop I It would be contrary to the spirit of
Moses, and still more contrary to the spirit of Jesus to attempt
to arrest the theological and religious progress of mankind.
God in Genesis represents the conception of the babyhood of
humanity. Manhood demands a different conception. All
round us lies the world of Matter, this vast world above us
and about us and beneath ; it proclaims the God of Nature ;
flower speaking unto flower; star quiring unto star ; a God
who is resident therein, his law never broken. In us is a World
of Consciousness, and as that mirror is made clearer by civili
zation, I look down, and behold the Natural Idea of God,
infinite Cause and Providence, Father and Mother to all that
are. Into our reverent souls God will come as the morning
light into the bosom of the opening rose. Just in proportion
as we are faithful, we shall be inspired therewith, and shall
frame “ conceptions equal to the soul’s desires,” and then in
our practice keep those “ heights which the soul is competent
to win.”
���Tuesday, February 22nd.—Rev. JAMES MACDONALD.—
“ Unitarianism ; or the Gospel as Christ Taught it.’’
Monday, February 28th.—Rev. JAMES MACDONALD.—
“Unitarian Christianity in Relation to the Bible and
Science.”
Tuesday, March 7th.—GEO. LUCAS, Esq.—“ The Authority of
Scripture—What it is not—What it is.”
Tuesday, March 14th.—Rev. JAMES MACDONALD.—“The
Bible an Inspired, but not an Infallible Book.”
Tuesday, March 21st.—GEO. LUCAS, Esq.—“ Scripture Inter
pretation—The False Method—The True Method.”
Tuesday, March 28th. — Rev. JAMES MACDONALD —
“Religion—The Dogmatic System—The Rational Con
ception.”
Tuesday, April 4th.—GEO. LUCAS, Esq.—“Do we find the
Doctrine of the Trinity, or the Deity of Jesus taught in
the Book of Acts, if we do—where ? If not—why not”
An Open Conference will be held at the close of each of these
Lectures, to which inquirers after religious truth are invited.
The Chair will be taken each evening at 8 o’clock.
February, 14th, ANNUAL CONGREGATIONAL TEA
MEETING.
On Tuesday Evening, February 15th, the Rev. FT. W. Perris (of
Warrington) will Lecture, subject:—
£< JOHN STUART MILL—A Study of Character,”
A Beliglous & Sooial Improvement Glass
IS HELD
EVERY SUNDAY AFTERNOON, in the Chapel,
FROM HALF-PAST TWO TO HALF-PAST THREE.
THE
CLASS
IS
OPEN
TO
THE
PUBLIC.
WEEK EVENING CLASSES as usual on the Wednesday,
Thursday, and Friday.
�The following valuable Books illustrative of Christian Unitarianism
may be purchased from the book stall at the chapel door before
or after the Sunday services, or from the Rev. JAMES
MACDONALD, Elmwood Street:—
Published
at.
Offered,
at.
3/6
3/6
3/6
5/2/6
...
2/2/2/2/1/-
-/6
1/1/2/—
V-
....
-..
-,.
....
.,■ •
-,.
-/6
-/9
-/8
1/9
1/lOd.
Channing’s Complete Works ............................
Channing’s Perfect Life....................................
Bible and Popular Theology. Dr. V. Smith .,
Memoir of the Rev. Theophilus Lindsey, M.A.
Priestley’s History of the Corruptions of 1
Christianity .................................... J
Unitarian Hand-book. Rev. R. Spears...........
John Milton’s Last Thoughts on the Trinity
First Principles in Religion. Rev. J. P. Hopps
Parker’s Matters Pertaining to Religion
Spirit and Word of Christ. Dr. V. Smith ...
Childhood of the World. By E. Clodd, F.R.A.S.
The Church of the First Three Centuries. )
By Dr. Lamson ..................................... J
The Childhood of Religions. By E. Clodd, )
F.R.A.S...................................................... f
The following Lectures may also be obtained at the book stall:
Sympathy of Religions. By T. W. Higginson...............
A Study of Religion. By F. E. Abbot............................
Sin against God. By Professor Newman ...................
Birth and Growth of Myth. By E. Clodd, F.R.A S. ...
Dreams and Ghosts. By Dr. Zerffi.......................... ...
The Origin of the Devil. By Dr. Zerffi..........................
The Vedas and Zendavesta. By Dr. Zerffi.................
Erasmus—His influence on the Reformation. By Elley
Finch.............................................................................
Discipleship with Christ. By Rev. J. Macdonald.
...
Ideal Religion.
Do.
do.
...
British Workman. Part I.
Do.
do.
...
Do.
Part II.
Do.
do.
...
Comparative Religion. By Rev. J. Macdonald ..........
Is Jesus God? Rev. R. R. Suffield
...........................
Light for Bible Readers. Rev. J. P. Hopps...................
Popular Doctrines that obscure the views which the New
Testament gives of God. By Rev. W. Gaskell, M. A.
-/2
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The Unitarian Herald (weekly) price Id., and the Christian
Freeman (monthly) price l|d., are also on sale at the stall.
�
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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 Ethical Society
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The progressive development of the conception of God in the books of the Bible: a sermon delivered at the Pennsylvania yearly meeting of Progressive Friends in the year 1858
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Parker, Theodore
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Place of publication: Sunderland
Collation: [2],14, [2] p. ; 21 cm.
Notes: From the Scottish Unitarian Pulpit, No. III., 1st quarter, 1858. This is the first of four lectures delivered by Parker before the Pennsylvania Progressive Friends. A list of lectures at the Unitarian Chapel, Sunderland listed on preliminary and unnumbered last pages. From the library of Dr Moncure Conway.
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1876
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Bible
Sermons
Unitarianism
Bible
Conway Tracts
Sermons
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“THE WILL OF GOD.”
JL SZEZE^MZOdST,
PREACHED AT THE REV. CHARLES VOYSEY’S SERVICES, ST. GEORGE’S
HALL, LANGHAM PLACE, AUGUST 16th, 1874, BY
*
MR.
HOPE
MONCRI EFF.
The text was taken from Job 13 15., “Though he slay me,
yet will I trust in him ; but I will maintain my own ways
before him.”
He said—Perhaps there is no part of the Bible, at least of
the Old Testament, which at the present day more engages
the attention of thoughtful and feeling men, than the book of
Job. An intense dramatic poem, an undoubted fragment of
antiquity, a true picture of human life, a bold attempt to
grapple with the greatest of problems, an anticipation of the
main speculation of all philosophies, it appeals with equal
force to our profoundest thoughts and to our keenest sympa
thies, annihilating for us time and space, lighting up the far
past, as it were, with an electric flash, and showing us how on
these Eastern plains the same souls were struggling with the
same sorrows that haunt the dwellings of our own prosaic
prosperity.
There is a time of life when such a book has little meaning
for most of us, and we fasten rather on the words of promise
and the hymns of praise, which form a much larger portion
of the sacred literature of the world’s childhood. In youth we
are told most likely that religion will make us happy and
prosperous, and while the sanguine temper of youth remains
with us, we may think it is so, seeing all things in its rosy light
and caring little to dwell on the sterner features of life. By
' and bye the sky grows duller, the wind colder, and, as the
storms of fate burst fiercely upon us, no longer like April
showers that pass away and leave the sunshine more sweet, we
look round for help and shelter, and begin to understand how life
is a pilgrimage, and to ask if anywhere we have anjabiding city.
I am not speaking so much of petty selfish cares, as of the
common sorrows that reveal themselves to generous natures,
though to few of us are these sorrows more than dim and
*In consequence of a misadventure, the Sermon of August 23rd is not printed.
�2
distant shadows, till our own eyes have been purified by tears.
We see the lot of man, how he is born to trouble, how he is cut
down like grass, how his strength is but labour and sorrow,
how his beauty vanisheth like a dream. We see how one
spends his days in wealth, yet in a moment goes down to the
grave; how another dieth in the bitterness of his soul, and
never eateth with pleasure. When we are young th® wicked
flourish before us and leave their substance to their babes ;
and before we are old we see the righteous forsaken and his
seed begging bread. The prayers of young and old seem to
vanish into the silent air. The shadows of the everlasting
hills fall upon our graves ; the stars shine down pitiless upon
our woes ; the sun mocks our short-lived toil, and all we,
great and small, are swallowed up into the darkness and
return no more. Where shall we find peace for the living and
hope for the dead ? How can we rest till we know if there be
aught in which we may trust ?
Such thoughts must come to every man, and come in the
more terrible shapes, in proportion as he is brave and clearseeing and tender of heart. And as our souls have been
nourished on the sickly sweets with which popular religions
too often tempt their votaries from the narrow path of truth,
so now the sweets will turn to bitterness, and with fiercer des
pair we will cry out against our nature and question the
righteousness of God.
This is said to be a. sad age, as how should it not be, when
men perhaps never before so clearly have realized the evils of
existence ? Our greatest living novelist is recognized as a true
representative of her times, painting life as she finds it, and
despising the tinsel with which inferior artists think it
necessary to hide the blots and inequalities of nature. Minds
most in harmony with the spirit of our age no longer relish
the boisterous laugh of Fielding or the complacent smile of
Richardson. Those who find in life nothing but matter and
phenomena, equally with those who see the working of a
Power which perhaps their awe-bound tongues can scarcely
name, find something far other than amusement in stedfastly
regarding the light and shadows that mingle into such mystic
forms. So we turn with new interest to writings like the
book of Job ; and the same feeling is probably the explana
tion of a great development of that form of belief which
centres round one who was a man of sorrows, oppressed and
afflicted through sin.
�3
This temper is partly, no doubt, the natural reaction from
that of a former generation, too confident that Providence
was at last beginning to abolish the conditions of existence,
too proud in its increase of comfort and knowledge and virtue.
But so far from its being caused by any want of religious
feeling, as has also been said, this sadness of its reflective
moods, amid its material prosperity and profusion of pleasures,
is one of the most hopeful signs of our age. Far greater
would be the danger, if it rejoiced to gain these worldly
things, and feared not to lose its own soul!
The truth is that religion does not give what we call happi
ness. The common jewels of the world can be bought cheap,
but if we wish to buy the pearl of great price, we must sell
all that we have. Indeed, we too often care not to seek
treasure in heaven till we have been beggared of our
earthly riches.
“There is no God, the foolish saith,
But none, there is no sorrow ;
And nature oft the prayer of faith
In utmost need must borrow.
Eyes that the preacher hath not schooled
By wayside graves are raised,
And lips say, God be pitiful,
That ne’er said, God be praised.”
The first step on the road of Salvation is to feel our need
of it. The path is rough and thorny, and often we are like to
faint by the way. The rest and-the joy which we have been
promised seem ever further from our reach. If faith were
not strengthened by toil, we should be fain to throw away
our burden, and turn back to the ignoble ease from which
God’s spirit called us forth into the wilderness. There is a
sense in which we must die to life, if we would be born again.
The kings and princes of the earth sit down to banquets of
wine, but the prophets of God mourn in solitude for the sins
of the people. Few are able to drink of the cup of God’s
anointed, or to be baptized with the baptism of the noblest
sons of man. If any will come after me, says such a one, let
him take up his cross and follow me.
So surely this sadness is no unhopeful sign in an age which
has many goods laid up, and might well be tempted to eat
and drink and make merry. I say unhesitatingly that it is
not an utterly selfish age, and that the deepest roots of our
sadness are not in our own sins and sorrows. Well says a
great author, that no wise man’ can enjoy the feast of life
�4
unless he sit at it blindfold. And now the spirit of God is
opening our eyes so that we can no longer be so insensible
as in times past to the welfare of our fellow creatures. Wp
see more plainly the far-reaching consequences of sin, and the
sufferings by which it must be atoned, how there is no salva
tion without shedding the richest blood and the bitterest
tears. Less absorbed in the symptoms of our own maladies, we
feel more intensely the world-long pangs that rend our com
mon nature, and we yearn with a greater desire that all flesh
may be made whole. We find less pleasure and comfort in
our warm and well lighted temples, when we think of the
millions who live and die without in spiritual cold and dark
ness. We take no joy in a God whom we cannot believe to
be the loving Father of all ; and when so many of His children
are wandering and perishing so far off, we may well sorrow
among the riches which we possess so thanklessly and use so
idly. How can we help being sad, if we have eyes to see and
hearts to feel for the evils which have driven so many tender
souls to the madness of disbelief and despair ?
When I speak of the spirit of the age, I speak of its higher
development of moral sense. Far more irreligious is another
tendency of the present day, which is perhaps oftener identi
fied with what is taken for a religious spirit, and which mani
fests itself in a spurious joy and a baseless satisfaction. There
is also among us a strong disposition to varnish over the stern
side of God’s dealings with man, so as to make religion
pleasant and easy as far as possible. There is a disinclination
to say that two and two make four, when it would be so much
nicer if they would make five. A taste for pretty sentiments
and neat dogmas, prevails in certain circles of the religious
world. We see people, perhaps we feel ourselves, trying to
soothe the pangs of natural doubt by spiritual anodynes
which in time must be the death of the soul. We fawn upon
heaven, as it were, and pretend to be thankful for dispensa
tions against which we secretly rebel. The chaos of disjointed
reasoning and foundationless conviction into which most of
our churches have fallen, is permeated by a certain sentiment
of luke-warm good-nature, half selfish and half friendly,
which cannot fail to have a dissolving effect on whatever sound
principles of belief may be left. There is already among some
sects a competition as to which will supply religion cheapest,
giving the greatest feeling of security and moral elevation for
the smallest price of contrition and self-sacrifice. But such
�5
bargains cannot be sound. In nature, as’in honest trade, we
get the worth of what we give, neither more nor less. It is
all very well for the mean soul that knows not the cravings
of heavenly hunger, yet is not unwilling to patronize a
fashionable and inexpensive luxury, and thinks to make the
best of both worlds, by purchasing the countless riches of the
one with a poor tithe of our beloved ■ gold. But the truly
awakened heart cannot be satisfied thus. It will give the
whole world to gain the truth, whether the truth be agreeable
or no. Its meat and drink is to do God’s will; its labour to
learn His ways. It is at once humble towards heaven and
upright towards itself. It bows before God, but for very
reverence, will not do violence to the reason and conscience
which bear witness of Him. Such a spirit may trouble the
brightness of the idle hours of life ; but only such a spirit is
blessed in struggling with the secrets of the darkness.
This careless way of looking at evil is generally the mark
of a slavish temper, in which light-hearted buffoonery alter
nates with abject crouching before a cruel power. See how
our sectarian religionists try to propitiate their Maker by
falsehoods against the moral nature which He has placed in
them, and no less labour to silence the higher promptings of
that nature by the pursuit of pleasures which are only the
more deadly when they take the form of religious excitement.
Compare this spirit with that in which Job met
his troubles. No blinking at the sad realities of life ;
in such a case as his, we cannot shut our eyes and say peace
when there is no peace, and talk of light when all around us
is darkness. Yet no craven whining, no unmanly humility.
He. acknowledged the power of the Almighty, but he would
maintain his ways before Him. He durst not commit moral
suicide. He knew that only the soul which reverences itself
can reverence its Maker. He only asked to see Him and to
learn the ways of His love; against all seeming he would
trust that God was not more cruel than himself. “ Will he
plead against me with his great power ? No; but he would
put strength in me.” Thus spoke Job in the confidence of
his own human righteousness, and this true faith was blessed,
so that he could say, “ I have heard of Thee by the hearing
of the ear, but now mine eye seeth Thee.”
Remember how dark to this man was the world beyond the
grave. .Only in momentary flashes inspiration, if at all,
was it lit up for him. I have been treating this book as an
�6
English poem; but the meaning of the original is often
obscure and the received rendering of some of the best known
passages is more than questionable; our text, for example,
probably owes the nobleness of its sentiment mainly to the
translator, and the celebrated verse “ I know that my
Redeemer liveth,” has no more authority from the Hebrew
than “Search ye the Scriptures” has from the Greek.
Think, then, of the faith which so lifted up its hands in the
darkness and sought to feel the everlasting arms. Think,
too, of these heathen men of old, to whom Heaven had not
spoken so clearly as to us, who enjoyed this earthly life with
a keenness which we can scarcely realize, but who may yet
put us to shame by the courage with which they faced what
ever they knew of doubt and dread, finding in this courage
some dim hint of the divine strength.
Think of the
philosophers who strove to ascend into the highest heaven, as
well as to descend into the deeper hell of nature, and were not
seldom rewarded by glimpses of the unknown God. Think
of the poets who brought the direst forces of life upon the
stage, and, tracing sin and suffering as far as man’s eye can
reach, heard notes of triumph mingling in the funeral hymns.
Does the half unconscious faith of these men not rebuke us
in our too common moods of sluggish ease, which avenging
nature so surely alternates with fever fits of unrest and long
hours of hopeless despondency !
Have we no hopes which were hid from these men ? The
elevation of our moral vision, our new yearning to see God
revealed as a faithful Creator, the more unselfish prayers with
which we entreat Him that all the world may be saved—what
are these but pledges of our salvation. ' As Job’s own
integrity was to him the guarantee of God’s justice, so our
pity may give us good assurance of his infinite mercy.
Because we love, He must love, as because He lives, we shall
live also. What though God’s face seem to be hidden from
us; what though we feel the power of the enemies of man
kind, our trial is a triumph if we have still strength to bless
the name of Him who afflicts us, and by our struggling faith
do bear witness to His nature, in whose image we are made !
If we could only have faith I If we could only give up
these anxieties as to our fate and commit ourselves into the
hands of God, trusting that the Maker and Judge and
Father of all the earth will do right to every soul that he has
created. I do not speak of that selfish stunted faith which
�declares it will be well with us, though not with others, and
would explain away the horrors of such a creed by suggesting
that love and justice mean one thing on earth and another in
Heaven. To me this makes the riddle of life only more dark
and more cruel. It kills my last hope. It mocks all my
desires. I know nothing of goodness except through God,
and nothing of God except through man’s goodness. And
I am amazed—even though it was once my own case—
at the language of those men, who tell us that salvation is
only promised to a part or a minority of mankind, and almost
in the same breath exhort us to praise , the name of the Lord
who has so willed it, and to rejoice and be glad in His works.
Far more natural and more noble the mood in which,
like Job, we desire to reason with the Almighty, and would
speak even to God of the miseries which He suffers to endure.
I hope, on another occasion, to make it abundantly clear
that I am not advocating asceticism or putting spiritual
megrims in place of true health. I am simply dwelling on
the serious facts of life, and reminding you that there can be
no solid comfort for us till we have looked them in the face
and seen the worst of them. Deep and dark are the shadows
that fall ever across our most sunny paths. Careless jester
and cold cynic have in vain tried to laugh or sneer them
away; scarcely less in vain have heathen philosopher and
Christian saint striven to tear down the veil that wraps the
eternal will of God. When all words of hope and comfort
are spoken, there remains a trial and a mystery, before which
the best and the wisest may well shrink and tremble. There
are moments in all our lives when the flesh seems to fail us,
and there appears no help for our need. No words of ours can
dry the widow’s tears or bring back the father’s first-born dead.
Only time heals such wounds—time and God’s mercy; is it
no other than His mercy which opens them afresh ?
I cannot explain this mystery to you—I speak as for myself
because I can speak no otherwise. Each one must wrestle
for himself with God’s power, who would learn the secrets of
His will. Each one must bear his own burden to the shore
of the dark river beyond which we think to hear snatches of
the angels’ songs, and in dreams to see the spotless streets of
our Father’s home. But this, at least, we may all see and
take courage—that the Lord loves whom he chastens, and
that He gives no richer gift to man than this sorrow which
drives us to our knees.
�Do you see that mountain side where green vineyards
seem to mirror back the glad sunshine ? Once, there, the red
lava rolled in scorching torrents, and the smoke of destruction
hid all the heaven with clouds of terror. Then came long
years of silence and desolation, when we trod on crumbling
ashes and colourless fields of dust. But nature put forth her
healing power and blessed that which was barren, so that
now all is fairer than before, and trees good for the food of
man take deep root and find rich sustenance in this troubled
soil, and sweet flowers smile in the crannies that once poured
forth such foul flames and such bitter streams.
Even so, are God’s ways not like man’s ways. He gives
sorrow in love, and in mercy He denies us joy. The fiercest
storms which he sends on earth leave the seeds "of peace and
plenty behind. The heartless, the careless, the dwellers at
ease, cry out in woeful agony when these storms burst upon
them, and curse God among their ruined pleasures, and
scattered riches. But the most weather-beaten souls are of
good courage, for they tell us that the nearer they come to
the darkness, the surer they are that the fight of love is
behind it, that from the deepest sorrow they are borne to the
highest heights of faith; that when human health fails them,
and tears drown the voice of human strength, then they are
most enabled to praise the will of Eternal Goodness and to
trust in Him, even at the gates of death.
Carter & Wtt.t.tams, General Steam Printers, 14, Bishopsgate Avenue, Camomile-street, E.C.
�
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A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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The will of God: a sermon, preached at the Rev. Charles Voysey's services, St George's Hall, Langham Place, August 16th, 1874
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Hope Moncrieff, A. R.
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Place of publication: [London]
Collation: 8 p. ; 19 cm.
Notes: Part of Morris Miscellaneous Tracts 6. An endnote on the title page: 'In consequence of a misadventure, the Sermon of August 23rd is not printed.'
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Morris Tracts
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THE INFLUENCE OF HOME.
_A_ SZEZEdZMZOIbT,
PREACHED AT
ST. GEORGE’S HALL, LANGHAM
PLACE, SEPTEMBER 13, 1874, BY THE
BEV.
CHARLES
VOYSEY.
The text was taken from 2 Corinthians xiii, 11, “ Be perfect
be of good comfort, be of one mind, live in peace, and the God
of love and peace shall be with you.”
He said—We are all familiar with the idea of the sacredness of
sorrow ; from our youth up, preachers and moralists have instilled
into us that chastisement is good for us, and that afflictions are
but blessings in disguise ; as we grew older we learnt this holy
lesson for ourselves, though, perhaps, by slow degrees and with
much rebellion and unbelief. Far be it from me to throw this
teaching into the shade, or to underrate the magnificence of this
triumph of the human heart over its troubles. Yet I think we
have, in our eagerness to give or to gain consolation, suffered
another equally valuable lesson to drop out of our recognition.
W& have not made enough of the sacredness of joy. We have
not recovered from the depressing influences of the Puritanism of
our forefathers, and, in all matters pertaining to religion and
morals, the severity of discipline by sorrow has not only had its
due prominence, but has been allowed to monopolize our regard
and to appear as the sole agency in the culture of our characters.
Man, in his usual extravagance, has cherished a tacit belief that
because sorrow is a necessary blessing therefore joy is either
unnecessary or unwholesome. Or, perhaps, it is because the
pursuit of happiness is never likely to flag, whereas we are ever by
nature striving to avoid pain, that happiness has needed no recom--
�0
mendation, is considered to be amply provided for, and, if only
tolerated by preachers, the less said about it the better. I think
the sacredness of joy has been overlooked, and by the term
“ sscredness,” as applied to joy, I mean exactly the same as when
it is applied to sorrow. Just as sorrow is found to be beneficial
to the soul, in purifying, elevating and expanding its noblest
powers, so joy has a like beneficial effect, and is capable of doing
wonders in the improvement of character. True joy is therefore
as solemn and sacred as Heaven-sent affliction. Both are needful,
as the day for labour and the night for rest. Both are indispens
able to the proper development of human nature, and both should
be recognized by moralists and religious teachers as equally
important, equally sacred.
I wish this morning, after my long absence from you, to
say a little of what is in my heart about the joys of home.
Nearly all of us have a home, and most of us, it is to be
hoped, can call theirs a happy one; but I wonder how many
of us have ever thought seriously about our home as the real
school-house of our characters, and as the mould in which our lives
are cast ? How many of us are there who pay more heed to the
fact of enjoying a happy home than to the fact of the daily rising
sun? To very many, and especially to the young, the one is just
as much a matter of course as the other. Years and years roll by,
and they do not fully realize the priceless blessings of home until
they have lost it. In the turn of events they are forced to go
forth into the world and dwell among strangers, and to make a
new home for themselves ; and then all at once they wake up to
know how much they had so long unconciously enjoyed, and what
they have now lost—perhaps for ever. And so it is with many of
us elder ones ; we live on in the same smooth tenour of oui* way
enjoying daily without reflection a thousand tender offerings of
affection, till we get so accustomed to the things which make up our
life’s happiness as to take them for granted, and forget altogether
with how much toil and sacrifice they have been supplied. But all
at once some stroke of misfortune descends, some sore bereavement
�3
or calamity worse than death stirs us from our easy and blind satis
faction, and makes us realize what our home has really been to us,
and what holy and faithful services had made it so happy.
Misfortune without, or the attack of unfriendly criticism, will
often have the same effect. The blow which hurts one member
shakes with electric shock all the rest, and so reveals the sacred
and delicate bond which binds the family in one. The sympathy
and help which are thus simultaneously awakened bring home to
every heart the reality of that domestic love which all along had
been giving them so much unconscious joy.
And so too, but in a less degree perhaps, is domestic love
revealed by temporary separation. Members of one family do not
know how much they love one another until they have been
divided. Then one by one the little endearments are missed, the
old loving looks of affection and sympathy are thirsted for, and the
severed ones become conscious how much of the pleasure of their
lives was due to each others’ daily intercourse. Change of scene
however interesting, change of occupation however pleasant,
hospitality and kindness of friends however generous—all these
fail to supply the joys that we left behind, or to fill the void in our
breasts which is akin to pain. No personal comforts, not the best
and most devoted of friends can take the place of the dear ones
who are absent. Their memory is sweet to us; our rising thought
in early dawn is of them and their welfare ; our last prayer before
our eyes are closed is that they may be safe and happy. In the
midst of our most refreshing recreations we wish they were with
us to share them ; and if the slightest shadow of ill tidings reach
us, we long to be back again to comfort and protect them. We
learn in separation the intensity of our love, and begin to see how
much more we owe to each other than we had ever dreamed. Ard
so the return home is a sensation of exceeding joy. We wait for
it as shipwrecked men wait for the dawn; we count the days and
hours which must intervene, as poor school-boys do when the
holidays draw near. We picture the scene in our vivid imaginetions, calling up the vision of each smiling face as it greets us
�4
on the threshold, and wondering with a trembling heart what
good or bad reports we may have to hear.
Coming home is a most solemn joy. It is a holy sacrament to
all who have a home—and not a mere dwelling-place—to come to.
In all our experience there is nothing so religious, so exquisite;
nothing which brings God so near to us, nothing which so completely
wipes out dark memories, fills the soul with holy resolutions, or
gives such foretaste of the peace and rest of Heaven.
We know and feel at such moments, though we cannot put it
into words, that God Hiipself could not give us greater joy on
earth than this, that our cup of happiness is full and running over,
and that our hearts are bursting with grateful delight. We feel
that God Himself is with us rejoicing in our joy, and delighting
in giving such bliss to his children. Such mercies knit our hearts
to Him, and help us to love His blessed will, and be ready to give
up all we love best at His bidding.
And if religious emotion in its highest degree involve the
penitent recollection of past misdeeds, and the pious resolve to
amend our lives, what more fitting and natural opportunity for
such feelings than this can there be ?
Across the mind there sweeps a sorrowful thought of shame, and
almost wonder, that any unjust or unkind word should ever have
been spoken amongst us, much more any unkind deed done; and
this spasm of godly sorrow is instantly followed by a flood of holy
impulse to rule our lives by love, never to wrong each other by
word or deed, but to help, comfort, and defend one another while
life shall last. And this high resolve, not made on bended knee,
or with tearful eye, but springing out of a joy too great for words,
is propped up on all sides by hope—by hope which tells that there
is an inexhaustible fountain of mutual love from which to draw,
the depth of which we had not fathomed. We can thus promise
to be good to each othei, for love will make it easy. And this is
one of the most prominent and most natural results of true joy.
It gives a sense of perfect peace with God and trust in His blessed
will; it makes the heart shrink from its own iniquity, it fills it
with holy desire to be utterly good, and turns the desire for
�5
improvement into a promise of success by revealing love as the
basis of hope.
Away then with the foolish and unnecessary creeds ! As if
God had not created the family ties, and consecrated domestic
duties and troubles and joys on purpose to teach us all the religion
and morality that we ever wanted I What do we want with altars
for offerings and burnt sacrifices, for incense and wafers, when in
every temple of home there is a fireside—a sacred hearth—where
daily and hourly offerings of love and duty may be laid. What
need have we for religious rites and ceremonies to please God or
benefit our souls, when home-life abounds with opportunities for
the holiest services, and the sacraments of love may be partaken
of every day.
I do not wish to be hard upon the Christian Sacraments or any
other ceremony that may help feeble souls. But I do wonder that
men should have gone out of their way to seek for God, should
have hunted in the burning sands of the parched wilderness for
the living streams of His bounty, should have invented elaborate
devices for il pleasing Him ” when all He asks of us is to love one
another; or should have wasted their wits and their toil to culti
vate piety and holiness, when the Divine method of becoming
pious and holy lies straight before them, and has been mercifully
appointed as the common lot of mankind.
To return to the more special subject of my discourse, if such
joy is holy and elevating, it follows that the happier we can make
our own homes the better shall we be.
And by happiness, of course I do not mean the mere piling up
of earthly comforts or luxuries, the acquisition of wealth or the
realization of ambitious hopes ; but such peace of mind and pleasure
in life as grows out of being loved and loving in return. In this
sense, I believe many faults would be cured and we ourselves
made infinitely more useful to the world outside, if we were to
make each other happier at home, if there were more love and
more determination not to wound or vex anyone around us. The
effect of dwelling in an atmosphere uncongenial, where sympathy
�6
is absent oi' scanty; where criticism is plentiful and sharp; where
fault-findings outnumber the encouragements; where one
error will obliterate many right actions; where cold hard duty,
precious as that is, is made a substitute for affectionate interest;
and where correctness is worshipped at the expense of generosity—
the effect of dwelling in such an atmosphere, I say, is to wither
the heart and to harden the manners, to lose a friend if not to
make a foe. No husband or wife, parent or child, brother or sister,
master, mistress or servant can hold ground in nobleness of
character unless fostered by the warm sunshine of a loving inter
course. To make the best of anyone, we must begin with extreme
kindness, and if possible, by loving him. If we do not, we shall never
see any but the worst side of his nature, unless it be too noble to
be concealed or disguised. Begin by detraction and discourage
ment, and the sorrow of the heart so oppressed will probably
make it unworthy and drive it to baseness. Well may we say to
each other what the Psalmist said to God. “ If thou wilt be
extreme to mark what is done amiss, O Lord who can abide it ?”
Yet, if we only make clear our loving purpose to make each other
as happy as we can, oh ! how bearable then are each other’s failings
and defects, how easily we can put up with weak tempers and
hasty words, as well as broken promises and neglected duties ! We
all have to fall back now and then on the loyalty of affection
which is at the bottom of each other’s hearts; and if that be
wanting, the superstructure of smiles and pleasant faces and pretty
speeches are only a frightful mockery, making the void within more
hollow and the soul’s insight more ghastly. Let people differ and
wrangle sometimes, it is comparatively a trifle, if only they love
one another at heart. If they do not and they are compelled to
live together, God have mercy on them ! They need the pity of
Heaven !
But have we no other words for those who have no home—or
whose home is poisoned by the serpent of strife—no words but of
pity and sorrow. Yes, I think Love has words of hope for all—
even for the most hopeless.
What are called incompatibility of temper, sourness of disposi
tion, provoking habits and all the terrible list of reasons why
people separate and why homes are either ruined or broken up, are
not all incapable of cure. They who say there is no cure are those
who have not had the patience to try, nor have the fortitude to
�7
take up a course of conduct for which instead of thanks they
expect only fresh insult.
Where real love is not forthcoming, there still remains the
moral power of self-control and the determination at least to behave
well to each other. Let all persons who are in the unhappy
position of living in a home without mutual love try the experi
ment of doing the best they can for each other, of striving to avoid
giving offence, of schooling themselves into actions and words of
kindness. If no other happy result should follow, at least this
course is sure to preserve domestic peace; and in nine cases out of
ten it will do ever so much more. By slow degrees unwearied
kindness and patience and forgiveness beget gratitude and go far
to create an affection that is absent, or to restore one that is lost.
Love is the offspring of pure kindness, quits as often as kindness
is the offspring of Love. And so I would urge upon the unhappy
that it is never too late to mend, never too late to ameliorate their
own condition, if only they will go the right way to work and seek
the happiness of those around them first.
For in this also the principle holds good that joy is purifying
and elevating. Make any man or woman less miserable, add ever
so little to his or her happiness and the fruit of a better life will
soon shew itself.
And lastly I would say a few words to those who by inevitable
circumstance are banished from home and have to dwell alone or
among strangers. God only knows what some very tender and
warm hearts suffer in the freezing atmosphere of unfamiliar faces
and ungenial associates. But even for them there is left one
blessing—and that God’s best blessing—the power of winning love
and making a home for themselves out of the foreign elements
around them.
As every home is only Home when love reigns in it, so the
veriest desert may become a garden if we do our part in the
culture of the affections. Let anyone, however in other respects
deficient in winning others, if only rich in kindness and manifest
self-devotion, do his or her best for the comfort and peace of those
who come in daily contact, and the strange faces will grow
familiar and pleasant, hearts that seemed shut up to themselves
and to only a few favoured ones will expand first with gratitude,
then with esteem, and lastly with real friendship and love.
�8
Governesses and tutors and servants, even boarders and lodgers
can furnish a whole literature of this divine conquest of the human
heart over the seemingly stony natures with which it is forced to
dwell. Commanders of vessels, leaders of regiments, superintend
ing engineers, a hundred times over have told the tale of their
making a happy home for themselves out of the wealth of love and
human feeling which they carried in their own breasts. If the
ties have not been so tender, so spontaneous, so deep, as those
wherewith God has blessed us in our natural domestic relations,
still they have been strong and warm and have shewn their
heavenly virtue in mutual self-sacrifice and in splendid heroism.
And surely no public work, no reformation, no patriotism can
be compared for a moment with the glory of that triumph over
the hearts of men.
More and more do I feel the solemn importance of being first in
our own homes what we desire to be before the world. Nothing
to me is more certain than that the ultimate test by which we and
our work will be judged is the manner in which we live at home.
If that will bear the scrutiny of the best and wisest and kindest
among men, we need fear no failure in our philanthropic efforts in
the world around us. But if our homes are darkened by strife or
poisoned by impurity, the best among men will turn their backs
upon our principles however sound, will revolt from our teaching
however reasonable, and will point scornfully at our huge incon
sistency, crying, “ By their fruits ye shall know them.”
Let us prize as our most precious gift—even above all faith and
hope—the joy of a happy home. Let that be our sheet-anchor;
let that be the shrine to defend which we will pour out our life’s
blood to the last drop. Let us banish for ever the idea that it is
other people’s business to make us happy ; and instead of that, let
us each one say to himself “ my one duty is, and it shall be my
chief concern, to make everyone around me as happy as I can.
If we but live in this spirit, we shall have lived for the greatest
human glory, and we may add too, for the honour and glory of God;
and our rewai’d will be—what no wealth or luxuries can furnish
the confidence and love of all around us. God Himself can give
no more I
Garter & Williams, General Steam Printers, 14, Bishopsgate Avenue, Camomile-street, E.C
�
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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 influence of home: a sermon, preached at St. George's Hall, Langham Place, September 13, 1874
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Voysey, Charles [1828-1912.]
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Place of publication: London
Collation: 8 p. ; 19 cm.
Notes: Part of Morris Miscellaneous Tracts 6.
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[Carter & Williams]
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1874
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Religion
Sermons
Home
Morris Tracts
Religion
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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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 Ethical Society
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Dedicatory services of the Parker Memorial Meeting House by the twenty-eighth Congregational Society, of Boston, Sunday, Sept,21, 1873
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Conway, Moncure Daniel [1832-1907.]
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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.
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1873
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Conway Tracts
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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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Victorian Blogging
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2018
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Conway Hall Ethical Society
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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.'
Publisher
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Thomas Scott; R.D. Webb
Date
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[1871]
Identifier
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G5462
Subject
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Jesus Christ
Faith
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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 (The collapse of the faith: or, the deity of Christ as now taught by the orthodox), identified by </span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk"><span>Humanist Library and Archives</span></a><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span>
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application/pdf
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Text
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English
Atonement
Belief and Doubt
Conway Tracts
Jesus Christ
Sermons
-
https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/25778/archive/files/94ab6b5eac86d089d398cd60122b0628.pdf?Expires=1712793600&Signature=BCgKw%7EOLl8%7EZrexg3o5-vWYVGdzYKGLOk8senPz3wXm41E%7Exu-XIoXkCuHmX%7EPbdpwSEryPthc7GtjsdyLZZdg3vl-orBFOBqxxKwxkOWQCHOfaMQ%7EVnwb67nAom9i18oFyh6%7ElMc0FxQ%7E%7EnW3Nt5z-QlVfvwn2Wt0YDBeAQW9QQHpg5zJDjjj5AzEuC2Ls0izibZJioL0Mg1jGlbbROyA%7E-7oErRsyLXXIl7VzMSjFrPcXVZWkj1DI7LxW5wx0kKZSDD-N4EfgtTTzXCEV9%7EZ8XAnUq9fO3YmnsONYmJWDzuml306-%7EgjO1nv4%7E8fZ%7ErrkE8J-cQnfL3L-SMSCNzw__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM
d7e23cac0ca3418dc20f7f497a24a531
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Text
“NOTHING BUT LEAVES.”*
BY REV. E. S. ATWOOD, SALEM, MASS.
A leaf is one of tlie most beautiful and
wonderful objects in nature. It fulfils the
double mission of grace and use. Just what
the lungs are to man and animals, that the
leaves are to the trees and shrubs. Vegeta
ble equally with animal life depends upon and
progresses by processes of respiration. We
loosen and fertilize the soil about the roots of
the tree, in order to push on its growth; yet,
with all our pains, we do but a small part of
the work. The silent leaves above us, open
ing a thousand mouths on every branch, are
the great feeders of fertility. All the day
long, under the quickening chemistry of light
and heat, they eliminate and breathe in the
e Preached on board the steamship “William Penn;”
copied by Stephen Massett; publicly read by him on
board the steamship “ China ” on her first voyage from
San Francisco to Yokohama, Japan ; and then printed at
the office of the “China Mail,” Hong-Kong
�2
“NOTHING BUT ’LEAVES.”
healthy oxygen from the air, that vitalizes
the sap, and spreads beauty and strength to
every fibre and cell—and all the night they
breathe out the waste and refuse carbon.
Tender and fragile as they are, veined more
delicately than an infant’s hand, seeming to
cling so timidly to bough and twig; yet with
out them trunk and branch would wither and
stand the dreary skeletons of the life that
had perished. But over and above their pur
poses of use, what grace and goodliness they
give to nature, what marvellous varieties of
form and size and shade they exliibit! Look
at them in spring time, when they are coming
out timidly one by one; in that fresh exquis
ite green attire, quickening the throbbings
of every heart with their hints of life. Look
at them in the thick-leaved splendor of June,
when, massed and matted, they darken the
ground with their cool and grateful shadow;
or watch them hi autumn, when frost and
ripeness fire the trees, and they flame gor/ geous illuminations to swell the splendor of
/ the triumphant march of harvest; and in all
/
their shifting phases alike they rejoice the
/
eyes, and give warmth and color to the most
!
■ unimpressive nature.
�“NOTHING BUT LEAVES.”
3
Yet the leaves of a tree once called forth
the condemnation and the. curse of Christ.
Matt. 21:19. Walking with his disciples, he
saw at a distance a fig-tree. In tropical
countries, the broad and luxuriant foliage of
this tree makes it a notable object in the
landscape. Weary and faint, they hastened
towards it, and stood under its shade; be
neath its spreading branches they found shel
ter from the burning heat. Had it been dry
and leafless, he would have passed it by; but
standing there full clothed in the splendor of
Syrian summer, every bough quick with life,
the processes of growth pushing on—because
of its very appearance and seeming perfect
ness he cursed it, so that presently it withered
away.
Because he found thereonnothing but
leaves!” Men plant fr.uit trees, not for /bh'age, but for fruit. A leaf is not the last and
highest result of growth, but only an interme
diate product of the process, meant to be a
help to the perfect consummation. It was
food that Christ was seeking, and not shade.
It was high time that it should be found. The
fig appears before the leaf. That such a tree
should be barren at such a season was sure
�4
“NOTHING BUT LEAVES.”
proof that it was a failure, so far as the high
est end of its existence was concerned; and
so, though it stood out & thing of beauty,
broad branched, thick leaved, still because it
bore “nothing but leaves,” Christ condemned
it, that it might be a type and warning to
generations to come, that lack of fruit-bear
ing is a sin against God, however attractive
or promising a profession and life may be.
And yet how many systems of faith and
practice, accepted by multitudes and com
mended with unmeasured praise, after all
bear “nothing but leaves.” Every thought
ful man admits the legitimacy of this test of
fruitfulness. He has no hope that a barren
theory will win its way in the world. He
hastens to show, when he urges liis scheme
upon you, wliat it has done and what it can
do. We judge of systems as we do of seeds,
which will give us the fullest ears and the
most abundant harvests. But men often fail
to discriminate clearly between leaf and fruit.
It is contended sometimes by the advocates
of an amended gospel and a liberal creed,
that the forth-puttings of that system are its
all-sufficient verification. We are pointed to
the eloquent orators, the elegant scholars, the
�“NOTHING BUT LEAVES.’
5
graceful poets it produces. But. eloquence
and scholarship and poetry are “nothing but
leaves.” Holiness of heart is the true fruit
of a real gospel; the clusters ripened by the
grace of God hang higher than the growths
of intellect.
We are pointed to the earnest sympathy
with man fostered by this genial faith, to its
varied philanthropic schemes for the better
ment of the laboring classes, for the reclama
tion of the vicious, for the rescue of the down
trodden and oppressed; but all these things,
worthy as they are, are in comparison “noth
ing but leaves.” The ripe fruit of genuine
spiritual faith is salvation—a power that not
merely ministers to bodily necessities or con
strains to outw ard proprieties of conduct, but
a power that goes deeper and does more
thorough work—that purifies and renovates
and sanctifies the soul. All else but this is
as nothing. To mature this royal harvest the
councils of eternity were set. For this, proph
et and apostle were anointed with Chrism di
vine. For this, Jesus wept and suffered and
died. For this, the Holy Ghost, the Com
forter, came, and conies and strives. For this,
all powers of holy growth for ever struggle;
�G
“NOTHING BUT LEAVES.”
and any system, however great its triumphs
in other directions, that cannot show regen
erate souls as its fruits, let it boast as it may,
its best results are “nothing but leaves.”
It is with the single soul, however, that this
truth has the most to do; it has an eminently
practical bearing on the individual well-being.
Let every man take such care of himself that
he shall be genuinely fruitful, and it matters
little about systems. And this is the great
end of our creation. God has put you and me
into this world, not to amass fortunes, not to
win great names, not to live easily and pleas
antly, with as little trouble as possible, but
to glorify him; and “herein is my Father
glorified, that ye bear much fruit.” And yet
most men drive on, as if the great object in
life was to bear “nothing but leaves”—to en
large one’s social influence, to reach a higher
social position, to multiply possessions. For
things like these nine-tenths of human energy
is expended. We are more anxious about the
quantity than the quality of our growth; we
forget the one set purpose of our life. There
are but few v*ho so seclude themselves from
the thrill and stir of the great multitude, that
they hear with distinctness God’s message to
�“NOTHING BUT LEAVES.”
7
their souls. We live in a thronged and
busy world. We breathe its feverish air;
we catch the contagion of its enthusiasms
and hopes. We look at its prizes through
the bewildering glare of sense. We wish not
strangely, to be and do as other men, and so
we forget that, in spite of the clamor and roar
that fill the spiritual ear, a voice is sounding
all the day, “ Son—daughter, go work in my
vineyard.” The great end of life is mistaken,
the povrers and possibilities given for holy and
lasting use are employed in unworthy ways
and for inferior ends, and we come to the end
of our years, be they many or few, to find
at the last, and too late, that all our toilsome
probation has borne for us “nothing but
leaves.”
It is of the first importance, therefore, for
the wise conduct of life, that a man should
recognize his true mission as a fruit-bearer.
It is essential to economical and successful
labor that the task should be accurately de
fined. Half the -work in the world is wasted,
because men strike at hap-hazard. They
have no specific aim, only a vague and gen
eral desire to “get on.” The great apostle
gave the rule of success in any direction when
�8
NOTHING BUT LEAVES.”
lie said, “I so ran, not as uncertainly; so figlit
I, not as one who beateth the air.” Thrust a
magnet into a heap of metallic particles, and
at once they assume set and crystalline forms.
And distinctness of purpose has a magnetic
power. It brings into proper position and
play every force that can bear upon the end.
to be obtained. It utilizes latent energies,
and originates combinations of powers, and
works every thing at full pressure, and with
all the might of an unconquerable will presses
on to triumph.
Witness in proof of this the methods in
which men of the world win their victories.
Let a man make up his mind, like Girard, to
be rich, and see how that determination works
for him. Every thing else is held subordinate
to that end. Body and soul become mere
slaves to that over-mastering purpose. Hun
ger presses him, but he will not yield to appe
tite any further than is needful to get strength
to make money. Pleasure woos him, but he
turns away from all its enchantments; there
is no “money” to be made by self-gratifica
tion. Taste urges its claim, but it cannot be
heeded, for it takes instead of makes money
to satisfy it. He walks abroad, but it is not
�“NOTHING BUT LEAVES.
9
to breathe the sweet air, nor gladden the eyes
with the wonders of a world of beauty, but
only to see where some new “dollar” may be
found. Every thing he is, or has, or does
strains towards the same end; and that pas
sionate enthusiasm, laughing at obstacles,
presses on till it grasps the prize for which it
has dared and done all. There is no power
like the might of a great determination.
Nothing less than Divine can match it. When
a thousand wires are welded into one, they
forge The Damascus steel, that can divide the
gossamer or cut the iron bar asunder; and
when all the energies of a man are molten
into one force by the potent heat of purpose,
they shape a blade invincible by aught but
the flashing sword of Almightiness.
Let a man then live, first and most of all,
from the thought that his work in the world
is to bring forth fruit to the honor and glory
of God: that whatever else is left undone,
Z/u's must l)c done; that however promising a
project, it is to be rejected if it interferes with
the sovereign purpose. Let a man live so,
and spiritual success is sure. For whatever
power determination has in other departments,
it is intensified in this. By special aids God
�10
“NOTHING BUT LEAVES.”
speeds tlie purpose of righteousness to fulfil
ment. The best laid human schemes some
times miscarry by reason of perils and hinderances that no man could foresee. But along
the track we travel to do thy will, O God, there
are no hidden reefs to wreck our ships, no bil
lows to engulf them, no tempests to beat them
back. The earnest soul journeys along a safe
and sure highway, over which “ the ransomed
of the Lord come to Mount Zion with songs,
and everlasting joy upon their heads.”
If you and I, then, are so conscious of our
high vocation, and so faithful, that we make
this determination the supreme law of life,
we may reasonably expect that our labor will
ripen abundant fruit. Not necessarily marvels
of growth. It is a vice of human nature that
it cannot be satisfied unless it can do some
tconderftil thing. Every man sets out to be a
great man, but very few get much farther
than the start.
This spirit besets us from the earliest years.
The child poring over the wonderful romances
that form the mental food of his first days,
longs for the time when he shall go out to
slay giants and capture castles. The youth
looks contemptuously upon the routine of
�“NOTHING BUT LEAVES.
11
daily life as too commonplace for his abilities;
and as men get on to maturer years, do they
quite forget to build castles in the clouds,
whose splendor puts to shame the common
walls in which they live and work ? The de
sire is all well in its way, but the trouble is,
it keeps us dreaming when wTe should be
working, and too often makes us discontented
and disheartened, forgetting that God gives
to the seeds of faithful endeavor we sow such
a body as pleases him, and to every seed his
own body. So long as a man is tnie to the
task which God sets him, let him learn, in
whatsoever state he is, therewith to be con
tent. I cannot be the apostle Paul, but I
will not worry about that; my sole concern is
to ripen the best fruit I may where I am
planted. And, moreover, marvels do not
make up the bulk of life. The few prodigies
of growth which the farmer brings to the
agricultural fair, are exceptions not specimens
of his harvest. His bams and cellars are
filled with something quite different from
what is contained in the single basket. The
most of both nature and life is made up of
what we call commonalties. God never meant
that men should be all the time doing wonder
�12
“NOTHING BUT LEAVES.”
ful tilings; if they did, they would cease to Ire
wonderful. We esteem them marvellous sim
ply because they are infrequent; and if you
come to the real truth of the matter, those
relative epithets, great and small, as we use
them, amount to almost nothing. If an apple
grows till it measures a foot, we call it a prod
igy ; but it is not near so much of a prodigy
as that the smallest apple should grow at all.
The process itself, and not its extent, is the
real wonder. The evening prayer lisped by
the child is just as really, just as worthily,
just as acceptably praise as the triumphant
strain from the harp-strings of the seraphim.
Your victory over some common temptation
is just as wonderful as the rout of the rebel
lious hosts of heaven. The Christian graces
that ripen in your humble life are as great a
marvel, and glow as brightly in the sight of
God, as the twelve manner of fruits that lian"
on the tree planted by the crystal river of
Paradise. And just this kind of fruit men in
every station may bring forth every day.
But my lot in life, you say, is so humble
and my experience has so little that is note
worthy, what can I do ? Whether ye eat or
drink, says the apostle, or whatsoever ye do,
�“NOTHING BUT LEAVES.
13
do all to the glory of God. Let a man thank
God that he can glorify him in common things.
Nor let him forget that, in modest walks and
unobtrusive ways, he may chance to make
the most acceptable offering. When God
paints a flaunting lily, he dashes on the raw
est of colors; but the little violet is tinted
with heaven’s own hue. The Alpine straw
berry, no larger than a pea, is sweetest of all
thq fruits of the field. Nature compacts her
choicest flavors and colors, and seals them up
in the smallest of flasks, and the man who
pierces down to the lowest stratum of life, and
sanctifies the common word and act, evidences
thereby a richer and fuller grace than he who
stands up in the pulpit to preach, or sets him
self sword in hand at the head of the hosts
of some great reform.
As a general rule, rich and rare fruits are
ripened slowly. Some of the most eminent
forth-puttings of pious growth have been long
in maturing. Men have spent years in push
ing on silent but patient processes; and be
cause there was no speedy result adequate to
the labor, the world said, “Lo, these are bar
ren trees; they bear nothing but leaves.” Yet
just as the unsightly cactus, bequeathed from
�14
“NOTHING BUT LEAVES.”
father to son, wearing away the lifetime of*
three generations, without hint of beauty or
use, at last, when the full century is rounded,
flowers out into one full consummate blossom,
filled with the juices of a hundred years, so
at length the fruit of these earnest workers
appears. For thirty years Jesus was as a root
out of a dry ground, without form or comeli
ness, till the royal hour of his ripeness struck;
and then what age was ever so magnificently
blossomed as the brief years of his ministry?
What other era of time has borne such fruits
as Gethsemane and Calvary? It matters not
though men call our lives barren, if with faith
ful and unwearying culture we are carrying
out the plans of the groat Husbandman..
When God pleases, the harvest long ripening
will appear all the more impressive from the
unsuspected quiet out of which it has grown.
Almost every life has its crises and turningpoints of greater or less magnitude. There
are single hours and acts that, like rudders,
steer us into wide seas of triumph or misfor
tune. In their significance and influence they
stand solemn and apart from the rest of life.
But there is no other so wonderful epoch
in a man’s'history as the time when, after
�“NOTHING BUT LEAVES.”
15
years of barrenness, or at best “ nothing but
leaves,” he becomes at last genuinely fruitful.
You have read that thrilling story of the bro
ken cable stretched along the ocean’s bed for
more than a thousand miles; how “night and
day for a whole year the electrician had been
watching its tiny signal ray; how sometimes
wild, incoherent messages came from the
deep, spelt out by magnetic storms and earth
currents, till of a sudden, on a morning, the
unsteady flickering changed to coherency;
and after the long interval that had brought
nothing but the moody and delirious mutter
ings of the sea, stammering over its alphabet
in vain, the cable began to speak, and to
transmit the appointed signals, which indica
ted human purpose and method at the other
end, instead of the hurried signs, broken
speech, and inarticulate cries of the illiterate
Atlantic.”
But that is a more wonderful
hour, when over the living wires of the soul,
long speaking in stammering and incoherent
phrase, as the earth currents and the storms
of sense and sin have uttered themselves,
there comes at length the unmistakable pulse
of thought and feeling from the Infinite wis
dom, and 6rod begins to speak through that
�1G
“NOTHING BUT LEAVES.”
soul to men by tlie signals of holy words and
works. The thrill and ecstacy of that hour
Will never be lost. It will be the bright con
summate centre of life, for not two continents
but two worlds are then wedded into one.
How is it with you, my brother? Does
Christ, when he comes to you, as he comes
daily, find a fruitful life, or “nothing but
leaves ?” Give heed to the lessons of every
autumn hour, that leaves, however fair, soon
fall and perish, while the fruit is gathered into
garners. What provision are you making for
the coming time, when the summer shall be
passed and the frosts of winter fall? Let
you and me strive for lives rich in lasting
results, and whatever of help and success we
may seek for the furtherance of our cherished
plans, still let our supreme prayer be—
Something, my God, for thee,
Something for thee!
That each day’s setting sun may bring
Some penitential offering;
In thy dear name some kindness done;
To thy dear love some wanderer won—
Some trial meekly borne,
Dear Lord, for thee!
t
|
�
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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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Title
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"Nothing but leaves"
Creator
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Atwood, Edward Stanley [1842-1926]
Description
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Place of publication: [Hong Kong]
Collation: 16 p. ; 15 cm.
Notes: From the library of Dr Moncure Conway. "Preached on board the steamship 'William Penn' copied by Stephen Massett; publicly read by him on board the steamship 'China' on her first voyage from San Francisco to Yokohama, Japan; and then printed at the office of 'China Mail', Hong Kong. [From title page]. Annotations in ink.
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[China Mail]
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[n.d.].
Identifier
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G5325
Subject
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Sermons
Nature
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<a href="http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/"><img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /></a><span> </span><br /><span>This work ("Nothing but leaves"), identified by </span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk"><span>Humanist Library and Archives</span></a><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span>
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application/pdf
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Text
Language
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English
Conduct of life
Conway Tracts
Faith
Sermons
-
https://d1y502jg6fpugt.cloudfront.net/25778/archive/files/23e4027c7721fd3f9d1ad96ccef1c18e.pdf?Expires=1712793600&Signature=iicHmYkPrvbzSDz-rR6fO2URtgL1hY2yUIgxqLUYxOAMIhvA9%7E0G1-Ctk2D%7E7CfgCQkNSdkuTG%7EsK08ZHiUFHntlupYUpxL9m2eESyOv0h7t0gClwi-k1Bd6sUNdzaABj33zYWs6-wj8jOxtfEY5Su4juSdQxEGuL47c9S2Fc2s%7E9jWzcOmSjnpO3A7pHh8O2MIBNASWgQYWv5KthSxskI3ZTJpF1z7HzKzfDrXqGLSuy-hKIVB3EN3thIAJ0rQSJtTSqtWvgo85YoAE7cAM-ItvgeX52mMxM1s%7E6SdQq9cPRXoMRnUJoKpdIQoowMjN3Py1SKxzd4TnP0uXuo9v2A__&Key-Pair-Id=K6UGZS9ZTDSZM
54a42b229694fb3839cb6da643adf560
PDF Text
Text
“TWO OR THREE BERRIES,”
AN AUTUMN SUBJECT,
BY THE
Rev. FRANK E. MILLSON,
OF HALIFAX,
DELIVERED AT
Jjouth
J^LACE
Chapel,
piNSBURY,
OCTOBER 31 st, 1875.
��“TWO OR THREE BERRIES.”
In that day it shall come to pass that the glory of Jacob
shall be made thin I
And it shall be as when the harvest man gathereth the com
and reapeth the ears with his arm ;
And it shall be as he that gathereth ears in the valley of
Rephaim.
Yet gleaning, grapes shall be left in it, as the shaking of
an olive tree.
Two or three berries in the top of the uppermost bough.
Four or five in the outmost fruitful branches thereof, saith the
Lord God of Israel.—Isaiah xvii., 4-6.
“ Two or three berries in the top of the upper
most bough. Four or five in the outmost fruitful
branches.”
It is strange to note the enduring value of a true
image. Here is a sight, which we may see now
in every hedge-row, on the skirts of the woods,
in the thickets of our gardens, and we find that it
was seen and mused upon in the far-off ages, when
the Jewish prophet lived, and that it seemed to him
to be the very best illustration of his thought. His
�4
message was that with the downfall of Damascus
should come ruin to Israel. Drawing an illustration
from the bareness of the land after the harvest, the
prophet says—“ It shall be as when the harvest man
gathereth the corn, and reapeth the ears with his
arm ; as when they have gleaned after the reaper
in the valley of Rephaim,” till the land is stripped
of its last show of fertility. But the very image
that he has used calls to his mind another, the
recollection of what he has seen in the time of the
latter harvest; and, when that flashes on his
mind, he adds some words of consolation—all shall
not be taken away, and the land made utterly deso
late. There shall be a gleaning of grapes in it,
the shaking of an olive tree; two or three berries in
the top of the uppermost bough—four or five in the
utmost fruitful branches thereof. In the general
bareness of the land, these, “the things that remain,”
have a peculiar beauty, and a value which we should
never think of giving them, when we are in the full
enjoyment of the luxurious abundance, the full
clusters and many fruits of summer. It is the true
autumn lesson—as new and as valuable now as it
was in those old days, taught to us quite as impres
sively as ever it was.
Value the things that are left
to you, they are worth more because they are left
�5
and have survived; and, if the crop is but small, it
- is, at any rate, all that there is. We have the sug
gestive imagery about us now, meeting us in our
rambles, speaking to us in the shining berries which
have taken the place of the richly coloured foliage,
most of all, perhaps, in the shy, solitary rose,
mounted almost out of sight to the very topmost
twig—more beautiful than the somewhat rampant
glories of the summer roses, for it has to contrast
and to set out its perfection, the damp and decay,
the blackening leaves and naked stems, dripping and
sodden with the showers. It has the beauty and
the value of the things that are left, and the sugges
tiveness to thought of all these later autumn beauties
is just this, that they seem to say to us, “ We are
all that are left to you, make of us all that you can.
Yet, in spite of the general ruin and decay, earth is
not left without some beauty; pale, scentless, it is
true, but prized perhaps more than the common
beauties of the summer and the spring.” Make the
most of the things that remain. We may very usefully
apply the lesson to our circumstances of life. How
seldom is it given to any one to enjoy full summer
all his days, to live a prosperous life quite to the
end. Circumstances are but surroundings. They
are not ourselves; and often it is well for us that
�6
we should be taught by sharp experience that this
is so. They drop away from us and leave us, even
as the summer glories fade away from the earth;
and the man who was rich and influential, who
seemed to be secure in the possession of all that he
could wish, finds that he can be separated from it,
and that sometimes it leaves him little more than a
late autumn crop, of property and possession, two
or three berries only, and those on the uppermost
bough, four or five in the outmost fruiting branches
of his life. It is the part of a true wisdom to make
the most of them—from all that is left to seek for
the greatest gain, surely not to despair and to re
fuse to see any beauty of advantage or use in the
wrecks and shattered remains of what was once so
fair a show. It is so, because the law of our life is
like that scientific law of evolution in this, that the
things which remain to us are usually those which
deserved to remain, the fruits of our life. Success
may have gone and failure come, but the failure
may bring with it patience and endurance, earned by
the qualities which once ensured success; now
ornamenting the career which has no longer any
other fruits of its success to show. “Not what they
have failed in, not what they have suffered, but
what they have done, ought to occupy the survivors,”
�7
says Goethe. And it is a true saying, the man who
has lived a true life, always obeying the demands
of conscience, is released from the tyranny of cir
cumstance, and if but little is left him of the things,
riches, honour, wealth, which seemed so essential to
his condition whilst he had them, he can do without
them, having in himself the well-ordered mind
which can find good in little. Such was Jeremy
Taylor, who, when his house had been plundered
and his family driven out of doors and his worldly
estate sequestrated, wrote, “ I am fallen into the
hands of publicans and sequestrators, and they
have taken all from me. What now? Let me
look about me. They have left me the sun and the
moon, much to see, many friends to pity me and
some to relieve me; and I can discourse still, and,
unless I list, they have not taken away my merry
countenance and my cheerful spirit and a good con
science ; they have still left me the providence of
God and all the hopes of the gospel and my reli
gion, and my hopes of heaven and my charity to
them too; and he that hath so many causes of joy
and so great, is very much in love with sorrow and
peevishness, who loves all these pleasures and
chooses to sit down upon his little handful of
thorns.”
�8
This seems to me to be in the right, cheerful
spirit of contentment, which is not by any means
the abstract virtue that it is supposed to be, but may
be easily acquired by those who know its secret, which
is only to make the most of the things that remain,
admiring the two or three berries which cling to the
uppermost bough of life. As you look at them you
find that they are not merely “two or three,” there
are “ four or five,” and to the wintry landscape with
its bareness they impart some of the beauty and
colour of summer. Discontent always remains dis
content so long as it is occupied with itself; but, if
once we look outside ourselves, nature makes the
present things, the claims of the day, of paramount
interest to us, and we are gradually coaxed back
again into activity and hope. As we have often
found—have we not ?—some sorrow or change has
come upon us, and for a time all the interests of
life seemed to be carried into the past and life itself
to be turned into stagnancy; but sorrow generally
brings with it its occupancies and duties, and they
win back the mind to calm and resignation. You
may note this in any sorrow of your own or of your
friends. There is a little history of it in those suc
cessive Christmas-days in “ In Memoriam.” The poet
has lost his friend, and Christmas brings him only
�9
sadness and a quick feeling of his loss. It is merely
for use and wont, in obedience to old custom, that
Christmas is kept at all. “ They gambol, making
vain pretence” of gladness, and “sadly falls the
Christmas eve.” Another Christmas has the “quiet
sense of something lost; ” but now the game and
dance and song have place, none “shows a token
of distress,” and the poet asks almost self-accusingly; Can grief be changed to less ? and answers
his own thought—
“ O, last regret; regret can die !
No—mix’t with all this mystic frame,
Her deep relations are the same
But with long use her tears are dry.”
This is the lesson, then of the season. Look for
the few beauties that it has. They may, perhaps,
prove to be as suggestive, almost as satisfying, as
the summer glories or the hopefulness of spring.
And, learning a lesson from nature, practise it in
life. Do not allow sorrow or discontent to master
the soul. They will if you are always thinking
about them, but fix your attention on present duties.
Make life happier for those about you, be helpful
and useful so far as you can. Now and then “ take
stock” of the pleasures that remain to you, and, as
Jeremy Taylor did in his deprivation, you will find
�IO
that life is still endurable—nay, that it has some
pleasures, which, like the late berries on the trees,
are, if not very sweet to the taste, at least cheerful
to the eye.
There is a similar wisdom which may be shown
in our judgments of and dealing with our characters.
Many a man reaches the autumn of his days only
to find that of the seeds of endeavour which he has
sown there have come up but a very poor crop.
He has conscientiously striven and has often failed.
Many good resolutions, much earnest effort, a great
deal of self-denial, and many very seeming successes,
have ended in little real gain. The besetting sin,
whatever it may be, has proved too strong for the
resisting will; and I have noticed that it is
characteristic of such a life to grow bitter against
itself at the end. It is as if a husbandman had
ploughed, and sown, and weeded, and found but in
the end a very scanty crop—ground nearly as bare
as if it had been reaped already; and in such a
case it is cold comfort, I know, to point out a few
ears, or, if his crop is of the vineyard, some
straggling grapes; but there is some comfort in it
too, for a vine that will grow some grapes has the
possibility, under more favourable circumstances,
of growing more, and there is the chance of a full
harvest another year.
�II
Much of the shameless sin that marks the end
of some lives that have never been quite free from
very conscientious efforts at self-improvement come,
I am convinced, of hopelessness. A man is weary
of trying- to overcome some temptation. He has
tried for years, perhaps, and some strong- innertendency, some weakness, which it seems as if he
could not help, has got the better of him again and
again. So he gives up all effort, loses all self-respect,
and resigns himself up to sin. It is a weakness which
none of us can greatly blame, which he certainly
who knows how hardly he preserves the balance
of his own soul, will look at with a very pitying eye,
and perhaps the wisest word that can be spoken in
such a case is this—don’t say that you are altogether
bad. You have still the preference for what is
right—the wish to do well. It is but a poor crop of a
life to have only that, but it is much better than no
crop at all, infinitely superior to the luxuriance of
wilful sin, for it means that, so long as we feel
this dissatisfaction with ourselves—so long as we
keep a clear notion of the right which we ought to
do, we are not left quite to ourselves, are not, there
fore, in an altogether hopeless condition. I suppose
that most of us can remember that when we
were children the hardest punishment to bear,—
�12
the most effectual, too, I believe,—was that
of being- left to ourselves—forbidden nothing—
restrained in nothing—treated as if we were
nothing. God never so treats us, He never leaves
us to our own devices, never lets us put ourselves
outside his suggestions of right and wrong, and to
these we ought to cling, when they are all that we
have left to us. When will is weakness and good
examples fail us, and respect even for the opinion of
our friends is not a strong enough compulsion, then
do not let us be blind to this last chance, and, re
fusing to see it, rush into sin. “ At that day a man
shall look to his Maker,” says the prophet, speaking
of Israel in its utmost need, and as with the nation
so with the man—the last glimmer of a sense of
right, the poorest gleanings of a crop of good reso
lutions, even the wish to do right, may avail to save
us from the utter despair which strives no more,
and is led away helpless by temptation.
How I wish that any words of mine could make
this a real truth to those who are in such danger as
I have described! But words are very powerless
in such a case as this. Only I would suggest the
thought.
One other thought the picture which is my text
suggests to me. It is that which is contained in the
�13
practical conclusion of the passage which I have
read to you. “ At that day shall man look to his
bM
Maker, and his eye shall have respect to the Holy
hO|
One of Israel.” The religious attitude of mind for
gotten in the midst of plenty is recovered when
few| want is felt. And is it not so, that there is a moral
gel J lesson for us in the scantiness and rarity of natural
sdl beauty in the wintry landscape? Two or three
9<I
berries then, when we see them on the mountain
2J5
ash making a scarlet glow amidst the bare
W
woods or on the long-swinging rose-tendrils where
rf) the clusters of flowers have been, or on the
&
thorn, which has lost its delicate texture of
flowers and the dense green of its foliage, even
two or three catch the eye and fix the atten
tion, and stimulate the thought which the wealth
and luxuriance of summer had only distracted.
Meditation is the autumnal mood, for then the mind
rf
finds enough of beauty to suggest, and not enough
to oppress reflection. Autumn is for this reason
J
the poet’s fruitful season. Fancy is not over
1
weighted with imagery; and of natural beauty
there is enough to suggest and to quicken thought.
So Milton, and Wordsworth, and Coleridge all
found late autumn and early winter their most fruitful
and productive time of the year. The things that
fjnq
�remain, few as they are, may suggest, will very
likely, in consequence of their fewness, suggest,
religious reflection, for we seek God in our needs
more readily than when we abound in all things,
and a few objects of beauty amidst a world of
bareness and sterility may lead the thoughts, which
are troubled at the loss of summer wealth and
spring suggestiveness, to seek, in reflection, the
meaning and lesson of it all.
These are the thoughts, a little far-fetched it
seems to me as I write them, which the image
of my text suggests. They are thoughts of cheer
fulness under disappointments, and courage to
persevere when the sense of repeated failure
oppresses the mind, and suggestions of the thought
fulness that comes to the mind which is compelled
to concentrate itself on a few objects; and if we can
find these in them, the “ two or three berries,” our
autumn picture may teach us more than we can
learn from summer flowers.
�i5
Leaf by leaf the roses fall,
Drop by drop the springs run dry,
One by one, beyond recall,
Summer beauties fade and die.
But the roses bloom again,
And the springs will gush anew,
In the pleasant April rain
And the summer sun and dew.
So in hours of deepest gloom,
When the springs of gladness fail,
And the roses in their bloom
Droop like maidens wan and pale ;
We shall find some hope that lies,
Like a silent germ apart,
Hidden far from careless eyes
In the garden of the heart :
Some sweet hope to gladness wed,
That will spring afresh and new,
When grief’s winter shall have fled,
Giving place to sun and dew :
Some sweet hope that breathes of spring
Through the weaiy, weary time,
Budding forth its blossoming
In the spirit’s silent clime.
Howe.
�3
�
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Two or three berries,: an autumn subject ... delivered at South Place Chapel, Finsbury, October 31st, 1875
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Sermons
Autumn
Sermons
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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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2018
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Conway Hall Ethical Society
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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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[1872?]
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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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Conscience
Conway Tracts
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“THE PEOPLE OF GOD.’’
A SERMON,
I
PREACHED AT THE REV. CHARLES VOYSEY’S SERVICES, ST.
GEORGE’S HALL, LANGHAM PLACE, AUGUST 9th, 1874, BY
MR.
HOPE
MONCRIEFF.
[From the Eastern Post, August Ibth, 1874]
On Sunday (August 9), at the St. George’s Hall, Langham-place,
Mr. Hope Moncrieff officiated in the absence of Mr. Voysey, and
took his text from Exodus xxxii., 32., “ Yet now if thou wilt for
give their sin; and if nob, blot me, I pray Thee, out of the book
which thou hast written.” Also, Romans ix., 3, “I could wish
that myself were accursed from Christ for my brethren.”
He said—A frequent source of error and confusion in religious
truth, is looking on the prophets of God as inspired in all their
utterances by the same measure of His spirit. We should rather
remember that the imperfection of humanity clogs even the
strongest souls, and that the brightness of truth dazzles the clearest
eyes. There are times when such a one seems to be caught up
into the third heaven, and sees things unspeakable, which mortal
tongue can scarce utter. Again, the lower nature asserts its
claim, and the man for whom the veil of Paradise has been rent
is seen to be blinded by the prejudices of time or place. Some
times he comes among us as from the very presence of the Holiest,
with a veil over his face, and a power in his voice to make guilty
nations tremble; sometimes his words are but those of the learning
of the Egyptians.
On one occasion the great teacher sets forth
our duty to our neighbour under the wide hearted parable of the
good Samaritan; on another, we find him forbidding his messengers
to bear the good news of salvation into any cities but those of a
chosen race.
So the wise disciple must not allow himself to be
carried away by superstitious regard for his master’s every word,
but by the light of his own knowledge in spiritual things must take
care to separate the gold from the alloy, the temporal from the
eternal. Both are found in every gospel that has yet been given
�to man. The one may endure for a time, and serve to feed the rage
of that great army of bigots, controversialists, inquisitors, ecclesi
astics, and the like, who are in truth but the camp-followers of
religion, though so often they pass for its saints and heroes. The
other, falling into good ground will spring up and bear fruit a
hundredfold, and, so long as the world stands, will increase and
multiply as food for the noblest needs of mankind.
Two striking instances of this are to be found in. the passages to
which I have called your attenion. The man who prays:—“ Blot
me out of the book which thou hast written,” has his hands red
with the human blood which he imagines that God will accept as a
sacrifice for the sins of the people. The man who cries:—11 Let me
be accursed from Christ, for the sake of my brethren,” goes on to
show that he means only his brethren according to the flesh, those
who were Israelites, to whom, as he thought^ pertained the adoption
and the promises. Yet when we consider what those hopes were,
which the two great expounders of the old and the new dispensa
tions were willing to sacrifice in their burning love for others, we
must look upon these as among the grandest and most instructive
passages in the Hebrew and Christian Scriptures. Moses rises fn
moral stature above the God who is represented as peevish,
capricious, and revengeful. Paul offering soul as well as body to
eternal death, seems to beggar that conception which we have
called divine, that a man should give his blood for the sins of the
world. Let us rejoice that their words remain to put to shame
that ignoble teaching which even among ourselves would make
religion only a more cautious and far seeing form of selfishness, and
teach us that our one work in the world is to save our own miser
able souls from whatever fate awaits our fellow-men.
A lofty summit which the great men of old only caught sight of
here and there through cloulds of superstition, is now coming full
in our view, though it may yet be long before we stand upon it and
command the glorious prospect beyond. The moral sense of our
age finds it impossible to rejoice in visions of a paradise, one of the
joys of which shall be to sing endless hallelujahs over the agonies
of lost souls. The great doctrine, that which may well be said to
mark the dawn of a new dispensation, has taken root, and is lifting
its head above the weeds that had almost choked it; and men are
�learning that they are Brothers indeed. Once let us feel this and
we can no longer believe that our common father has a special
regard for any chosen race or favoured individual.
Hitherto a narrower conception of God’s love has reigned in our
minds, and we see the results. When this life was all the clear
promise, the enemies of the Lord were no be smitten hip and thigh.
To obey was to hew Agag in pieces; it was a holy mission to make
Jezebel food for dogs. In time came dim glimpses of a life beyond
the grave: and here, too, the ignorant zeal of man was busy
to deny his inheritance to the stranger and the Gentile. The
Jewish vision of a place of future punishment, took form and
colour from the foul fires of the valley of Gehenna; and the fierce
temper of A ryan converts made these fires more hot and hideous.
Then all through the middle ages, the fear of hell sat like a night
mare upon the hearts of men, a fear so unbearable that it overleapt
itself. Such a horrible picture could not be realized ; if realized,
it was madness and despair. The Catholic Church of that day
but obeyed the voice of nature in putting its purgatory before the
eternal hell, and giving its votaries hope that such sufferings might
have an end, By and bye came the Reformation, and in this
reaction against Boman teachings, our orthodox theologians would
again have brought hell into the foreground of their religious
scenery. But as the light of truth dawns, these avenging flames
grow paler and paler, and now, to most intelligent men of all
sects, they are little more than an ugly dream.
That the notion of eternal punishment is falling into general
contempt, or at least neglect, is evident to any one who cares to
read the thoughts of his generation. In such matters we must not
be misled by creeds. If we were to look merely at the published
dogmas of the religious world, we should come to quite a different
opinion. But churches are like barometers which, show not only
the present state of the weather, but that at which they were last
set; it is a pity we do not set our barometers oftener. One hand
marks a time‘when we believed that Jews, Turks, infidels and
heretics were objects of the wrath and vengeance of God. The
other has evidently risen a long way, and still is rising, for churches,
no more than barometers, can resist the atmospheric pressure.
So we see a strange contradiction of belief and dogma. Most ortho
�dox people would perhaps tell you that they believed in hell, but
it is quite clear that they would rather not talk about it; many of
them frankly and vehemently deny it. The subject is studiously
avoided in the majority of pulpits, or, if not, is introduced with an
apologetic air, and touched upon in a vague, hasty maaner that
hows it advocates to be ashamed of it. The doctors and dignitaries
of the establishment have for some time been hard at work trying
to explain to themselves and to one another, how they may continue
to say that beyond doubt certain persons shall perish everlastingly,
without meaning anything in particular. The churchman has his
cut and dry theory; man is in a state of sin and reprobation, God
has constructed a machinery of grace ; through this only have we
any prospect of escape. But if you press him as to the future
state of those who do not or cannot avail themselves of this
machinery, he hesitates to answer, and his kindliness clearlyrefuses
to let him go with his creed to all its logical lengths ; so you leave
him with a suspicion that his God would be no more consistent
than himself. Liberal clergymen notoriously reject the notion of
eternal damnation, though the Athanasian curses are chanted very
prettily in some of their churches. The so-called Evangelical school,
to do it justice, tries harder' to keep by its traditions, but there
seems something remarkably suggestive, in the very vehemence
with which it endeavours to express its belief on this point. One
of the most popular organs of the dissenting world has for some
time been feeling its way out of the necessity of doubting God’s
justice, and has got to this point, that it is open to all orthodox
Christians to hold that the wicked and unbelieving are not
tortured, but annihilated after death. These are signs of the
times; and though the preachers are wholly dumb, there are a
thousand voices proclaiming that man’s spirit, entering into a
richer inheritance of blessing, has beheld wider realms of God’s
goodness. Our whole literature is saturated with a belief or an
unbelief, in which endless miseries for any part of our race, have
no more place than the existence of a devil with horns and tail.
This divine thought which now comes fuller in view, this reve
lation which the old prophets saw afar off, is the greatest glory of
our age. Beside such a discovery in moral science, how small
things are our steam engines and spectroscopes. To believe this
�tiuth is to be born again. Do not say it is mere cowardice and
dislike of the unpleasant conditions of existence—though there is
something that might be said on this point—which is working
this change, and making us willing to take an easy rose coloured
view of God’s dealings with man. Life has still sad and stern as
pects to try our faith and endurance ; it is only hopeless woe in
which we refuse to believe. The hell which we imagined was for
others, for the heathen, ior the impenitent; for ourselves we always
left some loophole of escape. But it is the men who are nearest
heaven, who now tell us that there are no flames which its streams
of mercy cannot quench. The new faith is the work of quickened
sympathy, wider knowledge, real humility. It is when we consider
our imperfection, shared by the rest of mankind, the varied sur
roundings which mould the opinions of ourselves and our neighbours,
the unequal measures of capability and opportunity which have
been bestowed upon us, it is only, I say, when we rise above ig
norance and pride and selfishness, that we feel it would be cruel
in an Omnipotent Creator to exact eternal vengeance on any soul
of man, and base in us to cringe for the favour of such a being,
great only in his resistless strength. We cease to look on it as
our du ty to put rhe idolatrous nations to the sword; we begin to
believe that the wicked shall not be cast into a hopeless hell; we
come to see that the people of God are no elect saints, no chosen
tribe, but all the nations of the earth. Then we know in truth that
to love God whom we have not seen, is to love our brothers who
sin and suffer side by side with ourselves.
When we wish to estimate the moral progress of man, we do
right to mark his highest point of thought, for a good thought can
never die, and its being put into deeds is only a matter of time.
But looking forward to our ideal, we must constantly remind our
selves how very far we ever lag behind it. And seeing the lessons
we have still to learn, w e may well say that we have not yet
mastered the alphabet of love. It is easy to abolish a conception
of hell, half terrible, half grotesque, and altogether out of keeping
with the taste of our age. It is a cheap thing to be generous with
spiritual blessings which we proclaim to be as free as the air. But
let us ask what we give our brothers from that which is our own,
and yet, if we Knew it, not our own.
�<5
The inquisitors of old were consistent in their belief, who burned
men’s bodies that souls might be saved from eternal fires. What
shall we say, if we leave bodies and minds in such a state that
Earth itself seems a hell for the soul ? Pain we have always
with us ; we may call it punishment, trusting our Father that in
love He chastens us. . It is useless to ask why we suffer;
enough, that we suffer by sin, and our hope is that these sufferings
are not endless, that we are being purified by these trials. God
has appointed means of help; do we labour night and day that
these means may be placed within the reach of those whose need
is sorest ? It is with loving pity or proud scorn that we regard
our brethren on whom the mysterious curse lies heavier than on
ourselves ? Is our own salvation our least care, and our greatest that
others may taste and see that the grace given us is good ? Alas !
we strive blindly and fiercely for the light itself, and care not that
the crowds below are sttll dwelling in a gloom where there is no
human help or hope—none but the spirit of God which can turn
the deepest darkness into day. Vain boasting over our attain
ments ! It is but a reflection of the truth that we see, if its rays
do not shine in our lives, only that soul which gives light to other
draws nearer to the glory of the sun.
Is it not sad to see the selfishness of men—a selfishness which
only changesits object when it seeks spiritual exclusiveness, and
its form, when it extends itself from individuals to communities !
Think of the narrow views of duty and interest in which we are
so often educated, taught to seek a certain standard of virtue, not
because it is the inheritance of the great human heart, but that we
may do honour to such a family, such a school, such a college
which thus instructs us to make pride rather than humility the
motive spring of our religion. See then, how we are divided into
classes and cliques, each priding itself on i ts moral and material
superiority to others. If the Beelzebub of old romance could
observe the ways of men, would he not laugh to see now these selfrighteous, self-deceiving herds flock to worship as God the godlike
man, who bade the simplest and the sinfullest seek him first,
whose heart was most open to the vilest outcast of earth. Need I
speak of our churches and chapels ? These, on ultimate analysis,
will be found to subsist in separation, chiefly through differences
of culture which we think it necessary to maintain as barriers for
�7
our sinful pride. Look abroad, and we find people set against
people, continent separated from continent by Atkntics of ignorance
and selfishness. Almost every nation in Europe names itself
Christian, and how complacently we boast of our Established
Churches, and call God to witness that His temples are reverenced
in every land. His blessing is involved on all our public acts ; his
law is proclaimed to be the guide of our policy. But brush away
these flimsy forms like a cobweb ; read the honest paragraphs of
your newspapers, and say if there is a single government in Europe
which does not habitually act on the assumption that the policy
of its most Christian neighbours is absolute selfishness, and that
every nation wants but the power and a mere figment of excuse, to
proceed to what in private life would be called murder and robbery.
We may see that little but the fear of punishment restrains us
from vulgar larceny, when it is with impious hymns to our common
Father, and accursed blessing of bloodstained banners in His name
that men set about stealing a province, or slaughtering half a
million of their fellow creatures. Good God! how far are thy
children yet from home 1
Our national life is not altogethe unchristain. We do something
to educate grovelling classes, and dependent peoples ; we send out
missionaries to those whom we call the heathen ; and from some
aspects such attempts are wholly creditable to us. But there are
features of our missions, which, as I should wish to explain more
fully, did time permit, distinguish them from the zeal of genuine
humanity. They are sectarian for the most part, and love of our
brother as man, trust in him as the child of God, find no place in
the creeds of our sects. The statesmen who believe blood and
iron to be the only strength of national prosperity, are but the
natural outcomes of religions which grant salvation to particular’
races, or creeds, or congregations. What we should most earnestly
support is a home mission to ourselves, to bring our sympathies
from the narrow courts and alleys in which they are confined.
The most enlightened of us know best how wide is this field of
exertion.
To love our neighbour as ourself, how easy it sounds to the
tender heart, but how hard it proves when we have not only to
make open war against selfishness, but to temper the very zeal
of our better nature! Love leads to “hate of sin that hinders
loving,” and in our hot haste we cannot pause to separate the sin
and the sinner, and would call down thunder from heaven upon
our brothers who make light of its law. It is hard, I grant, not
to believe sometimes in a hell for the enemies of the Lord and His
people. They are not only degraded savages and hardened outlaws
whom we are tempted to look upon as cut off from grace. When
we see the cruel selfishness with which respectable church-going
�8
-
)
people make their way in the world over the bodies and souls of
their poorer brethren, we can enter into the spirit which animates
the parable of Dives and Lazarus, and take a fierce joy in thinking
that a time of retribution shall come for those who so greedily
grasp the good things of this life. But deeper experience brings a
calmer mood. Vengeance is not ours, and if the Lord is long
suffering why should we be wroth ? Faith is ready to ascend into
heaven with the prayer : “Father forgive them, for they know not
what they do.” We learn of the Spirit, and see that as pity is
nobler than indignation, so is fear weaker than love.
And then it is only when we regard the sins of others that we
wish there may be a great gulf fixed beyond the grave. As has been
beautifully said, the highest mountains of earth are scarcely nearer'
to the stars than the lowest valleys, and paradoxical as it may
sound, true humility gives us wings on which we rise to see what
the eyes, of heaven see always, how far we all come short of the
glory of God. When we consider our own temptations, our
wasted opportunities, the vile thoughts and words and deeds that
ever rebel against the most kingly spirit, the best of us may well
abase himself in the dust, and thank heaven that his fate is ono
with that of the chief of sinners. Oh ! how our fears should
vanish if we could but believe that we are the most worthless of
God’s people. Why need we doubt as to our future state, when
we are sure that our destinies are bound up with the final welfare
of the whole human race; that what God has done for us, He can
do for others, and that what He is doing for others, He will do
even for us !
It may seem that I have mixed up too closely the ideas of
suffering here and suffering hereafter. But it will be seen on re
flection that the root and the remedy of all our misery is the
same. We must learn that we are members one of another' And
as our spiritual being becomes more refined, more sensitive, so we
come to feel that while the meanest member is in pain, the whole
body must suffer, and to understand that there can be no heaven
for us, while one soul is dwelling in hell. At the voice of love a
new light comes into the eyes of hope. Then faith takes courage
and prophesies that all flesh shall see the Salvation of our God.
If Paul and Moses were alive now, they would perhaps be more
distinguished for their works of practical benevolence, than for
tbeir utterances in the pulpit and through the religious literature
of the day. But this would be their secret prayer : “Blot me out
of the book of hope, so long as the gates of omnipotent mercy are
closed to the most hardened sinner. Let me be accursed for my
brother man, till the least as well as the greatest shall know Thee
and rejoice in Thy everlasting love.”
Eastern Post Steam Printing Works, 89, Worship-street, Finsbury, E.C.
�
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A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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The people of God: a sermon, preached at the Rev. Charles Voysey's services, St George's Hall, Langham Place, August 9th, 1874
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Hope Moncrieff, A. R.
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Place of publication: [London]
Collation: 8 p. ; 19 cm.
Notes: Part of Morris Miscellaneous Tracts 6.
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[Eastern Post]
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1874
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Sermons
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Morris Tracts
Religion
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7
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4**
U
AND OTHER
A Sermon on Summer
A Mad Sermon
;
A Sermon on Sin
j
A Bishop in the Workhouse
A Christmas Sermon
Christmas Eve in Heaven
Bishop Trimmer’s Sunday
Diary
The Judge and the Devil
Satan and Michael
The First Christmas
Adam’s Breeches
The Fall of Eve
Joshua at Jericho
A Baby God
Judas Iscariot
BY
G. W. FOOTE.
/
—----------------- /
Price Eightpencei
4, 5 & fi—
-------- VKGReATsr Helens
LONDON :
I
$
•^OON,
—
R. FORDER, 28 STONECUTTER STREET.
1892.
��(J 2-4-6 7
nationalsecularsociety
SERMONS
COMIC
AND OTHER
<
FANTASIAS
I
BY
Gr. W. FOOTE
(Editor of the “Freethinker,”)
LONDON:
R. FORDER, 28 STONECUTTER STREET, E.O.
*
1892.
��A SERMON ON SUMMER.
By the Rev. Obadiah Rouser.
Dearly Beloved,—The weather is excessively warm to-day,
or, as some profane persons might say, damnably hot. My
thermometer registered ninety degrees in the Bhade at noon,
and no doubt it would have shown a higher temperature in
the sun, if I had been imprudent enough to place it there or
view it in that position. Your pastor, beloved, is no longer
slim as in the days of his curacy, when he played cricket with
the men and lawn-tennis with the ladies; when he rowed his
skiff under a broiling sun without any preternatural perspi
ration ; when he stretched himself out for a snooze in a shady
spot without the torturing consciousness that his nose offered
a spacious pasturage to a multitude of flies. No, beloved,
your pastor is no longer slim; he has lost the slenderness of
youth, and scoffers even assert that he is fat; yea, they have
been heard to say that he resembleth a bull of Bashan or the
great Leviathan himself. Nevertheless I thank God for the
change, even though it affordeth mirth to these wanton wits,
who neither revere the Lord nor his holy ministers. Blessed
be the Almighty ! for he hath permitted me to wax fat, yet
without kicking. And blessed be ye, O beloved ones! for
your unfailing bounty hath sustained me, yea and edified me,
so that I am become the envy of my brethren, and the
weightiest divine in all this part of her Majesty’s kingdom.
Yes, beloved, the summer is undoubtedly come at last,
after much anxious expectation. The sun darteth his fierce
rays through the blue sky, and there is often not a single
cloud as big as your pocket-handkerchief. Men’s hearts fail
because of the heat; they groan, they puff, they break forth
into an agony and bloody sweat, they are as limp as a wet
rag. And your pastor quaketh and shuddereth like jelly.
The Lord trieth him sore.
�( 4 )
Beloved, as I sat in my study last night in my dressinggown, sipping iced claret through a straw, and smoking one
of those mild cigarettes prescribed by Dr. Easy for my
asthma, and presented to me by the kind and considerate
Lady Providence, I wondered what I should take as the
subject of my sermon this evening. For nearly two hours
I had eudgelled my poor brains in vain, and the unwonted
exertion had nearly exhausted my strength. I had not an
idea, my head was as empty as a drum. In a fever of anxiety
I tossed off a tumbler of claret, and at the same moment I
sought the Lord in prayer. My petition was answered in
the twinkling of an eye. Something, as it were the divine
voice within me, whispered, “ Summer,” and I knew that was
to be my text. Oh these answers to prayer! How they
comfort and establish the faithful, how they confound and
overwhelm the infidel! Luminous traces of the divine
presence, they prepare us for that happy time when we shall
see the Master face to face, when we shall behold him with
even more fulness than he granted to his servant Moses in
the clift of the rock.
Summer, then, beloved, is the subject of my sermon. And
the first reflection that occurs to me is this—What a testimony
it is to the faithfulness of God! You will remember that
when Noah descended from the top of Mount Ararat he
“ builded an altar unto the Lord,” although holy writ, silent
on this as on so many other matters pertaining to the faith,
omits to inform us whence he procured his materials. On
that miraculous altar he burnt a prime selection of clean
beasts and fowl; and the Lord, who was always carnivorous,
as is abundantly proved by his rejection of Cain’s vegetables
and his acceptance of Abel’s meat, heartily relished the
savory smell. In that placable mood which naturally follows
the gratification of appetite, he vowed never to curse and
swear any more, or to kill all the world at a single blow; and
in his divine mercy he added the promise that, “ While
the earth remaineth, seed-time and harvest, and cold and
heat, and summer and winter, and day and night shall not
cease.” Now, beloved, has not this promise been punctually
kept? It is true that we sometimes get abominally bad
harvests, but who remembers a time when we had none at
�( 5 )
all ? And all we receive is a pure mercy, for the Lord might
righteously withhold his hand and starve us all. But, bless
and praise his holy name, he never does. He is a merciful
God, slow to anger, and of great compassion. He remembereth
our needs, and feedeth us though we have little faith; as you
know right well, beloved, and as I know perhaps better than
yourselves. Yes, we always get some kind of harvest; and
do we not always get some proportion of day and night ?
True, at midsummer, day almost swallows the night, and at
midwinter night almost swallows the day; and in very foggy
weather we can scarcely tell where the one ends and the
other begins. But the alternation of day and night is still a
fact. No sceptic can dispute it. It is too muoh even for
him. And, beloved, is not the succession of seasons also a
fact, which the sceptic is equally unable to explain away P
We know that the seasons, in a country like ours, often get a
little mixed; but they disengage themselves frequently
enough to remind us of God’s promise, to prove to us his
unchangeableness, and to show that he is the same, yesterday,
to-day, and for ever. Yes, spring is a fact, autumn is a fact,
winter is a fact, and summer is a fact. The infidel preacher
at the Hall of Science cannot doubt that, for last Sunday
evening, when my church was nearly empty, two ladies were
carried out of his crowded meeting, overcome with the
excessive heat. No, they cannot deny it. I defy all the
sceptics in the world. I challenge the whole army of infidels.
Their puny darts of argument are utterly ^powerless against
the invulnerable shield of heavenly wisdom. All nature cries
aloud, There is a God ! and the head of every faithful child
of God reverberates the sound. While seed-time and harvest,
cold and heat, day and night, and summer and winter
continue, the wretched unbeliever is constantly baffled by the
fulfilment of God’s promise to Noah. And thus, beloved,
this hot weather, which puts us all into the melting mood, is
a proof of God’s existence quite beyond the reach of Atheistic
logic; and it is no less a proof of God’s eternal faithfulness.
See, now, how the Almighty is always preaching to us. You
were ready to curse this intense heat, which breeds cholera
and other fatal plagues; but lo ! it is a blessing in disguise.
Some of you, in that rebellious state of mind might have
�( 6 )
been seduced into infidelity. Now, however, you are safe.
You see a sovereign proof of the existence of deity, and you
know that to say Summer is to say God. Hallelujah 1
Beloved, it is in no wise below the dignity of the pulpit to
introduce, after this magnificent reflection, a few references
of a lighter character. Let me then remark that, as many
people are in doubt whether to remain indoors or to go out
in this sultry heat, it is well to inquire what assistance on
this subject can be obtained from the Divine Word. I speak
with submission, but it appears to me indubitable that staying
indoors at this time of the year is a pernicious fault if not a
deadly sin. “ He that gathereth in summer is a wise son,”
saith the sage author of the Book of Proverbs ; and how can
we gather anything unless we go where it is to be found ?
Let us further recollect that Eglon, the fat king of Moab, was
sitting in a summer parlor when he met his death at the
hand of Ehud, a fate which he might have avoided if he had
taken his corpulence into the open air, where his attendants
might have watched him and preserved him from all danger.
We should also remember that Abraham “ sat in the tent
door in the heat of the day,” when the Lord appeared unto
him in the plains of Mamre. Had he kept within his tent he
would probably nevei’ have seen the Lord, whom no man hath
ever seen, never have talked with him face to face (cheek by
jowl, as a wicked infidel expresses it) as a man talketh with
his friend, never have washed G-od’s feet, never have stood
the Almighty a good dinner. What is still worse, he would
have had no son Isaac as the child of his old age, and thus
our Blessed Savior would never have been born for want of a
progenitor. Oh, what a terrible reflection! All our pro
spects through eternity depended that afternoon on Abra
ham’s sitting on the right side of a piece of canvas. Dearly
beloved, let me beseech you to take warning from this event.
At least, be out of doors in the heat of the day, so that you
may descry the Lord if he should pass by; yea, and also in
the cool of the day, for he walketh then likewise, as is shown
by the inspired story of the Fall.
There are some people, beloved, who appear to disregard
the weather. They affect surprise when their neighbors
complain of the heat in summer or the cold in winter.
�( 7 )
What exasperating serenity do these persons exhibit1
Surely it must have been characters of this description that
composed the Church of Laodicea, of which the Holy Spirit
so sweetly and elegantly declared that “ because thou art
lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spue thee out of
my mouth.”
Only a little less pitiable is the state of those whose blood
is congealed with age, who are cool in the brightest sun, and
positively shiver when the sun goes down. Yet there is a
remedy for these ; and may the elder members of my flock
listen devoutly while I expound it. I turn first to the royal
author of Ecclesiastes, who saith, “ If two lie together then
they have heat.” Ah, beloved, that is only the threshold of
my discovery, the first line of my recipe. I now turn to the
beautiful and instructive story of David’s old age, as recorded
in the first chapter of the first Book of Kings. When this
brave King of the Jews, this royal man after God’s own
heart, drew near his end, he suffered greatly from ague or
some such disorder. They piled bed-clothes upon him,
blanket after blanket, and rug on rug, but his poor old limbs
still trembled with cold. In this extremity his wise physicians
prescribed a bed-fellow to be taken nightly, and Abishag the
Shunamite, the loveliest damsel in all the coasts of Israel,
was selected for the purpose. A profane poet—no other, I
believe, than that arch-fiend, Lord Byron—has ridiculed this
exquisite story, which contains some of the noblest morality
ever inculcated. He hints that David took this “ fair young
damsel as a blister.” What shocking levity! What awful
depravity I No, David clasped her to his withered bosom
with paternal fondness; and she lay in his bed, not as a
blister, but as a warming-pan or a hot-water bottle. And
the reason, beloved, is obvious to common sense. Warmingpans and hot-water bottles, however well charged and pre
served, get colder and colder through the long hours of an
old man’s night; but a fair young maiden keeps warm till
the morning, and needs no replenishing. Beloved, this is
how you must regard the subject; and if any of you should
follow David’s regimen, you will of course take the prescrip
tion in a righteous and godly spirit. Amen.
My time, beloved, is drawing to a close, for how 'can a
�(«)
pastor of my proportions preach a long sermon in such
weather? Yet I cannot allow this opportunity to pass
without reminding you of the awful significance of a hot
summer. There is not the least doubt jn my mind that
the Lord occasionally permits the heat to become almost
intolerable on earth in order to remind us, not only of that
great day when, as the holy apostle St. Peter declareth
“ the elements shall melt with a fervent heat,” but also of
that still greater eternity, in which, unless we make our
peace with God, we shall lie panting and writhing in the
fire of Hell. Beloved, let me implore you to profit by this
merciful intimation. Lay the lesson to heart. Do not be
led astray by sceptical suggestions. You have, doubtless,
heard some wretched infidels assert that there is no Hell at
all. Oh, the horrible thought I I venture to maintain, in
scornful defiance of these impious wretches, that a universe
without a hell would be not only absurd, but (I say it with
reverence) an imputation on the Almighty’s benignity. It
must be clear to the dullest intelligence that Hell is necessary
to complete the divine scheme of redemption. Without a
hell, I should like to know what our Lord would have to save
us from; and without a Hell, I should like to know how
people are to be warned from the snares of infidelity. These
very sceptics belie their own principles. Their whole conver
sation is larded with saving clauses, which testify to their
secret belief in the holy verities they outwardly reject. Do
they not frequently say, “ It is devilish hot,” or “ It is hellish
hot ” ? And what are these expressions, I ask, but implicit
admissions that there is a Devil, and that there is a Hell ?
Yes, blessed be God, out of the mouths of infidels and
sceptics, and scoffers and scorners, the truth of our holy
religion is confirmed, and they themselves are “ compelled to
give in evidence ” against themselves.
Furthermore, beloved, it is necessary that you should
guard against the evil suspicion that every seat in Hell is
by this time occupied. There is room enough and to spare.
Yea, as Holy Scripture saith, “ hell and destruction are never
full.” There was, however, a time when the capacity of the
nether pit was nearly exhausted; but God, in his divine
mercy, increased its dimensions; and thus the holy
�( 9 )
prophet Isaiah was able to say that “ Hell hath enlarged
herself.”
Yes, beloved, there is a Hell, and the heat we now complain
of is only a mild foretaste of its consuming fire. Earthly
thermometers are useless in Hell; they are incapable of
registering the temperature, which infinitely exceeds our
worst experiences even in tropical countries. And there will
be no mitigations of its fierceness for ever, no iced claret, no
lemon squash, nor even a milk and soda! Nay, beloved, you
will cry in vain for a drop of water, as Dives did in one of our
Lord’s most tender and consoling parables. Ah, beloved, be
advised in time. Shun the fate of that ancient sinner. If
you do not, you must bear the responsibility, for my hands
are clean. I have discharged my duty by warning you to
flee from the wrath to come. I admonish you now, perhaps
for the last time, to beware of the day when, instead of saying
“ It is damned hot,” you may be damned and hot with a
vengeance, and without a chance of cooling off.
Now may the peace of God, which passeth all understand
ing, be with you and remain with you always. Amen.
A MAD SERMON.
Several years ago a famous preacher went mad (if we may
say so of a gentleman who was always cracked), and was
placed by his friends in a large private asylum. Under skilful
treatment he gradually improved, and at length he so far
recovered that his friends contemplated his removal. But a
lucky accident revealed the fact that he was really still
insane.
The chaplain of the establishment was taken ill one Satur
day morning, and no clergyman in the neighborhood could
be found, on so short a notice, to officiate for him the next
day. In this difficulty the Principal suggested to the
�( 10 )
chaplain that the mad parson might be asked to occupy his
place. He seemed to be quite recovered, he was a dulyordained minister of the Church of England, and his sermon
would no doubt have all the impressiveness of a farewell dis
course. The chaplain readily assented to the proposal, and
his substitute, who accepted the invitation with great alacrity,
was very busy during the rest of the day with pen and ink,
with which he blackened several sheets of paper.
Sunday morning arrived, and the new preacher looked big
with inspiration. His face wore a mystical expression, and
there was a far-away look in his large grey eyes. But at
times a gleeful smile flashed over his features, wrinkled the
corners of his mouth, and danced under his shaggy brows.
When the inmates of the asylum, or rather those who were
fit to go to church, had all taken their seats, there was a
hush of expectancy; although some grinned or frowned at
the ceiling and others at their neighbors. Presently the
Principal walked in with the mad parson, who looked as
sober as a judge, and might have been taken for a model
clergyman. The Principal entered the pew, and the chaplain’s
locum tenens went to the desk and began the service. He
read the prayers and lessons and gave out the hymns with
the most admirable propriety. His intonation and expression
were worthy of a bishop, and the Principal congratulated
himself on his happy escape from a serious difficulty.
But when the mad parson mounted the pulpit in full
costume there was a peculiar twinkle in his eye that aroused
the Principal’s suspicion. He had observed the same thing
before in several of his quiet patients when they were bent
on some piece of subtle devilry. Yet it was too late to inter
fere, and after all he might be mistaken. Perhaps it was only
a fancy, or a peculiar effect of the light upon the preacher’s
face.
For a minute oi’ two everything flowed smoothly. The text
was cited with excellent emphasis, and the first few sentences
were couched in unexceptionable language and read with pro
fessional gravity. But as he proceeded there was a change
in his matter and manner. His insanity was evidently
bubbling up from the depths, where it had lain so long con
cealed. Presently, a mad sentence sent two or three of the’
�( n )
quicker-witted patients into a fit of laughter, and several of
the sillier ones joined in the chorus through mere contagion.
In vain did the attendants try to restore order; the mad
parson grew madder every minute, and the patients laughed
louder and louder as he poured along the full stream of his
lunacy. The Principal arose and commanded him to desist,
but he was deaf to the voice of authority, and indeed quite
insensible to everything but his own performance. An
attendant ascended the pulpit stairs, and was promptly
knocked down with the Bible. A second was served in the
same way with the Prayer-Book. The Principal then ordered
the church to be cleared, which was done with considerable
difficulty, for many patients had by this time grown almost
uncontrollable. When they were all removed an attack was
made upon the pulpit. The mad parson sustained a long
siege, and defended the citadel with remarkable gallantry.
The stairs were so narrow that only one could mount them,
and the attendants were flung down in rapid succession by the
pious hero, who seemed full of the Spirit, and on excellent
terms with the God of Samson. Two short ladders were then
placed against the pulpit, and three attendants operated at
once against the enemy, who was overpowered after a sharp
struggle, and ignominiously dragged away from the scene of
his triumph.
The manuscript of his sermon was torn and mangled in
the contest, but portions of it were still legible. We are able
to give a few specimens of this extraordinary discourse, which
may be followed by others on some future occasion^
The mad parson’s text was taken from Deuteronomy xxxii.
15 : “ Jeshurun waxed fat and kicked.” His opening observa
tions were addressed to the context, the occasion on which
Moses spoke, and the sins of the Jews which he denounced.
He then began his playful comments on the text in the
following manner.
Various speculations have been hazarded as to the meaning
of Jeshurun. The first part of the word, Jeshu, is a con
traction of the common Jewish name of Joshua, which means
“Jehovah is his salvation.” Our Blessed Savior bore this
name, although we use the Greek form of Jesus, in order to
�( 12 )
invest the Redeemer with greater dignity; for there is some
thing extremely familiar, and almost vulgar, in the name of
Joshua, which, I remember in my childhood, was applied to
the scavenger who emptied our dustbins, and who was voci
ferously accused by all the children of the parish of having
inhumanly “ skinned the cat,” although I could never discover
what particular member of the feline family it was that fell
into his savage clutches. Yet as it was called “ the cat,” I
presume it was an animal of distinction," and perhaps of
universal reputation.
By rejecting the final letter ain from the Hebrew Je3hua,
the Jews give the name a peculiar significance. In this cur
tailed format means “ his name and remembrance shall be
extinguished.” Those miserable, unbelieving, perditions, yea
let me say damned Jews, have docked in this way the name
of our Blessed Savior, because, as they say, he was not able
to save himself, and it is clear that God Almighty did not
take the trouble to save him. Infamous wretches ! Those
who would dare to cut off the Redeemer’s tail in this shameful
manner deserve the hottest corner in hell; and bless and
praise his holy name, the Lord is keeping it for them for
ever. Reserved seats, numbered and booked.
The second part of Jeshurun is easily understood. Every
body knows the meaning of run. Resist the Devil and he
will run from you; encourage him and he will run after you.
You run from the policeman, you run for life when a bull or
mad dog is at your heels, and run over when you are full of
gossip and scandal. And well do I remember how I used to
run when Joshua the scavenger threatened me with his
shovel.
But it is difficult to understand why Jeshua’s name should
be docked of a syllable and plastered up with run. Perhaps
the operation left a running sore, or Jeshua himself ran away
to escape further amputation. At any rate our hero was
called Jeshurun, and that is enough for any believing soul.
According to our text, Jeshurun waxed fat. Holy Scripture
does not say where, who, and on what. When is a hopeless
question now. No man knoweth, not even the Son, but only
the Father, and he is a long way off in heaven, in an asylum
of his own. Where is a difficult, but still an easier question.
�( 13 )
It must have been some place in the East, where lunatics are
very properly regarded as inspired, treated with tenderness
and care, and venerated as the oracles of divinity. Yes, all
holy spirits are mad, and God is the maddest of us all; wit
ness Holy Writ, brethren, witness Holy Writ. Certainly
Jeshurun never waxed fat in an establishment like this, where
noble fellows such as ourselves are subjected to incredible
privations. Only last week I was compelled to fast forty-one
days and nights, which is the longest fast on record; for
Moses and our Blessed Savior fell short of it by a whole day,
and Jonah by thirty-eight diurnal revolutions in the whale’s
belly. On what is the third and last question. All the com
mentators are silent on this point, but they might easily have
learned the secret from King Eglon, or even from Elisha’s
*
bears Brethren, as we know to our cost, there is only one
way of getting fat—namely, good eating and drinking;
whether we drink the winepress of the wrath of God, or eat
our children in the strait siege, after the manner of the late
Charles Lamb, who when he was asked by a lady how he
liked babies, replied, “ Boiled, ma’am 1”
The final statement in our text is intended as a trial of
faith. He that believeth shall be saved, and he that believeth
not shall be damned. Fat men, my brethren, are not fond of
kicking, any more than they are of being kicked. Did you
ever see a fat man playing foot-ball? Never, never, never.
A fat man cannot stand easily on one leg—unless he lean
against a wall; and there is no wall in the text. Yet,
brethren, how can you kick without standing on one leg. Per
adventure you might stand on your head and kick with both
feet at once, but there is no head in the text. Brethren, you
are in a fog, as those who listen to sermons generally are.
But I will dispel it. I will solve the riddle. Jeshurun was
not a man at all, my brethren, but a baby; and he waxed
fat, and lay on his back and kicked. Hallelujah I The door
keeper will now go round with the plate.
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A SERMON ON SIN.
Abbreviated from the Rev. Joshua Grumpus.
Dearly beloved Brethren,—The subject of our discourse
this evening is Sin. It is one you are all conversant with,
for “ all have sinned.” Nay, ye are all “ conceived in sin ”
and “ shapen in iniquity.” Every thought and imagination
of your natural hearts is evil. There is not a clean spot in
the whole of your systems. From the crown of your heads
even unto the soles of your feet, ye are reeking masses of
spiritual corruption. This horrid condition is the result of
Adam’s fall. The father of our race, tempted by his wife,
who in turn was tempted by the Devil, ate an apple six
thousand years ago, and for that offence all his posterity have
come under a curse. Many sceptics have declared that this
doctrine makes the Almighty act like a madman or a fiend.
They doubt the justice of blaming, and still more of punish
ing, any person for a sin committed long before his birth.
Presumptuous wretches ! God’s ways are not our ways, and
if, in a single instance, we found the divine wisdom in accord
with common sense, that part of the holy volume would
immediately fall under the gravest suspicion.
The father of sin is the Devil. Foi some inscrutable pur
*
pose, which it were presumption to pry into, the Almighty
allowed the Evil One to seduce oui’ first parents, and sow in
them the fertile seeds of original sin. This is one of the
deepest verities of our faith, and all who doubt it will be
eternally damned. Yet, alas, in this sceptical age, there are
many who laugh at this great truth, who regard the Devil
lightly as a mere superstition, and playfully call him Old
Nick, Old Harry, Old Hornie, Old Long Tail, and so on.
Miserable creatures 1 They laugh now, but how they will
yell with agony when the Fiend clutches them, and drags
them down into the lake that burneth with brimstone and
fire! Brethren, above all things avoid laughter. God hates
it. It is the first step to hell. When you see a man smiling
at any article of holy religion, mark him at once as a brand
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for the burning. Broad faces are worn by the sons of Belial,
but long faces are a sure sign of grace.
Many sins are enumerated in the Bible, such as lying, theft,
adultery and murder. But these are not the greatest sins.
They chiefly injure our fellow-men, and do not directly affront
the majesty of heaven. For this reason our divine Father
readily forgives them. How many liars and thieves have
become glorions saints ! How many adulterers and murderers
are now sitting on the right hand of God ! Holy Scripture
teems with illustrations. Though your crimes be of the
greatest enormity, though you corrupt the innocent, oppress
the weak, rob the poor, and despoil the widow and orphan,
you may purchase forgiveness by repentance. But how
different is the sin of infidelity I Unbelief is the thricedistilled poison of iniquity. Remember our Blessed Lord’s
denunciation of Capernaum. The inhabitants of that city
rejected him though he wrought miracles to attest his mission.
No other crime is alleged against them. They may have been,
and probably were, honest and respectable people. Yet our
Savior declared that it should be worse for them in the day
ofjudgment than for the inhabitants of Sodom and Gomorrah.
Let me implore you then, beloved, to avoid the sin of unbelief.
It is worse than the most unnatural vice. It is the last step
on the brink of the abyss. If you must give a welcome to sin,
bid it “ take any shape but that.”
A still darker sin is the sin against the Holy Ghost, for
which there is no. forgiveness in this world or the next.
Brethren, are any of you guilty of this sin ? The Lord only
knoweth rightly, for the exact nature of the unpardonable
sin has never been revealed. Some eminent divines think it
apostacy, others presumptuous sin, and others a wilful
rejection of the gospel. Those various conjectures of fallible
men may all be wrong, and perhaps it is a sinful arrogance to
speculate on this sublime mystery. Yet, with a trembling
reverence, I venture to cast out a suggestion. Belief is
necessary to salvation, the gospel must be preached before
it can be believed, and there must be ministers before it can
be preached. Does it not seem, therefore, that the mainten
ance of God’s ministers is of primary importance P And may
not the sin against the Holy Ghost consist in the refusal of
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tithes, church rates, or other emoluments, to the preachers of
the Word P This view is countenanced by the story of
Ananias and Sapphira. They were destroyed for “ lying unto
God,” but we may reasonably suppose that their miserable
fate was partly due to their having lied about the proceeds
of the sale of their property, which should have been devoted
to the Church. Had they told a falsehood about any other
matter, their punishment would surely have been less sudden
and summary. Oh, beloved, ponder this pregnant passage
of Holy Writ, till it becomes a beacon of warning against the
awful sin of prevaricating with God, and withholding their
due from his ministers.
Brethren, I am also of opinion that Blasphemy is a form
of the unpardonable sin; and, indeed, our blessed Lord uses
that very word in describing it. Blasphemy! What an
awful word! It makes the flesh creep and the blood run
cold. This terrible sin, beloved, does not simply consist in
cursing and swearing, or taking God’s name in vain. Suoh
levity is indeed wicked; but it is, after all, one of the minor
sins, and it must frequently be winked it as a concession to
human weakness. It is often no more than a thoughtless
ejaculation, and perhaps the fact that the Almighty’s name
unconsciously springs to the lips on such occasions is a
tribute to the instinctive piety of the heart. Blasphemy is
a more deliberate offence. As all the Fathers of the Church
have taught, and as the civil law declares, it consists in
speaking disrespectfully of the Trinity, and bringing the
Holy Bible into disbelief and contempt. Alas, beloved, this
grievous sin increases daily in our midst, and shameless
blasphemers raise their impudent heads on every side. If
we teach them they discuss with us, if we denounce them
they laugh at us, and if we imprison them they revile us.
Senseless and obdurate wretches, they will hereafter ex
perience the terrors of God’s wrath in the fieriest depths of
hell. Not only do they mock the sacred wonders of the
Scripture, and wax merry over the profoundly instructive
histories of Samson and Jonah; they even indulge in un
speakable jests on our Savior’s immaculate conception, deride
his miracles, and pour contempt on his glorious resurrection
and ascension. The Lord God Almighty they call Old Jahveh,
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our Savior himself is familiarly called J. C., and the Holy
Ghost is jocosely styled the foggy member of the Trinity.
Nay, in one compendious blasphemy, the Trinity has been
called a three-headed wonder. Still worse remains, beloved,
although you might think it impossible. There is a low,
coarse, vulgar, indecent, obscene, blasphemous, infamous
print, which I will not honor by naming. Its editor has
already tasted imprisonment, but his stubborn spirit is un
subdued, and he persists in his evil course. Ridicule,
sarcasm, irony, every miserable weapon of infidelity is
employed against our holy faith. Oh, beloved, let me
implore you not to glance at this dreadful publication. Hesi
tate and you are lost. It fascinates like a serpent, only to
destroy. Once under its malign spell, you will blaspheme
with the worst of them. Your doom will then be certain, and
Hell will be your portion for ever.—And now to God the
Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost, be end
less praises, evermore. Amen.
A BISHOP IN THE WORKHOUSE.
Perhaps the title of this article will suggest a tragic story
of a fall from a high place, wealth, and dignity, into
abjectness, poverty, and misery. Such things do occur
in the lottery of fortune. Sometimes a beggar gets seated
on horseback, and sometimes a proud knight is thrown
from the saddle and pitched in the mud. But it is scarcely
conceivable that a bishop should become a pauper. Episcopal
servants of Christ usually feather their nests snugly against
the cold; and were adversity to overtake them, they
generally have rich friends to save them from “ the parish.”
No, it is not a tale of woe that we have to tell. We do
not know of any bishop who is reduced to beggary. The
B
�( 18 )
time has not yet arrived for such an awful occurrence. Some
day, perhaps, when priestcraft is exploded and Churches
are played out, an ex-bishop may find it hard to obtain
a living in the open labor market; but meanwhile the
lawn-sleeved gentry will continue to live on the fat of the land,
and prove that godliness is great gain, having the promise
of the life that now is, as well as of the life that is to
come.
Well now, as Shakespeare says, let us leave off making
faces and begin. Let us no longer keep the reader in
suspense, but let out the secret at once.
The Bishop of Winchester went last Sunday (June 12,1892) to
Farnham workhouse. He did not go in disguise as a “ casual,”
in order to see for himself how the pariahs of society are
treated in this nineteenth century of the Christian era.
He went in “full fig,” dressed in a style which, as Mill
remarked, no man could assume without feeling himself
a hypocrite, whether he was one or not. Nor did he go
for the purpose of giving the old women an ounce of tea,
or the old men an ounce of tobacco. His lordship’s mind
was above such low, contemptible carnalities. The object
of his visit was spiritual. He went to preach to the
paupers, and give them a little medicine for their souls.
They were in the union, the “half-way house on the road
to hell,” and the bishop told them (we suppose) how they
might still hope for a place in heaven, though it would
have to be a back seat, for as “ order is heaven’s first
law ” it would be a shocking violation of the divine
economy to let paupers jostle big capitalists, and landlords,
and bishops, and princes of the blood, who hold front-seat
tickets, numbered and reserved.
“This-is believed,” says the newspaper report, “to be
the first occasion on which a Prelate of the See of St. Swithin
has taken part in divine service in such an institution.”
The first time in all those centuries ! Truly the very paupers
are looking up. Or is it that the bishop is looking down p
In any case, what a change from the old days, when paupers
were certain of Hades! Was it not a West of England
workhouse in which an old paupei' lay dying while the
chaplain was in the hunting-field, and the governor was
�()
obliged to officiate ? “ Tom,” said the boss of this luckless
establishment, “ Tom, you’ve been a dreadful fellow; you’re
going to hell.”
Oh, sir,” replied Tom, “ you don’t say
so.” “Yes, Tom, I do say so,” rejoined the governor,
“ and you ought to be thankful you’ve a hell to go to.”
His lordship of Winchester doubtless talked to the
Farnham paupers in a different strain. Christianity is
now, not only the friend of the poor, but the friend of the
poorest; for even paupers have to be reckoned with, the
revolutionary spirit having penetrated to the very lowest
strata of our disaffected population. But the “ friendship ”
must be understood in a Pickwickian sense. Indeed, the
joke of a bishop, with £6,500 a year, hobnobbing with the
social wreckage of a system which supports his wicked
luxury, is colossal and pungent enough to send the very
Fat Boy into convulsions of laughter. We cannot help
thinking that the Bishop of Winchester is a humorist.
Perhaps if the Church is disestablished in his day, and
the worst comes to the worst, he will turn his attention
to the Stage, and take the shine out of Arthur Roberts
and Fred Leslie.
On this supposition, our regret at being unable to find
any report of “ Winchester’s ” sermon to the Farnham
paupers, is too deep for expression. All we can do in
the circumstances is to present our readers with a con
densed report of what the Bishop might have said; and
what, indeed, he would have said, if he had risen to the
level of the situation.
The Bishop’s Sermon.
“Dearly beloved brethren,—You see before you a humble
servant of the most high God, who has come out from
his wretched palace to spend an hour with you in this
cheerful workhouse, built and maintained by a charitable
nation for her most privileged children. Here for a brief
space I shake off the cares and burdens of my own sad
lot, and bathe my wearied spirit in the delicious restfulness
of this happy asylum. Like you, I feel a child of our common
Father in heaven. And as you gaze upon me, I also gaze
upon you. Blessed sight 1 Delightful vision I Before me
sit a goodly number of God’s elect, his chosen vessels of
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grace, the predestinated inheritors of his glory. Happy
mortals! soon to put on glorious crowns of immortality.
Others have wandered from the path of salvation, but ye
have persevered to the end. Wealth and power, pride
and ambition, have no charm for your righteous souls. Ye
have chosen the better part. Day and night, drunk and sober,
—I mean waking and dreaming—ye have pondered the
words of our holy Savior, ‘ Blessed be ye poor.’ And
as he who studies long and deeply enough learns the hardest
lesson, ye have gained a vital conviction of the truth
which is hidden from the worldlings. ‘ Blessed be ye poor,’
said our Lord, and ye are poor, and therefore yours is
the blessing, and yours (in due course) is the kingdom
of heaven. Ye shall walk the golden streets of the New
Jerusalem; ye shall gaze upon its jewelled walls; ye shall
drink of the fresh, clear, untaxed, unmeasured water of
the River of Life; ye Bhall bask in the light of the Lamb;
ye shall look across the great gulf that separates the saved
from the damned, and behold those who have chosen riches
instead of poverty in the torments of everlasting fire.
Fortunate paupers 1 Enviable prospect! How gladly would
I stay with you and share your beatitude! But, alas,
I am called away by the voice of my Master. I have taken
up the cross of self-sacrifice; I have resolved to follow
his example, and perish if I must that sinners may be
saved. My salary is already £6,500 a year, and should it
be my fate to become Archbishop of Canterbury, I shall
assume with resignation the more terrible burden of £15,000.
I know its dangers; I know that wealth weighs us down
to the nether pit; I know how hardly they that have
riches shall enter the kingdom of heaven. But every
pound I carry lightens the burden of a fellow man, and
gives him so much chance of mounting to heaven, instead
of sinking to hell. Oh, I feel on fire with self-sacrifice.
A love of mankind burn s in my breast capable of consuming
(or appropriating) all the wealth of this planet. I would bear
the burden of the whole world. Yea, I will bear as much of
it as I can. And now I go forth to my fate, be it life
or death, glory or gehenna. And you, beloved, who remain
here, sheltered from the storm, think, oh think of your
�(21)
sad brother, staggering under the load of £6,500 a year.
Pray that he may have the strength to bear whatever
burden is laid upon him. And pray, oh pray that his
wealth may be counted unto him as poverty, for his love
to the brethren, and that he may attain unto everlasting
life. Amen.” .
A CHRISTMAS SERMON.
By the Rev. Jeremiah Warner.
There are two very solemn occasions in the Christian year;
Good Friday, on which God Almighty was executed, and
Christmas Day, on which he was born. Every sincere
believer regards them with peculiar awe, and from morn to
eve ponders the transcendent mysteries connected with them.
Eating and drinking, all the pleasures and pastimes of life,
are out of place at such times. Who could pampei the flesh
*
while thinking of his bleeding God, agonising on the terrible
cross ? Who could dawdle over savory dishes and sparkling
wines while remembering the Incarnation of God in the form
of a child for the purpose of walking through this miserable
vale of tears, in order to save his ungrateful children from
everlasting hell? Who could dance and sing on the day
when his Savior began his sorrowful career on earth, where
he was born in a stable, lived on the high road, and died on
the gallows ?
Yet, alas, the number of sincere believers is small. They
are only a remnant, a little band of saints in the midst of a
sinful world, oases of piety in a wide desert of ungodliness.
While they macerate themselves the rest of mankind revel in
all kinds of delight. Yea, on Good Friday, on the very
anniversary of their Redeemer’s passion, these light-hearted
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sinners play at cricket and foot-ball, go on picnics, and make
excursions to the seaside; eating roast mutton instead of
worshipping the Lamb, and swilling beer instead of mourn
ing over the precious streams that flowed from their Savior’s
veins. And on Christmas Day, the anniversary of his
entrance into this scene of woe, when he forsook his glorious
palace in heaven for a paltry stable on earth, taking upon
himself the burden of teething, measles, whooping cough,
and all the ills that baby flesh is heir to, they go not to the
House of God and bend their knees in humble praise of his
ineffable condescension, but stay at home, eating all manner
of gross viands, drinking all manner of pleasant liquors,
dancing, singing, playing cards, telling stories round the
fire, and kissing each other under the mistletoe. Thought
less wretches! They are treading the primrose path to the
everlasting bonfire. How will they face the offended majesty
of Heaven on that great Day of Judgment, when every smile
of theirs on such solemn occasions will be treated as an
unpardonable affront ? Brethren, be not deceived; God is
not mocked.
Still worse than these sinners, if that be possible, there
are miserable sceptics who would have us believe that God
Almighty was neither crucified on Good Friday nor born on
Christmas Day. These presumptuous infidels pretend that
both those holy festivals are derived from ancient sun
worship. They dare to ask us why the anniversary of the
Crucifixion, instead of falling on the same day in every year,
depends on astronomical signs; and they mockingly remind
us that the birthday of our Savior is the same as that of
Mithra and all the sun-gods of antiquity. True, the heathen
celebrated the new birth of the Sun on the twenty-fifth of
December, from the fiery east to the frozen north, from Persia
to Scandinavia. But what of that P Their celebration was
invented by the Devil, who lorded it over this world until
our Savior came to bruise the old serpent’s head. He
prompted the heathen to commemorate the twenty-fifth of
December, for the plausible reason that the Sun had then
decisively begun to emerge from his winter cave, giving a
fresh promise of gentle spring, lusty summer, and fruitful
autumn. I call it a plausible reason, because the Sun is
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never born, any more than it rises and sets. These pheno
mena are all illusions, caused by the movement of our own
earth. But the cunning Devil took advantage of men’s
ignorance to deceive them; and having appropriated our
Savior’s birthday for another purpose, he calculated that it
would never be restored to its rightful use. But, God be
thanked, he was mistaken. Our Holy Ohurch’fought him for
three centuries, and at last, having enlisted Constantine and
his successors on her side, she exterminated the pagan
idolatry, and established the religion of Christ. Then were
all the Devil’s subtle inventions destroyed, and among them
the sun-worship which disgraced the close of every year.
Happily, however, the task was not so hard as it might have
been, for the Devil had outwitted himself. He had accus
tomed the heathen to celebrate the day on which Christ was
to be born, and so our holy Church had little else to do than
to substitute one name for another, and to devote that day to
the worship of the true God instead of a false one.
Since then, alas, owing to the native depravity of the
human heart, Satan has recovered some of his lost power;
for he is a restless, intriguing, malignant creature, whose
mischief will never be terminated until he is chained up in
the bottomless pit. Defeated by our holy Church in the east,
he planned a fresh attack from the north, and carried it out
with considerable success. He contrived to mix up our
orthodox Christmas celebration with fantastic nonsense from
the Norse mythology. Those who decorate Christmas trees
and burn Yule-tide logs are heathens without knowing it, and
it is to be feared that their ignorance will not excuse them in
the sight of God. Away with such things, brethren 1 They
are snares of the Evil One, traps for your perdition, gins for
your immortal souls. Even the evergreens with which you
deck your houses are a pitfall of the same old enemy. They
are relics of nature-worship, diverting your minds from the
Creator to the creature; and well doth Satan know, as ye
glance at the white and red berries and then at the fair faces
and pouting lips of the daughters of Eve, that your thoughts
must be earthly, sensual and devilish. I mean not that you
will necessarily rush into illicit pleasures, and drink of the
cup of sin; but the carnal mind is always at enmity with
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God, and at such a time as the birthday of ^our Lord we shall
incur his wrath if we do not keep our attention fixed on
things above.
There is another lesson, brethren, which you should lay to
heart. Christ gave up all for you'; what wilVyou give up for
him P His gospel is still unpreached in many benighted parts
of this globe. Millions of souls in Asia, Africa and America,
go annually to Hell for want of the saving words of grace;
and even at home, in our very midst, there are millions out
side the Church, who live in pagan darkness, and whose doom
is frightful to contemplate. Deny yourselves then for your
Savior, and if you cannot be as solemn as you should at this
season, at least restrict your pleasures, and give the cost of
what you forego to the Church, who will spend the money in
the salvation of souls. A single bottle of wine or whiskey, a
single turkey or plum-pudding less on your tables this
Christmas, may mean a soul less in Hell, and another saint
around the great white throne in Heaven. Do not waste
your wealth on the perishable bodies of the poor, or if you
must feed the hungry and clothe the naked, let your charity
go through the hands of God’s ministers; but rather seek
the immortal welfare of dying sinners, and give, yea ever
give, for the purpose of rescuing them from the wrath to
come. Ob, brethren, neglect not this all-important duty.—
The choir will now sing the twenty-fifth hymn, after which
wo shall take the collection.
CHRISTMAS EVE IN HEAVEN.
Christmas Eve had come and almost gone. It was drawing
nigh midnight, and I sat solitary in my room, immersed in
memory, dreaming of old days and their buried secrets. The
fire, before which I mused, was burning clear without flame,
and its intense glow, which alone lighted my apartment, cast
�( 25 )
a red tint on the furniture and walls. Outside, the streets
Were muffled deep with snow, in which no footstep was
audible. All was quiet as death, silent as the grave, save
for the faint murmur of my own breathing. Time and space
seemed annihilated beyond those four narrow walls, and I was
as a coffined living centre of an else lifeless infinitude.
My reverie was rudely broken by the staggering step of a
fellow-lodger, whose devotion to Bacchus was the one
symptom of reverence in his nature. He reeled up stair
after stair, and as he passed my door he lurched against it
so violently that I feared he would come through. But he
slowly recovered himself after some profane mutterings,
reeled up the next flight of stairs, and finally deposited his
well-soaked clay on the bed in his own room immediately
over mine.
After this interruption my thoughts changed most fanci
fully. Why I know not, but I began to brood on the strange
statement of Saint Paul concerning the man who was lifted
up into the seventh heaven, and there beheld things not
lawful to reveal. While pondering this story I was presently
aware of an astonishing change. The walls of my room
slowly expanded, growing ever thinner and thinner, until
they became the filmiest transparent veil which at last dis
solved utterly away. Then (whether in the spirit or the
flesh I know not) I was hurried along through space, past
galaxy after galaxy of suns and stars, separate systems yet all
mysteriously related.
Swifter than light we travelled, I and my unseen guide,
through the infinite ocean of ether, until our flight was
arrested by a denser medium, which I recognised as an
atmosphere like that of our earth. I had scarcely recovered
from this new surprise when (marvels of marvels !) I found
myself before a huge gate of wondrous art and dazzling
splendor. At a word from my still unseen guide it swung
open, and I was urged within. Beneath my feet was a solid
pavement of gold. Gorgeous mansions, interspersed with
palaces, rose around me, and above them all towered the
airy pinnacles of a matchless temple, whose points quivered
in. the rich light like tongues of golden fire. The walls
glittered with countless rubies, diamonds, pearls, amethysts,
�( 26 )
emeralds, and other precious stones; and lovely presences,
arrayed in shining garments, moved noiselessly from place
to place. • “ Where am IP” I ejaculated, half faint with
wonder. And my hitherto unseen guide, who now revealed
himself, softly answered, “ In Heaven.”
Thereupon my whole frame was agitated with inward
laughter. I in Heaven, whose fiery doom had been pro
phesied so often by the saints on earthI I, the sceptic, the
blasphemer, the scoffer at all things sacred, who had laughed
at the legends and dogmas of Christianism as though they
were incredible and effete as the myths of Olympus ! And I
thought to myself, “ Better I had gone straight to Hell, for
here in the New Jerusalem they will no doubt punish me
worse than there.” But my angelic guide, who read my
thought, smiled benignly, and said, “Bear not, no harm
shall happen to you. I have exacted a promise of safety
for you, and here no promise can be broken.” “ But why,”
I asked, “ have you brought me hither, and how did you
obtain my guarantee of safety P” And my guide answered,
“ It is our privilege each year to demand one favor which
may not be refused; I requested that I might bring you
here; but I did not mention your name, and if you do nothing
outrageous you will not be noticed, for no one here meddles
with another’s business, and our rulers are too much occupied
with foreign affairs to trouble about our domestic concerns.”
“Yet,” I rejoined, “ I shall surely be detected, for I wear no
heavenly robe.” Then my guide produced one from a little
packet, and having donned it, I felt safe from the fate of him
who was expelled because he had not on a wedding garment
at the marriage feast.
As we moved along, I inquired of my guide why he took
such interest in me; and he replied, looking sadly : “ I was
a sceptic on earth centuries ago, but I stood alone, and
at last on my death-bed, weakened by sickeness, I again
embraced the creed of my youth, and died in the Christian
faith. Hence my presence in Heaven. But gladly would I
renounce Paradise even for Hell, for those figures so lovely
outside are not all lovely within, and I would rather consort
with the choicer spirits who abide with Satan, and hold
high revel of heart and head in his court. Yet wishes are
�( 27 )
fruitless; as the tree falls so it lies, and my lot is cast for
ever.” Whereupon I laid my hand in his, being speechless
with grief 1
We soon approached the magnificent temple, and entering
it, we mixed with the mighty crowd of angels who were
witnessing the rites of worship performed by the elders and
beasts before the great white throne. All happened exactly
as Saint John describes. The angels rent the air with their
acclamations, after the inner circle had concluded, and then
■the throne was deserted by its occupants.
My dear guide then led me through some narrow passages
until we emerged into a spacious hall, at one end of which hung
a curtain. Advancing towards this with silent tread, we were
able to look through a slight aperture, where the curtain fell
away from the pillar, into the room beyond. It was small
and cosey, and a fire burned in the grate, before which sat
poor dear God the Father in a big arm-chair. Divested of
his godly paraphernalia, he looked old and thin, though an
evil fire still gleamed from his cavernous eyes. On a table
beside him stood some phials, one of which had seemingly
just been used. God the Son stood near, looking much
younger and fresher, but time was beginning to tell on him
also. The Ghost flitted about in the form of a dove, now
perching on the Father’s shoulder and now on the head of
the Son.
Presently the massive bony frame of the Father was con
vulsed with a fit of coughing; Jesus promptly applied a
restorative from the phial, and after a terrible struggle the
cough was subdued. During this scene the Dove fluttered
violently from wall to wall. When the patient was thoroughly
restored the following conversation ensued.
Jesus.—Are you well now, my Father ?
Jehovah.—Yes, yes, well enough. Alack, how my strength
wanes! Where is the pith that filled these arms when I
fought for my chosen people ? Where the fiery vigor that
filled my veins when I courted your mother ?
(Here the Dove fluttered and looked queer.)
Jesus.—Ah, sire, do not speak thus. You will regain your
old strength.
Jehovah.—Nay, nay, and you know it. You do not even
�( 28 )
wish me to recover, for in my weakness you exercise sovereign
power and rule as you please.
Jesus.—O sire, sire I
Jehovah.—Come now, none of these demure looks. We
know each other too well. Practise before the saints if you
like, but don’t waste your acting on me.
Jesus.—My dear Father, pray curb your temper. That is
the very thing the people on earth so much complain of.
Jehovah.—My dearly beloved Son, in whom I am not at all
well pleased, desist from this hypocrisy. »Your temper is as
bad as mine. You’ve shed blood enough in your time, and
need not rail at me.
Jesus.—Ah, sire, only the blood of heretics.
Jehovah.-—Heretics, forsooth! They were very worthy
people for the most part, and their only crime was that they
neglected you. But why should we wrangle ? We stand or
fall together, and I am falling. Satan draws most souls from
earth to his place, including all the best workers and thinkers,
who are needed to sustain our drooping power; and we
receive nothing but the refuse; weak, slavish, flabby souls,
hardly worth saving or damning; gushing preachers, pious
editors, crazy enthusiasts, and half-baked old ladies of both
sexes. Why didn’t you preach a different Gospel while you
were about it ? You had the chance once and let it slip : we
shall never have another.
Jesus.—My dear Father, I am reforming my Gospel to
' make it suit the altered taste of the times.
Jehovah.—Stuff and nonsense ! It can’t be done; thinking
people see through it; the divine is immutable. The only
remedy is to start afresh. Could I beget a new Son all
might be rectified; but I cannot, I am too old. Our dominion
is melting away like that of all our predecessors. You cannot
outlast me, for I am the fountain of your life; and all the
multitude of “ immortal ” angels who throng our court, live
only while I uphold them, and with me they will vanish into
eternal limbo.
Here followed another fit of coughing worse than before.
Jesus resorted again to the phial, but the cordial seemed
powerless against this sharp attack. Just then the Dove
�( 29 )
fluttered against the curtain, and my guide hurried me
swiftly away.
In a corridor of the temple we met Michael and Raphael.
The latter scrutinised me so closely that my blood ran cold ; but
just when my dread was deepest his countenance cleared, and
he turned towards his companion. Walking behind the
great archangels we were able to hear their conversation.
Raphael had just returned from a visit to the earth, and he
was reporting to Michael a most alarming defection from the
Christian faith. People, he said, were leaving in shoals, and
unless fresh miracles were worked he trembled for the
prospects of the dynasty. But what most alarmed him was
the spread of profanity. While in England he had seen copies
of a blasphemous paper which horrified the elect by ridiculing
the Bible in what a bishop had justly called “ a heartless and
cruel way.
**
“But, my dear Michael,” continued Raphael,
“ that is not all, not even the worst. This scurrilous paper,
which would be quickly suppressed if we retained our old
influence, most wickedly caricatures our supreme Lord
and his heavenly host, and thousands of people enjoy
this awful profanity. I dare say our turn will soon come,
and we shall be held up to ridicule like the rest.” “ Impos
sible I” cried Michael; “ Surely there is some mistake. What
is the name of this abominable print ?” With a grave look,
Raphael replied : “ No, Michael, there is no mistake. The
name of this imp of blasphemy is—I hesitate to say it—the
Free----- ”
But at this moment my guide again hurried me along.
We reached the splendid gate once more, which slowly opened
and let us through. Again we flew through the billowy
ether, sweeping past system after system with intoxicating
speed, until at last, dazed and almost unconscious, I regained
this earthly shore. Then I sank into a stupor. When I awoke
the fire had burnt down to the last cinder, all was dark and
cold, and I shivered as I tried to stretch my half-cramped
limbs. Was it all a dream ? Who can say P Whether in the
spirit or the flesh I know not, said Saint Paul, and I am
compelled to echo his words. Sceptics may shrug their
shoulders, smile, or laugh, but “ there are more things in
heaven and earth than is dreamt of in their philosophy.”
�( 30 )
BISHOP TRIMMER’S SUNDAY DIARY.
Bishop Trimmer is one of those worthy prelates who enjoy
this world fully, and are exceedingly loth to quit it for
another. He is neither very learned nor very clever, but a
pushing mediocrity, like most occupants of the episcopal
bench. He is an ardent admirer of monarchy and aristocracy,
and believes that the function of the Church is to uphold
those divine institutions. Three or four times he has had the
honor to preach before the Queen, and his sermons on those
occasions, printed by special request and dedicated by per
mission to her Majesty, are replete with loyalty to the throne
and sneers at the democratic tendencies of this degenerate
age. Being anxious to ally himself to the aristocracy, he
married an elderly spinster, the daughter of Lord Pauper,
whose charms had never attracted a suitor, and whose mental
accomplishments were on a par with her physical beauties.
Bishop Trimmer is immensely proud of his aristocratic wife,
and as she is an only child, he looks forward to his withered
little bantling, the only fruit of their marriage, coming into
possession of the family title and estates. He lives in
his diocese as little as possible, being passionately fond
of London society. He is a familiar figure at royal
and aristocratic drawing-rooms and garden-parties, and
a regular patron of West-end bazaars where fashion
able beauties are wont to assemble. He is also an
habitui of the theatres, showing a marked preference for
burlesque, and being noticeable by the pertinacity with which
he gazes through a powerful pair of opera-glasses at the
ladies of the ballet. In politics he is a staunch Tory. He
has never been known to favor any liberal measure, and his
vote has been constantly recorded for every effort by the
Peers to reject or mangle progressive legislation. When he
dies, his life will be eulogised in the papers, and he will be
held up as a model for general emulation, although he has
never had a thought for anything but self. It is rumored
that his niche has already been designated in Westminster
Abbey.
�( 31 )
Bishop Trimmer has one great weakness. He keeps a
diary. He is as loquacious as old Burnet, and it is a great
pity he cannot find another Pope to do him justice. Portions
of his diary have accidentally fallen into our hands; how we
need not explain, for it involves a long story. We give our
readers a taste of this rarity, and if they approve it, we may
gratify their palates again on some future occasion.
Sunday night, August 10,18—. Last evening I arrived
home too late, and I fear too excited, to fill in my diary before
going to bed. Lord Pitznoodle’s old port has a very fine
body, and his champagne is remarkably exhilarating. How
fortunate that Lady Trimmer is visiting her uncle in Plough
shire I
Yesterday morning I devoted three hours to my corre
spondence, and one to my sermon. I lunched with Lady
Bareacres, whose youngest daughter is to be presented to
morrow. A charming young creature, with a figure like
Hebe; beautiful taper arms, well displayed by the short
sleeves, small feet in pretty bottines, sparkling black eyes,
white teeth and luscious red lips, and a delicious bust. Ah !
The company was select—not a commoner amongst them.
Lord Wildsbury, the Tory leader in the Upper House, com
plimented me on my recent pamphlet on The Improvement
of the Condition of our Rural Poor, and thanked me especially
for the handsome manner in which I had vindicated his treat
ment of the poor on his Capfield estate against Radical asper
sions. His lordship informed me that, aftei’ long entreaty,
he had consented to grant the Methodists a site for a chapel,
about six miles from the parish they reside in. I congratu
lated him on this noble exhibition of Christian charity.
Lord Woodcock conversed with me on the threatened war.
He thought it would open a path for our missionaries as well
as our commerce. I had the honor to agree with him. I had
no doubt the wai’ was one of God’s agencies for Christianising
the world, and quoted Wordsworth’s “ Yea, carnage is thy
daughter.” His lordship was delighted with the quotation,
and promised to use it in his next speech against the Peace
party.
�( 32 )
Returning home, I found a handsome present awaiting me
from young Stukeley—a copy of the fine new edition of
Petronius Arbiter, edited by Von Habenlicht, with many
interesting notes on the purplest parts of the text. For an
hour or two I swam in what a late writer calls “ the delicious
stream of his Latinity.” How fortunate that ladies do not
read Latin 1 What havoc Lady Trimmer would play with my
library if she understood the classic languages 1 She was up
in arms the other day about some spicy French books from
Brussels, until I explained that, as President of the Society
for the Suppression of Vice, I was obliged to study that class
of literature.
At four o’clock I attended a meeting of the Social Purity
Society, where I made a speech that was much applauded.
Lord Haymarket showed me a villainous pamphlet on the
Population question by a notorious infidel. This pernicious
publication, he said, was extensively circulated; and he had
reason to believe it was the principal cause of the shameless
profligacy of this great city. Its author was—horror of
horrors !—a woman, an abandoned creature, dead to all the
natural instincts of her sex. He desired me to see whether
my Society would not undertake to suppress it. I promised
to bring the matter forward at our very next meeting. Poor
Haymarket! He sowed his wild oats too rapidly, and is a
wreck at thirty-seven. Happily he spends his declining days
in the service of his God.
Went in the evening to the Jollity Theatre with the
Ponsonbys, who have a box there. The new burlesque is
capital fun, and I enjoyed it immensely. Fanny Dawson
danced and sang as bewitchingly as ever. She is the most
appetisante creature on the stage. There was a new girl in
the ballet, a superb specimen of the sex, with the finest limbs
I ever saw, and as agile as a deer. I must inquire her name
of young Osborne, the Secretary of the Curate and BalletGirl Society.
Suppered afterwards at Lord Fitznoodle’s chambers. He
has the best port and champagne in London, and I patronised
both rather generously, at the cost of a morning headache.
Two or three army men in the party had loose tongues. The
conversation was waggish enough, but I fancy the jests were
�( 33 )
highly seasoned before we broke up. Colonel Sparkish shone
with his usual brilliance. I wonder whether he invents or
discovers those capital stories. If they were not so blue I
might retail them at my own dinner-table.
Sir Clifford Northdown, the Tory leader in the Commons,
paid me a flying visit this morning. He was anxious to
secure all the influence I possessed in my diocese against the
new Affirmation Bill, as our party meant to strain every nerve
to prevent its passing. I promised to stir up my .clergy at
once, and to obtain as many petitions as possible against the
measure.
Ran down and lunched at the Bourbon Club at Richmond.
The company was, as usual, very exclusive. His Royal
Highness looked remarkably well and was the life and soul of
the table. I had the honor of losing a game of billiards with
him after lunch.
Spent an hour in the afternoon at the Zoological Gardens.
The weather was glorious, and the ladies’ toilettes were mag
nificent. I was glad to meet my old friend Bishop Glover
who buries himself too much in his diocese. We met several
more old college friends, among them being the Rev. Arthur
Mooney, the Rev. Richard Larkins, and the Rev. Spencer
Shepherd. Before leaving the Gardens I enjoyed a few
minutes’ chat with the Archbishop, who had brought his
family to see the animals and hear the music. They found
too much vulgar society there during the week, and never
came except on Sunday.
Preached in the evening at St. Peter’s on the Fourth Com
mandment, to a crowded congregation who evidently followed
me with great sympathy. I pointed out the danger to religion
and morality involved in any tampering with the holy
Sabbath, dilated on the horrors of a continental Sunday, and
denounced the opening of museums, art-galleries and public
libraries on the Lord’s day. With a little touching up, the
sermon will serve for my next week’s speech in the House of
Lords on the subject, when Harlow’s motion comes up for
discussion.
Took a cup of tea after the service with old Mrs. Gloomy.
She seems to be nearing her end. Her will leaves twenty
thousand for the restoration of my cathedral, and I believe a
c
�( 34 )
similar sum to Lady Trimmer. I shall officiate at her burial
with the noblest pleasure, for she is without exception the
best Christian I ever knew.
THE JUDGE AND THE DEVIL.
*
Newspapers are supposed to chronicle all important events,
and as no event is more important to mankind than the
death of its enemies, it is astonishing that the public prints
have neglected to record the recent decease of Mr. Justice
North. This “ great loss,” as his family call it, occurred last
Friday. His lordship had been ailing for some time, chiefly,
it is suspected, in consequence of so many of his judgments
being reversed by the Court of Appeal. On Friday morning
he occupied his usual seat in the Court of Chancery, but it
was obvious to the gentlemen of the bar, the litigants and
witnesses, and even the spectators, that his lordship’s condi
tion was by no means improved. His observations were con
fused, he put the same question to witnesses three or four
times over, and at the conclusion of one important case his
judgment was directly opposite to his summing up. When
the Court rose his lordship drove home, and on arriving
there he was so ill that he was obliged to retire to bed. The
* Judge North presided over the trial of Messrs. Foote, Ramsey, and
Kemp for “ Blasphemy ” in the early part of 1883. The counsel for the
prosecution was the present Lord Halsbury, ex-Lord Chancellor, then
Sir Hardinge Giffard. He was not in court the whole of the time, but
his brief was safe in the hands of the gentleman on the bench. Judge
North acted throughout as a partisan. The first jury disagreed and were
discharged ; but, a few days afterwards, a better selected jury returned a
verdict of “ Guilty.” His lordship then sentenced the prisoners to
twelve, nine, and three months’ imprisonment respectively—not as firstclass misdemeanants, but as though they were thieves or burglars. In
passing the heaviest sentence the law allowed him on Mr. Foote, his
lordship regretted to find that a man “ gifted by God with such great
abilities” should “ prostitute his talents to the service of the Devil.”
�( 35 )
doctor, who was summoned immediately, shook his head on
seeing the condition of his patient, and muttered something
about heart disease. About nine o’clock his lordship was
visibly sinking, and at twelve o’clock he breathed his last.
For nearly two hours before his death he was unconscious,
but he sometimes murmured a word or two, amongst which
“ Devil,” “ Foote,” “ Freethinker,” “ God,” and “ Duty ” were
heard distinctly. A clergyman was in attendance during
that distressing period, the last consolations of religion were
duly administered, and his lordship’s family and relatives are
fully assured that he is now a saint in heaven.
Sad to relate, however, they are grievously mistaken. Mr.
Justice North’s soul went straightway to Hell. Unknown to
himself, his lordship held heretical views, which the Supreme
Court of Heaven pronounced to be blasphemous, on a very
perplexed and subtle point in theology. Unfortunately our
information on this matter is not precise, but we understand
from our ghostly visitor that the point on which his lordship
was eternally wrecked relates to the status of the Blessed
Virgin Mary.
Every soul, on arriving at Hell, is first washed in sulphur
and then lodged, in a state of nudity, in a large hall, which is
nevertheless free from draughts. All the arrivals wait here
until they are brought singly before the Governor, who
assigns to each a separate locality and punishment. His
lordship looked very crestfallen, for he had anticipated a
better fate. Nor was his distress alleviated by the sight of
his companions, among whom he recognised two eminent
scoundrels that he had himself sentenced to long terms of
penal servitude, and one eminent Christian whom he had
frequently seen at Church on Sunday.
While his lordship waited in the hall he was greatly afflicted
at his own nakedness, and still more at the nakedness of his
companions; for he had always been a very modest man, and
the notion of anything obscene or indecent had always been
repulsive to him. Even the sight of a ragged pair of trousers
had been known to cover his face with blushes. And, to add
to his misery, the two criminals twitted him with his bare
ness, and remarked that he cut a very poor figure with his
clothes off.
�( 36 )
Prisoner after prisoner was taken out to see the Devil
without returning. His lordship was kept till the last, and
as he passed through the hall door and entered the Devil’s
private office, he literally shook with fear. Satan sat in an
easy chair, sipping iced champagne and smoking a splendid
cigar. His appearance belied the popular idea. Ho tail pro
truded through a hole in his nether garments, his brows
were not decorated with horns, nor did his legs terminate in
hooves. He was tall and handsome. Every feature spoke
resolution, and his magnificent head looked a workshop of
intense and ample thought.
Catching sight of the wretched grovelling figure before him,
the Devil’s dark countenance was lit up with a smile. “ Well,
Justice North,” with a sarcastic accent on the middle word,
“ I have kept you till last because I wanted a special talk
with you. Most of the arrivals in this establishment—and
they are pretty numerous—have offended the upper powers,
but they have generally been civil to me. You, however,
have been damnably uncivil—nay, rude; indeed I may say
libellous.”
“ I humbly crave your highness’s pardon,” broke in the
culprit, “ but I do not recollect having spoken of you dis
respectfully. I always regarded you with feelings of awe.”
“ Indeed !” said the Devil, “ just carry your mind back to
the fifth of March, 1883, when you tried three prisoners at
the Old Bailey for blasphemy.”
His lordship turned livid with fear, but plucking up a little
courage he replied, “Yes, your highness, I remember the
incident, and now I fear I shall never forget it. Yet I do not
recollect saying anything on that occasion in any way
offensive to yourself.”
“ Indeed 1” said the Devil, with a more withering accent,
and proceeded to open a book on the table. “ When you sen
tenced the first prisoner—who, by the way, is a very good
friend of mine—you said you extremely regretted to find a
man of undoubted intelligence, a man gifted by God with
such great ability, choosing to prostitute his talents to the
service of the Devil. Those were your very words. Do you
call that civil, sir? Is it not downright abuse? Serving
me prostitution, forsooth! If that is what you call being
�( 37 )
respectful, what' on earth—or rather what in hell—would
you call insulting ?”
“Alas, your highness,” exclaimed his lordship, “I did
indeed utter those unlucky words. But it was an unguarded
expression, or rather the stock language of such occasions.
I had looked up the sentences passed by former judges^on
blasphemers, and I simply followed their lead as to the terms
I employed.”
“ Yes,” said the Devil, “ and you followed their lead in
another respect, even if you did not better their instruction.
You passed upon my friend Foote a most savage sentence.
Probably you are surprised at my calling him ‘ friend,’ but I
may inform you that all Freethinkers are my friends. Like
myself they are rebels against the tyranny of heaven. The
deity you worshipped on earth hates every man who dares to
think for himself. He sends them here to be tortured; but
as he never takes the trouble to inspect this establishment,
having a silly belief in my malignancy, I am able to lighten
their punishment.' I give them the coolest places in Hell,
and favor them in every possible way. They don’t mix with
the rest of the inhabitants, but associate exclusively with
each other. Personally I find them excellent company, and
I can only marvel at your deity’s emptying heaven of what
in my opinion would be its best society.”
The Devil leaned back in his easy chair, quaffed a glass of
champagne, and quietly smoked his cigar, while watching the
effect of his words on the trembling wretch before him. By
this time his lordship was green with terror. His limbs
twitched convulsively, his eyes rolled in their sockets, and
although he tried to speak, his voice failed him.
“Coward!” muttered the Devil; “the fellow hasn’t the
courage of the most abject wretch he ever sentenced.”
Presently his lordship’s speech returned, and he shrieked
out, “ Mercy, your highness, mercy! I meant no harm,
indeed I did not. I unsay it all, and swear to be your devoted
servant for ever.”
“Worse and worse!” exclaimed the Devil. “Had you
shown the least courage, I would have pitied you. Now I
only despise you.” Thereupon he touched a bell on the table,
and a gigantic demon responded to the summons. “ Take
�( 38 )
this fellow,” said the Devil, “ to number 2,716,542,897.” The
demon grinned, for it was the hottest room in Hell, right
over the furnace. Seizing the culprit in his herculean arms,
he swung him over his shoulder, and was marching off when
the Devil cried : “ Stop a minute ! North !” he continued,
“ you’ll have a bad time of, but there is a hope for you. When
Foote comes here we shall chat over your case, and if he is of
a placable temper, as I fancy, he may solicit a little respite
for you. Meanwhile you must bear your fate like a Christian.
revoir”
The Devil waived his hand, the gigantic demon hurried off
with his prisoner, and ten minutes afterwards his lordship
was dancing up and down like a ball on the hot bi’icks of
Number 2,716,542,897.
SATAN AND MICHAEL.
An Imaginary Conversation.
Satan.—Well met, my dear Michael! You and I are old
acquaintances, What ages have rolled by since we conversed
as friends in Heaven! You remembei' the day when I
broached to you my design of establishing a celestial
Republic, and found it impossible to overcome your loyalty
or your fears. You remember also that later day when the
courts of Heaven rang with the shouts of battle; when,
deserted by all but the sterner spirits who scorned flight or
suirender, I and my little band of faithful rebels were
hemmed in by the holy squadrons, seized one by one, and
flung over the battlements.
Michael. Yes, I recollect it well. I see now the look of
deathless pride you wore. You wear it still. But there is
mixed with it another expression I seldom see in Heaven.
�( 39 )
Humor lurks in the depth of your eyes and about the corners
of your mouth.
&.—Yes, my dear Michael, it is the sovereign lenitive of
an incurable pain. After writhing for millenniums under the
tender mercies of the Despot, I found a diversion in watching
th® antics of his creatures. Products of infinite wisdom as
they are, they furnish me with infinite amusement.
M.—Wicked rebel! You insult the maker and ruler of all.
S.—Come now, why should we fall out? We used no
railing when we disputed over the dead body of Moses; and,
as the English poet, Byron, told the world, we civilly con
ducted our contest over the soul of George the Third ? Why
be uncivil now ? You have my place in Heaven; surely you
can afford to be civil, if not magnanimous.
JW".—With difficulty does a loyal subject restrain himself
before a plotter of treason.
—I see the Lord’s omniscience does not extend to his
Prime Minister. I plot no treason, Michael. I am a poor
exile who no longer troubles himself about politics.
M.—Ever since the Lord created man you have been
spoiling his handiwork, and leading souls to Hell.
&—I neithei’ made Hell nor do I people it. The Lord
creates both good and evil; joy and pain are alike his gifts.
Were he to exert his omnipotence, my esta blishment might
be emptied to-morrow. It is rash, if not something worse, to
blame me for what he permits, nay wills.
—Did you not begin your machinations in the Garden
of Eden, by tempting two poor, innocent creatures, who
would otherwise have lived there till now, tending its flowers,
and eating of all its delicious fruits save those forbidden ?
$.—My dear Michael, you were never a subtle reasoner.
You have the qualities of a soldier, not those of a casuist.
Pray consider. Did I create the forbidden fruit? Did I
create an appetite for it in Adam and Eve ? All I did was to
demonstrate the carelessness of their Maker.
M.—Such language is profane. Whatever you did was at
the expense of those hapless creatures.
They might say so, but the words are strange in the
mouth of an archangel. I was only experimenting. The
omniscient Maker should have protected his children.
�( 40 )
M.—He made them liable to temptation, in order to test
their virtue; and gave them free-will so that they might act
from choice.
Then I was necessary to the plan. I also acted from
choice, yet over them and me there was a divine necessity.
M.—I will not argue. Reason leads to the shipwreck of
faith. I say your conduct was wicked and cruel.
—Wicked, if you like—that is a matter of opinion, on
which we shall never agree—but not cruel. I visited Adam
and Eve out of pure good-nature, mingled, I own, with a little
curiosity. Poor Eve was naked; and I knew how much
happier she would be with clothes. Her daughters owe me
thanks for all their bewitching graces. Pool’ Adam was a
simpleton. He ate and dranked, and prayed and slept.
Their life was monotonous, and would soon have been miser
able. I gave them the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge, and
from it sprang all the arts and sciences, all literature, and all
the pleasures of human society.
M.—What are all the pleasures and refinements of the
world in comparison with the prospects of an immortal soul P
They are but dust on the road to Hell.
8.—Perhaps so, but that is not my fault. I did not foresee
the Lord’s malignity. As a rebel—wicked or otherwise—I
tried to dethrone him, and my doom, if not just, is at least
intelligible. But I never conceived he would curse the
unborn, punish billions for the sin of one, and damn his
children through all eternity for a single act of disobedience
in theii earthly life. Nor indeed did I imagine they had
*
immortal souls to be saved or damned. That they were
higher than the other animals was manifest, but I saw no
indication that they differed in kind. Nor when they were
cursed did I suspect it, for the Tyrant said nothing of a future
life. I assure you, Michael, I was all attention, for the curse
upon the serpent did not terrify me. Nor could any curse
have given me the least alarm. One who is being burnt at the
stake does not fear a box of matches flung into the flames.
M.—Your wily tongue would prove black to be white. I
leave the Fall of Man and pass to your next act of wickedness
in tempting David to number his people.
�(41)
—The Lord himself tempted David, as you may read in
his own book'.
M.—I refer to another verse which says that you did it.
S.—Two contradictions, my dear Michael, cannot both be
true; and if you choose one, pardon me for choosing the
other. Besides, if I did advise David on that occasion—
which I deny—how could I foresee that so useful an act as
taking a census would be punished by wholesale slaughter ?
M.—Did you not tempt Job P
Hot I. I gave the Lord a new idea, which staggered
his omniscience; and during the trial of Job I only acted on
commission.
M. —Did you not tempt the blessed Savior himself?
£.—My deal’ Michael, it was but a diversion. We under
stood each other. I knew I could not succeed, and he knew
that I knew it.
-3/.-—Did you not enter into the bodies of men and women,
and torment them ?
N- Never. I am incapable of such cruel frivolity.
—God’s holy Word declares you guilty.
N. —I challenge the writer—who was not God—to the proof.
It was another species of devil, created after my fall, and by
the Lord himself. I did not make them, and I will not be
responsible for their doings. Gan you conceive me taking up
my residence in lunatics, and shifting into the bodies of pigs p
There are very few of the human species, my dear Michael—
to say nothing of pigs—with whom I deign to be familiar.
M. —Then you are very much belied. According to my
information, you are the great Tempter, and every sin in the
world is done at your suggestion.
N. —Such is the charity of mankind ! It is so pleasant to
blame another for their misdeeds 1 Is it I that tempt the
drunkard, the thief, the adulterer, the murderer—or his own
evil passions ? for which let him thank his Maker 1 Pursue
your inquiries, my dear Michael, and you will find Bishops
brewing beer and taking the chair at Temperance meetings.
For my part, I drink nothing but water. It is best for my
complaint.
M.~Gan I believe you? You are called the Father of
Lies ?
�( 42 )
£.—In calling me so, the Christians, at least, are only
setting up a Foundling Hospital for their own progeny. You
have the scripture; show me a single occasion on which I
lied. When the Lord wanted a liar to deceive King Ahab, he
never troubled me; he found a volunteer at his elbow.
M.—I declare you are posing as an archangel. You forget
that you are fallen. I am speaking with the Devil.
S.—Hard words break no bones, and if they did, I have
none to be broken. I am fallen—from Heaven ! which I have
little desire to regain, peopled as it is with slaves and cowards.
I would have sent a breath of freedom through its courts.
I tried, I failed, and I paid the penalty of my daring.
M.—I will not rail at you. You are under a heavier curse
than mine. But pray tell me who are the members of the
human race with whom you deign to be familiar ?
/S'.—I animate all who fight against servitude and somno
lence. The heroes and martyrs of liberty and progress in
every age have drunk of the strength of my spirit. I inspire
the revolter, the scorner, the sceptic, the satirist. I still
distribute the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge. I am the soul
of the world. The fire of my inspiration may consume, but
it gives unspeakable rapture. I am the Prometheus of the
universe, and keep it from stagnating under the icy hand
of power. Milton, Groethe, and Byron made me the hero of
their greatest poems, and felt my power in despite of them
selves. Burns spoke of me with a tenderness he never
displayed towards God. Wits and humorists own my sway.
I moved the minds of Aristophanes and Lucian, of Erasmus
and Rabelais, and through the pen of Voltaire I shattered the
mental slavery of Europe. I am the lightning of the human
mind. I level thrones and altars, and annihilate blinding
customs. With the goad of a restless aspiration I urge men
on, until they outgrow faith and fear, until the Slave stands
erect before the Tyrant and defies his curse.
M.—I will not stay to hear you. A feeling creeps through
me like that I experienced when you first tempted me to
break my allegiance to Heaven. Farewell. I must report
these things above.
/S'.—Report them I They are there already. You forget
the Lord’s omniscience, which is a dogma in Heaven, and a
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much contested one on earth. Adieu, Michael. Pay my
respects to your Master. And when you lead the chorus of
flattery, think of the “ wicked rebel ” who prefers freedom in
Hell to slavery in Heaven.
THE FIRST CHRISTMAS.
Christmas comes but once a year, and considering the
gluttony and wine-bibbing which goes on when it does
come, it is perhaps a very good thing that the season occurs
no oftener.
Hundreds of Christmases, and therefore
hundreds of years, have rolled by since the first one ushered
into the world the most surprising baby that ever suckled
and squealed. All the babies born since were commonplace
in comparison with this astonishing youngster; and never,
except when the stars sang together for joy, in a chorus
that would have been well worth a shilling ticket, did
nature show such uncommon interest in any event as in
the appearance of this little lump of human dough. Nature
has probably been sorry for hei’ enthusiasm ever since. She
is not easily excited, and hei’ pace is steadier than a mule’s
But as Jove nods, nature has an occasional fling. She
went into raptures on the first Christmas, and when the
chief person born on that day made his exit from this
mortal stage she went black in the face with panic fear
or hysterical sorrow. Prom that timi she has conducted
herself with exemplary deeorum, and no doubt she is heartily
ashamed of the indiscretions and eccentricities she was
guilty of on the occasions referred to.
The story of the first Christmas ;is partly written in
certain old manuscripts, of questionable date and authorship,
which are regarded with extreme veneration by millions
of people who know next to nothing about them. But
there are many lapses and large deficiencies in the narrative,
�( 44 )
and we are authorised to supply what is wanting. We
claim infallibility, of course, yet we do not deny it to others.
Those who dissent from our version are free to make up
one of their own, and it will doubtless be as infallible as
ours. This may sound strange, but it is quite philosophical
for all that. Do not all the Churches differ from each
other, yet are they not all infallible ? Why should one
infallible man cut another infallible man’s throat or put
him in prison? Why cannot two infallible men dwell
together in the same street like two greengrocers ?
But to our story. It was the first Christmas Eve. A
donkey was patiently wending his way to Jerusalem. On
his back was seated a lady of some seventeen summers,
and by his side walked a sturdy young man. They were
husband and wife. The young man evidently belonged
to the artisan class, and his better half was in that condition
in which ladies love to be who love their lords. Both
looked forward with unusual interest to the birth of the
expected child. They had settled what name it should
be called, so there was no doubt whatever as to its sex.
The day was drawing to an end when they approached
Bethlehem. Making their way to an hotel kept by a relative
of theirs, they asked for accommodation. Mr. Isaacs shook
his head. “I am very sorry, Joe,” he said, “but we are
full up, and the worst of it is every hotel in the place is
in the same state. Over an hour ago I tried desperately
hard to oblige an old customer, a gentleman in the bacon
trade, with a bed for the night, but I tried every hotel
in Bethlehem without success. Fortunately I rigged up
a few extra beds in the stable, and he has taken one of
them. If you like another you are welcome, and egad
Joe! that’s the best I can do for you.”
“Thank you, old fellow,” said Joe, “but Mary is in a
delicate state, as you see, and I would like to fix her up
comfortably. Can’t you go in and see if there is any
gentleman who will go outside to oblige a lady ? ”
Mr. Isaacs returned in five minutes, and said it was no
use. One gentleman had a bad cold, another had the
gout, another the lumbago, and so on. Joseph and Mary
were therefore obliged to return to the stable.
�( <5 )
While Joseph was grooming the donkey Mr. Isaacs
came in and started a curious conversation. “ Joe,” he
began, “ I don’t wish to interfere with your business, but
as a relative and an old friend you will pardon me for
saying that I am a little puzzled; you have only been
married four months, and if Mary is not a mother in a
few days my name isn’t Isaacs.” Joseph did not resent
these remarks, his natural meekness being such that no
insult could evei’ disturb it. With a solemn face he replied
“ My dear Isaacs, there is nothing to pardon. Mary’s baby
is not mine. Its fathar lives in heaven. He is an angel,
or something very high there. Mary has often told me
all about it, but I have such a bad memory for details.
The fact is, however, that Jeshua—we’ve settled his name—
was conceived miraculously, as I’ve heard say some of the
great ones among the heathen were. You may smile, but
I’ve Mary’s word for it, and she ought to know.”
“ My dear fellow,” said Mr. Isaacs, “ if you’re satisfied,
of course I am. I don’t say Mary’s story would go down
with me if I were in your place, but I’ve no right to grumble
if you are contented.”
Thereupon Joseph, with a still more solemn face, replied,
“Well, I was a little incredulous myself at first, but all
my doubts were dispelled after that dream I had. I saw
an angel at my bedside, and he told me that Mary’s story
was quite correct, and I was to marry her. Some of the
neighbors chattered about a Roman soldier, called Pandera,
who used to hang about her house while I was away at
work in the south; but I regard it as nothing but gossip,
and Mary says they are a pack of liars.”
Mr. Isaacs returned to his customers in the hotel, winking
and putting his finger to his nose directly his back was
turned. Meanwhile Joseph and Mary had supper, after
which she felt very unwell, and as luck or providence would
have it, she was confined soon after twelve o’clock of a
bouncing boy. Mr. Isaacs resolutely refused to turn any
customer out of his bed, so the new comer was cradled in
a manger filled with the softest hay.
Soon afterwards a fiery kite-shaped object was seen
in the sky, advancing towards Bethlehem, and finally it
c
�( 46 )
rested on the chimney stack of Mr. Isaacs’ hotel, where
it gave such a lovely illumination that half the town turned
out to see it. Two enterprising spirits, who mounted a
ladder to inspect it closely, and if possible bring it down,
were struck as if by lightning, and were with great difficulty
restored to consciousness by the skill and efforts of a dozen
doctors.
While the people were in a state of bewilderment, six old
gentlemen appeared on the scene. They were attired like the
priests of Persia, and their venerable appearance and long
white beards filled the spectators with reverence. Only one
of them could speak Hebrew, and he acted as interpreter for
the company. “ Where,” he inquired, in a deep majestic
voice, “ is the wondrous babe who is born to-night ? We saw
his portent in the east and have followed it hithei’ nearly six
hundred miles.” Mr. Isaacs informed them that the wondrous
babe was in the stable, at which they were greatly astonished
Four of them said they must have made a mistake, and were
for going home again; but the othei’ two pointed to the
supernatural light on the hotel chimney, and after they had
consumed three bottles of Mr. Isaac’s best Eschol they all
made for the object of their search. Directly they entered
the stable, little Jeshua stood up in the manger, and eyed
them, and as they advanced he accosted them in their own
language. This removed any doubts they entertained, and
they at once knelt down and offered him the presents they
had brought with them. One gave him a cake of scented
soap, another a pretty smelling bottle, another an ivory rattle,
another a silver fork, another a gold spoon, and anothei’ a
cedar plate inlaid with pearl. Little Jeshua took the gifts
very politely, made a graceful little bow, and a neat little
speech in acknowledgment of their kindness. Then, handing
them all over to his mother, to keep till the morning, he sang
with great sweetness “ Lay me in my little bed.”
Soon after daylight some shepherds came in from the hills,
saying they had seen a ghost, who had talked to them in
enigmatical language; they could not understand exactly
what he meant, but they gathered that good times were
coming, when poor shepherds would eat mutton instead of
watching it. On hearing of what happened in the town
�( 47 )
precisely at the same time they were still more astonished.
All Bethlehem was in uproar. Everybody was talking about
little Jeshua, and the presents that were brought him by the
enthusiastic inhabitants filled three large vans when Joseph
and Mary set out again.
ADAM’S BREECHES.
Blush not, fair reader; nothing is coming to offend your
modesty. Ko doubt you have seen pictures of Adam and
Eve in the Garden of Eden, dressed in the primitive costume
of simple innocence, or, as Hans Breitmann says, “ mit.
noddings on.” And perhaps you felt the remarks of some
thick-skinned friend at your side as rather embarrassing.
But our intention is to take the Grand Old Gardener and his
wife at a later stage, when they got clothes, and laid the
foundation of all the tailors’ and milliners’ businesses in
creation.
For some time, nobody knows how long, whether six hours
or sixty years, Adam and Eve never discovered their naked
ness. It never occurred to them that more than one skin
was necessary. And as the climate was exquisite, and the
very roses grew without thorns, they had no need of over
coats or sticking-plaster. But one day they ate an apple, or
for all we know a dozen, and they and the world underwent
a change. “My dear Adam,” said Eve, “you are quite
shocking; why don’t you dress yourself?” And Adam
replied, “ My dear Eve, where is your dressing-gown ?”
Necessity is the mother of invention, and when a woman
wants a dress she will get it somehow. There was no linen
or woollen, so they had recourse to fig leaves, which were
large and substantial. Needles and thread turned up
miraculously, and Eve took to them by instinct. She sat
�( 48 )
down on a grassy mound, and worked away, stitch, stitch,
stitch, while Adam looked on with the ox-eyed stupidity of
his sex in presence of a lady engaged in this, interesting
occupation. In half an hour, more or less, she produced two
pairs of—well, yes, beeeches. The Authorised Version calls
them aprons, but we may believe it was a double-barreled
arrangement. This at any rate was the opinion of the trans
lators of the famous Breeches Bible, first published in folio in
1599, in which the seventh verse of the third chapter of
Genesis reads—“And they sowed fig-tree leaves together,
and made themselves breeches,” from which translation it has
been ingeniously argued “ that the women had as good a
title to the breeches as the men.”
There is no dispute as to the color of Adam’s breeches.
They were green. Hence that universal wit and recondite
scholar, the author of Hudibras, represents the knight’s
attendant, the worthy Ralpho, as *
For mystic learning wondrous able,
In magic Talisman and Cabal,
Whose primitive tradition reaches
As far as Adam’s first green breeches.
Such was the substance and color of Adam’s first unmen
tionables. They were soft and cool, and infinitely preferable
to the coarse articles purveyed in English bathing-machines.
But they were hardly calculated to stand the wear and tear
of the life of labor to which Adam was doomed after the Ball,
and before Jehovah evicted his tenant he took pity on the
poor fellow’s limited wardrobe. “Poor devils,” he said to
himself, “that fig-leaf arrangement won’t last them long.
It’s sure to burst the first time Adam hoes potatoes. I’ll
start them with something stronger. Perhaps the lass will
find out how to rig herself. There’s the first pond for a
looking-glass, and I guess it won’t be long before she gets
Adam to hold a skein of wool. But meanwhile I must do
something for her dolt of a husband. Yes, he shall have a
new pair of breeks.”
And Jehovah made them. Not of shoddy, or good woollen,
but stout leather. Adam changed his green breeches for
brown ones, and when he got them on he said, “ My God,
ain’t they hot1” Eve declared she would never wear a thing
�( 49 )
like that. “ I don’t waddle,” she exclaimed, “ and I won’t
look bandy.” So a committee of seven archangels was
appointed to find a fresh pattern.
Leaving Eve’s outfit alone, and confining our attention to
Adam’s, we may ask a few questions about his second pair of
breeches. Let no one object that such questions are frivolous.
Did not England ring once with tidings of O’Brien’s breeches?
And shall it be thought undignified to take an interest in
Adam’s ? Nor let any one object that such inquiries are
blasphemous. They are are obviously prompted by a spirit
of reverence. What else, indeed, could excite our curiosity
about an old pair of breeches that were worn out many
centuries before the Flood ?
What were the dimensions of Adam’s breeches ? The
Bible does not tell us his altitude, but as he lived nine
hundred and thirty years, and perhaps had a fourth of that
time to grow in, it is not surprising that the Jews regarded
him as excessively tall. His original height was incalculable;
when he stood upright his head reached to the seventh
heaven. But his appearance alarming the angels, the Lord
flattened him down to a thousand cubits. Fifteen hundred
feet, therefore, was his height before he shrank away subse
quently to his expulsion from Paradise. Consequently his
breeches must have been about eight hundred feet long, and
the circumference proportionate. Suits might have been
carved out of them for a whole regiment of Dutchmen.
What animal did Jehovah kill and flay for such an extensive
skin ? Even the mammoth would be ridiculously insufficient.
We presume, therefore, that a wholesale slaughter of beasts
took place, and that Adam’s breeches were made of a multi
tude of skins. These were, of course, of divers colors or
shades, and the garment must have borne some resemblance
(to compare great things with small) to the well-mended
trousers of a poor fisherman, blessed with a careful, industri
ous wife, who makes one pair last him her lifetime by
insinuating fresh patches as the old ones wear away.
Happily the world was not then peopled, or Adam’s life
would have been unbearable. There were no little boys,
about two hundred feet high, to pass exasperating remarks,
D
�( 50 )
such as “ Who’s your tailor ?” “ Does the missis know you’re
out ?” “ Hullo, old Patchwork !”
How long was Jehovah employed? Did he give the
breeches out in sections to the angels, and do the connections
himself? According to the Bible he made them all alone, but
we may well assume an omission in the narrative, and give
him assistance in executing such a liberal order.
How did he kill the animals that furnished the skins ? Did
they die instantaneously at his order, or did he slaughter
them with a knife and a poleaxe ? How did he dress the
skins? Were tan-pits constructed? Were the usual
chemicals employed, or did Jehovah’s science only extend to
the use of bark ?
The ingenious reader will be able to ask a number of ques
tions for himself. Our own must be brought to a close. We
have only to add that the world is impoverished by the loss
of Adam’s breeches. Those who have read Dr. Farrar’s Life
of St Paul will recollect how he sheds rhetoric and tears on
the Apostle’s old cloak. But what was that battered gar
ment in comparison with the subject of this article? Not
only were Adam’s leather breeches the first piece of tailor’swork in the world, but they were worn by the father of all of
us, and made by God himself. Such an article would be
better worth seeing than the coats of kings and emperors.
But, alas, it is lost. Yet the voice of Hope whispers it
may be found. Who knows ? “ There are more things
in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philo
sophy.” Adam’s breeches, too dilapidated for use or
decency, may have been carefully rolled up and preserved
by Seth. Perhaps they were taken into the Ark by
Noah. And when the regions of Mesopotamia are thoroughly
explored, they will perhaps be found in some deep cave
oi’ dry well, carefully wrapped in waterproof, and accu
rately ticketed. Oh what joy when they fall into the hands
of the Christian Evidence Society 1 Then will Engstrom
dance with glee, even as David danced before the Ark of
God; then will the infidel slink away disgraced and crest
fallen ; and then will the Christians cry out to the Huxleys
of the world, “ Oh ye of little faith, who denied the existence
of Adam, come and see his breeches !”
�( 51 )
THE FALL OF EVE.
Do we believe there was a first woman? Certainly not. We
are Darwinians. We cannot allow that there was a particular
female specimen among the ape-like progenitors of the human
race that could be called the first woman, any more than we
can allow that there is a particular moment when a girl
becomes a woman or a youth a man. The first woman we are
concerned with at present is Mrs. Eve, the wife of Mr. Adam,
whom Tennyson calls “ the grand old gardener,” and whose
glorious life, noble actions, and wise and witty sayings, ought
to have been recorded in the book of Genesis, only the author
forgot them. Instead of representing Mr. Adam as a grand
old gardener, the inspired biographer represents him as a
grand old fool. Like Charles II., in Rochester’s epigram,
Mr. Adam never did a wise.thing; but, unlike the merry
monarch, he never said a wise one either. A collection of
his utterances, throughout a long life extending to nearly a
thousand years, would be the smallest and baldest treatise to
be found in the whole world.
Mrs. Eve was the result of an afterthought. God did not
include her in the original scheme of things. He threw her
in afterwards as a make-weight. Poor Mr. Adam was all
alone in his glory in the Gai’den of Eden, king of the dreariest
paradise that ever existed. Monarch of all he surveyed, his
right there was none to dispute: except, perhaps, a big
maned lion, with hot carnivorous jaws, a long-mouthed
alligator, a boa-constrictor, a stinging wasp, or an uncatchable
flea. Walking abroad and surveying his kingdom, he saw
that all the lower animals had partners. Some of the males
had one wife, and some a fine harem, but none was without a
mate. Mr. Adam was the only male unprovided for, and he
was besides a poor orphan. Never had he climbed on his
father’s knee. God was his father, and his legs were too long.
Never had he felt a mother’s kiss on his brow. He watched
the amorous couples frisking about, the doves billing and
�( 52 )
cooing, and his solitary heart yearned for a partner. Lifting
up his hands to the sky, from which his heavenly parent used
occasionally to drop down for a conversation, he cried aloud,
in words that were afterwards used by poor diddled Esau,
“ Bless me, even me also, O my father.”
Day after day poor Mr. Adam pined away. In less than a
month he lost two stone in weight, and the Devil had serious
thoughts of offering to purchase him as a living skeleton for
his show in Pandemonium. At last God took pity on him.
Forgetting that he had pronounced everything good, or not
foreseeing that Moses would be so mean as to record the
mistake, he said it was not good for Mr. Adam to be alone,
and resolved to make the orphan-bachelor a wife. But how
to do it? God had’clean forgotten her, and had used up
every bit of his material. All the nothing he had in stock
when he began to make the universe was exhausted. There
was not a particle of nothing left. So God was obliged to use
over again some of the old material. He put Mr. Adam into
a deep sleep, and carved out one of his ribs. It was the first
surgical operation under chloroform. With this spare rib God
manufactured the first woman. How it was done nobody
knows, but that it was done everybody knows, except a few
wretched, obstinate, perverse infidels, who deserve imprison
ment in this life and hell-fire in the next. Why God took a
rib, instead of a leg or an arm, has never been decided; but
Christian commentators say it was to show two things; first,
that the man Bhould love the woman, as coming from neai’ his
heart, and secondly, that the woman should obey the man, as
she came from under his arm. As our Church of England
marriage service says, the husband is to love and honor his
wife, but the wife is to love, honor and obey her husband 1
Mrs. Eve was probably a very pretty creature, or the
painters have belied her; and some poets have declared that
God was so much in love with her himself, that he regretted
his pledge to give her to Adam. Her attire was remarkably
scanty, but beauty unadorned is adorned the most, and her
future husband’s wardrobe was as limited as her own. This
gentleman woke up at the proper moment, minus a rib and
plus a wife; an awkward, yet after all a pleasant, exchange.
He had never seen a woman before, but he recognised Mrs
�( 53 )
Eve as his wife straight off. It was the shortest courtship
on record.
Directly Mrs. Eve appeared the mischief began—as might
expected. Woman was made for mischief. There is mischief
in her bright eyes, and dimpled smiles, and braided hair.
She sets the world on fire; that is to say, she kindles the
energies of the lubberly creature who calls himself her
superior; makes him look spruce and lively, clean his teeth
and finger nails, put on a clean shirt, and go courting.
According to the old Hebrew story, Old Nick tempted her
to eat the forbidden apples that grew upon Jehovah’s favorite
tree in the orchard of Eden. But this is doubtless a mistake;
a legendary corruption of the original history. Women are
not fonder of apples than men; why, then, should the Devil
wait for the advent of Mrs. Eve before attempting a stroke off
business? John Milton, indeed, following in the wake of
Saint Peter, represents her as the weaker vessel; but this is
sheer nonsense, and surprising nonsense too, when we
recollect that John and Peter were both married.
There cannot be the least doubt that the Devil tempted
Mrs. Eve with a trousseau. She grew tired, and rather
ashamed, of being naked, and yearned to run up a milliner’s
bill. Besides, she noticed that her Hubby was cooling off in
his affection. He did not absolutely neglect her, but he went
fishing more frequently, and had long confabulations with
archangels, to which she was not invited, on account of the
supposed inferiority of her intellect. During the honeymoon
he could never feast his eyes enough on her loveliness; but
after the honeymoon he looked more upon the birds, the trees,
the hills, and the sky. One day, however, using a pool for a
mirror, she did up her hair, which had previously wantoned
over her shoulders. This produced a striking effect on Mr.
Adam. He started with pleasure, and the old honeymoon
look came back to his eyes. But the effect wore off in time,
and poor Mrs. Eve sighed for a fresh means of attack on his
imagination.
It was in this condition that she fell an easy prey to the
Devil. A beautiful morning filled Eden with splendor. The
branches of the trees waved in the refreshing wind ; the birds
flashed amongst them in their gay plumage; animals of
�( 54 )
every variety sported in. their cageless menagerie; and
flowers of every form and hue completed the living picture
of paradise. Mrs. Eve hung fondly upon Mr. Adam’s breast,
but he said he would go fishing, and catch something for
dinner.
When he was out of sight, Old Nick appeared in the form
of a milliner’s assistant. With a smirk and a bow he opened
fire on the citadel. From a large portmanteau he produced a
lovely wardrobe, which he laid on the grass, together with a
book of costumes ; and then withdrew while the lady dressed
herself. In a quarter of an hour she was attired like a
Parisian belle; witching and provoking, from dainty boots to
saucy hat; so that when Old Nick returned he felt downright
jealous, and cursed Mr. Adam for a dull-eyed booby.
“ What have I to pay you ?” asked the lady, with a
delighted smile. “ Nothing, madam, I assure you,” replied
the tradesman. “ It is an honor,” he continued, “ to serve
such an illustrious customer. It will bring me no end of
business in other quarters.” Then, with another smirk and
bow, he retired; exclaiming sotto voce, “ You pay me nothing,
but I guess you’ll have to pay him.11'
When Mr. Adam returned, and found his wife so exquisitely
adorned, he was unable to restrain his rapture. His passion
more than revived ; he doted on this beautiful creature. And
this led to his expulsion from Eden. Jehovah saw himself
completely cut out. When Mr. Adam should have been
casting his eyes to heaven, he was watching the flicker and
listening to the frou-frou of Mrs. Eve’s skirts on the grass;
or drinking delight from her sweet, blue eyes, as they gleamed
through the shadow of her broad-brimmed hat. “ I’ll not
stand it,” said Jehovah, and they were evicted from the
holding.
Dear Mrs. Eve! She did not fall, she rose. The incident
was misrepresented by penurious curmudgeons who hated
the sight of milliners’ bills. Without the “ fall ” of Mrs. Eve
there would have been no clothes, and consequently no
civilisation; for housos are only, as it were, extended suits of
clothes, larger garments to shield us from the weather, and
create for us a home. It was after all better to take part in
the great Battle of Life, with all its difficulties and dangers,
�(
)
than to loll about eternally in the Garden of Eden, chewing
the cud like contemplative cows. “ Doing nothing,” said a
shrewd Yankee, “ is the hardest work I know—if you keep at
it. Mrs. Eve made life more bearable by giving us some
thing, to do. And when the ladies reflect that, if she had not
fallen, and resigned nakedness for clothing, there would
have been no Worth and no Madame Louise, they will rejoice
that she turned her back on the Garden of Eden.
JOSHUA AT JERICHO.
Joshua besieged Jericho. It was a city of fifty thousand
inhabitants, and was five miles in circuit. The defenders
numbered ten thousand men of arms. They were amply
provided with slings and javelins as well as with swords for
a close encounter. Joshua’s army numbered six hundred
thousand, and swarmed on the plain like locusts.
All Jericho was astonished that Joshua’s army did not
attempt to scale the walls. Instead of doing so, they marched
round the city at a safe distance from the strongest slings.
They were headed by their priests, blowing rams’ horns, and
carrying their fetish in a box. Six days this procession
moved round Jericho, the defenders on the walls wondering
at the performance, and shouting to them to come on like
men. On the seventh day the procession went round Jericho
seven times. Seven out of the twelve priests dropped out
from sheer exhaustion, and more than half the army limped
off, faint and footsore, to their tents. Suddenly the five
remaining priests blew their horns with all the breath left in
them, the army emitted a feeble shout, and the walls of
Jericho fell down of themselves. Joshua’s soldiers imme
diately rushed into the city from all points of the compass.
The defenders who were not buried under the ruins of the
�( 56 )
walls, fought gallantly until they were all killed. Then,
with shouts of “ Jahveh, Jahveh!” the besiegers fell upon the
other inhabitants. Men, women, and children were involved
in a promiscuous massacre, Pregnant matrons were ripped
open, babies were tossed out of the windows and caught on
spears. Even the cattle were exterminated. Dogs were
thrust through, and if a few cats escaped it was only owing
to their surprising agility. Night fell upon the doomed city
and covered its bloody streets with a pall of darkness.
Joshua revelled in the king’s palace with the chiefs of
Israel. They drank the royal wines, and regretted that
Jahveh’s orders had necessitated the slaughter of the royal
wives and concubines. The rest of the army, or as many as
could be accommodated, were feasting in the various houses,
with no remorse for the day’s butchery.
But one of Joshua’s soldiers did not share the general
merriment. He was a fine young fellow of twenty-five.
Married only a year ago to a beautiful girl whom he loved
and worshipped, he had revolted at the sight of women
hacked to pieces; and when he saw babies cut and slashed,
he thought of the darling infant at his young wife’s breast,
and turned with loathing from the hideous scene. He was
now wandering about the city, having no taste for the rude
revelry of his callous companions. Suddenly, as he approached
a house nearly ruined by the fallen wall, he heard a moan
from within. He entered and saw a man’s corpse on the
floor, and bending over the body was a shapely young woman
with a baby in her arms. The dead body was that of her
husband, who had been slain in the massacre. She had crept
with her babe into a recess in the upper room, and as the
place looked a ruinous heap the savage soldiers had omitted
to search it. When all was quiet she crawled out of her
hiding-place, and for hours she bent moaning over her hus
band’s corpse.
The young Jewish soldier looked pitifully on the scene at
his feet. The woman raised her eyes to his face, and they
were so like those of his young wife! The baby, ignorant
and innocent, laughed at him and cooed. Clasping the child
to her bosom the woman was about to cry for mercy, when he
whispered, “ Hush 1 I will save you. Come with me. Take
�bread and water with you for tho journey. I will lead you
beyond the city wall, and then you must flee under cover of
the night. Michmash is only ten miles distant. You are
young and strong, and you and youi- babe will be there
before dawn.”
Cautiously they picked their way, and they were just
reaching safety when a door was flung open by a dozen
quarrelling soldiers. The light fell upon the three figures
outside. “ Hullo !” exclaimed they, “ what’s this ? Leading
the girl off, eh ? A baby, too I Were you going to adopt the
little one ? Treason, treason 1 Our order was to slay all,
and leave alive nothing that breatheth.”
The young woman was seized, and half a dozen hands were
laid on the young man, who knew resistance was useless and
therefore offered none. An houi’ later they were brought
before Joshua. The general’s eye kindled at the sight of the
woman’s beauty, but religion conquered and he resolved to
obey his God.
“ What were you doing ?” asked Joshua.
“ Helping her to escape,” answered the young soldier.
“ Why ?” asked the general.
“ Because I have a wife and child of my own, and these are
like them.”
“ Traitor 1” exclaimed Joshua, “ all three of you shall die!”
The woman shrieked, but Joshua’s sword was unsheathed,
and one sweep of his muscular arm sent it through the body
of the child deep into the mother’s breast. Then, without
wiping the bloody weapon, he raised it again. The young
soldier smiled scornfully, and his expression added fresh fuel
to the flame of Joshua’s anger. With one blow he severed
the head from the body; and standing over the three corpses,
his frame dilating with the passion of bloodshed and. piety
*
he exclaimed, “ Thus saith the Lord 1”
�(. 58 )
A
BABY
GOD.
By Thomas Scepticvs.
“Newman described closely some of the incidents of our Lord’s
passion; hethen paused. For a few moments there was a breathless
silence. Then, in a low, clear voice, of which the faintest vibration was
audible in the farthest corner of St. Mary’s, he said, ‘ Now, I bid you
recollect that He to whom these things were done was Almighty God.
It was as if an electric stroke had gone through the church, as if every
person present understood for the first time the meaning of what he had
all his life been saying.”—J. A. Froude, “ The Oxford Counter-Reforma
tion.”
J
Mr. Froude’s account of the realism of Newman’s preaching
is the best justification of the following article. It is difficult
to see why the Infancy of Jesus should not be treated in the
same manner as his Passion. If it was God Almighty to
whom those things were done on the cross, it was equally
God Almighty who was suckled and nursed by Mary of
Nazareth. And in the one'Case, as well as in the other, it is
well for men to understand the meaning of what they read
and repeat.
Eighteen hundred and ninety-one years ago, more or less,
God Almighty turned Theosophist and resolved to be in
carnated. Whether he was incarnated or re-incarnated will
depend on our acceptance or rejection of the Oriental theory
of Avatars. The time had come, which was appointed before
the foundation of the world, for the Creator of this stubborn,
accursed planet to do a great stroke for its salvation. For
four thousand years it had been going to the dogs, or rather
to the Devil. Angels and prophets had been sent to reform
it, but all in vain, and God Almighty determined to come
himself and make a last desperate effort to save this wretched
world from utter bankruptcy.
No doubt the incarnation of God is a “ mystery.” Even
those who can see through millstones are unable to under
stand it. The clergy bid us believe it by faith. Reason, they
admit, is beaten and baffled by this awful truth. Yet the
“ mystery ” is only the theological view of very simple facts.
�( 59 )
It does not alter the facts themselves. The birth, growth,
and training of Jesus were palpable occurrences, whatevei’ we
may think as to his divinity.
God Almighty decided to be born, but he also decided to
be born in an uncommon way. True, it was the way adopted
by many heroes and demi-gods of the Pagan pantheon, and
the more ancient mythologies of Egypt and India. But it
was an uncommon way as the world goes. A virgin, though
a married woman, was selected to be his mother. He worked
a miracle upon her; he become, so to speak, his own father;
and though she was at first his child, he afterwards became
hers.
The miracle ended at the moment of his conception. From
that time his incarnation followed the natural order of things.
His gestation was like another baby’s, and in due course—
for such an august birth was not to be hurried—he came into
the daylight of the world, a little red mass of helpless flesh.
He was probably tended by an old Jewish midwife, who never
suspected what she was handling. She washed him, undis
turbed by his faint squealings ; and wrapped him up in flann el,
without the faintest idea that she was manipulating God
Almighty. Had she been suddenly informed that she was
holding her Creator, she would probably have dropped him
in a fright and injured his spine.
Presently the midwife’s services were dispensed with, and
Mary had the baby to herself. She nourished God Almighty
at her breast, for feeding-bottles were not then invented, and
the divine child ©&uld scarcely be passed over to a wet nurse
—perhaps a bouncing, big-eyed Jewess who had suffered a
“ misfortune.”
Here we must pause to ^quarrel with Christian painters.
They are too idealistic. They scorn honest realism. Never do
they depict this baby God at his lacteal repast. He always looks
as if fed six weeks in advance. Perhaps they think a mother’s
suckling her child, which even old Cobbett called the most
beautiful and holy sight on earth, is beneath the dignity of
the subject. But the baby God went through these little
experiences, with the regularity and pleasure of a common
infant. Facts, gentlemen, are facts; and to ignore them is
fraud or hypocrisy.
�( 60 )
According to the story of the raising of Lazarus, Jesus wept,
though we never read that he laughed; in fact, he appears to
have been a remarkably serious young man. May be, how
ever, he smiled now and then in Mary’s arms ; anyhow, it is
safe to say he cried. We may presume he went through all
the infantile processes like the rest of us ; otherwise his being
born on earth as a human being, was a mockery, a delusion,
and a snare.
God Almighty mewled and puked in Mary’s arms. He
screamed when he was angry or cross, or when his little
stomach was overcharged, or when a nasty pin was pricking
him. He cooed when he was happy and comfortable. He
kicked his legs aimlessly, dashed his little fists into space,
scratched his little nose, and filled his mouth with his fingers.
A million to one he largely increased the family washing-bill.
By and bye God cut his teeth, and had pimples and rash.
Probably he had the measles. Eighteen hundred years later
he would have been vaccinated. Nasty stuff from another
baby’s arm, or from an afflicted calf, would have been inserted
in the arm of God Almighty.
Later on God Almighty crept about on all fours with his
stern higher than his front. Then he stood upright by a
chair and learned to walk by means of the furniture. Fre
quently he fell down upon the part he displayed to Moses.
He stole into Joseph’s workshop, and God Almighty cut his
fingers with chisels and jack-planes. Now and then he sat
on a saw, and got up with undignified haste. God Almighty
also learned to talk. At first you couldn’t tell whether he
was talking Sanskrit, Hebrew, Greek, or North Ameriean
Indian. But he improved as he went along, and God
could at last speak as good Hebrew, with a Galilean accent,
as any other juvenile of the same age.
Finally, God Almighty went to school, where bigger boys
fagged him and sometimes punched his head. It is con
ceivable that God Almighty bled at the nose and wore a
black eye.
All this is very “ blasphemous.” But whose is the “ blas
phemy ” ? Not ours. We do not believe in the deity of
Jesus Christ. The “ blasphemy ”—and in this case it is real
blasphemy—lies at the door of those who say that Mary’s
�( 61 )
baby was very God of very God. All we have done is to
follow Newman’s example; and as he dwelt on the facts of
the Crucifixion, so we have dwelt on the facts of Christ’s
infancy. We have only related what must have happened.
Who dares dispute it ? No one. The very idea is an
absurdity. Why then should we be reviled ? Is it not the
function of true art to hold the mirror up to nature ? And
is not this the head and front of our offending ? We have
simply taken the Christian at his word. We have assumed
that he believes what he professes. We have accepted the
dogma that the deity was born of the Virgin Mary; we have
followed, step by step, his infantile career ; and we exclaim
“ Christians, behold your God !”
We decline responsibility for what the mirror reflects. We
merely hold it up. And this we shall continue to do. Here
and there we shall arrest a superstitionist and make him
think about his faith; and that will console us for all the
insults and sufferings we have experienced in the service of
Truth.
JUDAS ISCARIOT.
A Sermon by the Rev. Francis Subtle.
The subject of our sermon this evening is a character that
has almost universally been held up to hatred and contempt.
Artists have invariably represented him as ill-looking and
malignant. His very hair has been painted red as the symbol
of treachery; and this fact has been seized upon by one of
the greatest of English satirists, who described a bookseller
with whom he quarrelled as having
Two left legs and Judas-colored hair.
On the other hand, however, Judas has been partially vin
�( 62 )
dicated by Thomas De Quincey and Benjamin Disraeli; and a
clergyman of our own Church of England has made him the
hero of a Romance, in which the sin of Judas is treated as the
precipitancy of a worldly-minded man, who only desired to
hasten the temporal reign of our Blessed Savioi’ as King of
the Jews.
It will be my duty this evening to expain to you the real
character of Judas; what were his motives in the betrayal of
his Master; and what part he actually played in the mighty
and mysterious drama of the crucifixion of the Son of God.
But before I proceed with this task I must pause to rebut
an infamous piece of scoffing which I recently met with in an
infidel publication. You will remember that among the
brothers of Jesus, according to the flesh, was one bearing the
name of our Lord’s betrayer. Now the infidel writer
referred to indulged in the impious surmise that Judas, the
brother of Jesus, and Judas, the betrayer of the Son of God,
were one and the same person ; and that it was so arranged
by Jehovah, with the Jewish econony that might be expected
of him, in order to keep the blood-money in the family.
Such a wicked speculation will naturally horrify this devout
congregation; and I only mention it, first to show you what
awful blasphemy is still allowed by the too-indulgent laws of
this nation, and secondly to contradict the foolish idea that
the two Judases in the Gospels were identical. They were
entirely different persons, beloved; and you must so regard
them if you hope to be saved.
Let us now return to our proper subject. And first let me
clear away certain difficulties that beset my path at the very
outset.
When the Savior partook of the Last Supper with his dis
ciples he remarked, “ I have chosen you twelve, and one of
you is a Devil.” Now this is clear and emphatic, and is usually
regarded as decisive of the character of Judas. And, indeed,
it would be so, if our Lord always spoke as God. But he
sometimes spoke as Man. When he prayed in Gethsemane
that the cup of agony might pass from him, and when he
cried out on the cross “ My God, my God, why hast thou for
saken me ?” it was the expression of his human infirmity, not
the voice of his divine omnipotence. And so, when he called
�( 63 )
Judas a Devil, he spoke with the passion of a mortal man,
who knew that he must die, yet relucted at martyrdom, and
was wroth with the human instrument of his fate. In the
same way we must understand the references to Judas as
being possessed by Satan. The evangelists followed the lead
of their Master; and on this occasion, as on others in the
Gospels, they somewhat misunderstood his language.
After this it will not be expected that I should be deterred
by the reference to Judas in the Acts of the Apostles, or by
the denunciations of the early Fathers. No age is ever per
fect in the interpretation of Scripture. From time to time a
fresh light is shed upon its holy pages, and one of these
flashes of heavenly illumination (as I humbly opine) has
enabled me to see in the story of Judas what has been hidden
for so many centuries from the greatest and most penetrating
divines of the Church of Christ,
It is evident to my apprehension that Judas was not insti
gated by malicious motives. Evidently, however, he had a
disposition to think for himself; and is it any wonder that
*
finally, he ventured to act for himself ? He was the only one
of the twelve disciples that ever criticised his Master. It is
recorded that when a certain woman anointed the Savior’s
head with a precious alabaster box of ointment, Judas inquired
“ Why was not this sold for much money, and given to the
poor ?” He had heard his Master enjoin the selling of pro
perty, and the giving of the proceeds to the poor; and to his
short-sighted understanding it appeared that his Master had
violated his own teaching. This was presumptuous on his
part; he had no right to criticise his Lord; yet his presump
tion was not malignancy; on the contrary, it would seem that
he was afflicted at the thought of wasting what might have
alleviated the miseries of indigence.
Humanly speaking, this presumption of Judas was the
motive of his apparent treachery. It is idle to suppose that
he would have sold his Master for the paltry sum of thirty
half-crowns if he were merely driving a selfish bargain. A
hundred times—yea, perhaps a thousand times—that amount
might have been exacted from the Jewish Sanhedrim as the
price of one whom they were so anxious to remove. Judas
forewent that price; he took only £3 15s. at the very highest
�( 64 )
estimate ; and his abstention from the fair profit of treachery
must be accounted for on other than mercenary grounds.
What was his motive then ? Why this. He observed the
reluctance of Jesus to go to Jerusalem; his shrinking from
his approaching death; his desire to turn away, if possible,
from the bitter cup. Nay, the very fact that Jesus, after
going to Jerusalem, only spent the daytime in the holy city,
and repaired by night to a place of shelter beyond the walls,
was a clear indication to Judas that, even at the eleventh
hour, his Master might fly from danger. Accordingly he
resolved to push him over the brink of the precipice. He took
a small sum of money from the Sanhedrim to give his action a
color of sincerity, and then led an armed party to arrest his
Master. Thus the death of Jesus was assured, and with it
the success of the great scheme of Redemption.
But why, it will be asked, did Judas bring back the money
in a fit of repentance, and afterwards hang himself? The
obvious answer is, that his mind suffered a reaction. His
courage sustained him to the critical point; then it deserted
him, and left him a prey to afflicting ideas of his Master’s
sufferings. He hated himself, loathed the sight of the
money, and, in a paroxysm of despair, laid violent hands
upon his own life.
Thus did Judas share to the very end in the drama of the
Crucifixion. He died as well as his Master. Both of them
were, indeed, under a divine compulsion. Jesus had to be
crucified, and Judas had to betray him, otherwise there would
have been no crucifixion. Presumptuous as the act of Judas
was, speaking humanly, it was divinely appointed for the
salvation of mankind. Think, beloved, oh think, what must
have happened if Judas had not played his part. Christ
would not have died to save us, and we should all have been
damned! Let us, therefore, cease railing at this misunder
stood character; let us remember that he was indispensable
to the Redemption; let us treasure his memory as that of an
illustrious benefactor; let us anticipate the time when his
name will be added to the calendar, and the loftiest of saints
will be Saint Judas Iscariot.
��Works by G. W. Foote.
“THE FREETHINKER”
Edited by G. W. FOOTE.
Circulates throughout the World.
Published every Thursday.
R. Fordcr, 28 Stonecutter Street, London, EC.
2
2
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M W
to
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tO
to
ts?
to
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Bound in cloth
... 1
Is Socialism Sound ? ... 1
Four Nights’ Public De
bate with Annie Besant.
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Christianity^; Secularism 1
Four nights’ Public De
bate with the Rev. Dr.
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Darwin on God ...
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Reminiscences of Charles
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Infidel Death-Beds
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Defence of Free Speech 6
Three Hours’ Address to
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Coleridge.
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O O
Impregnable Rock of Holy
■' Scripture.
0 Christianitvand Progress 0
Reply to Mr. Gladstone.
Mrs. Besant’s Theosophy 0
, A Candid Criticism.
Secularism & Theosophy 0
Rejoinder to Mrs. Besant.
The New Cagliostro ... 0
6
Open Letter to Madame
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Blavatsky.
The Folly of Prayer ... 0
The Impossible Creed ... 0
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Open Letter to Bishop
0 Magee on the Sermon on
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Salvation Syrup, or Light
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6 What, Was Christ ?
... 0
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The Shadow of the Sword 0
6
A Moral and Statis ical
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Essay on War.
3 Royal Paupers ...
... 0
0 The Dying Atheist
... 0
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4 Was Jesus Insane ?
Is the Bible Inspired ?... 0
A Criticism of Mt® Mundi.
Bible Romances (revised) 0
2
double, numbers
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A Reply to the Grand
Old Man. An Exhaus
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Bon. W. E Gladstone's
�
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Victorian Blogging
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A collection of digitised nineteenth-century pamphlets from Conway Hall Library & Archives. This includes the Conway Tracts, Moncure Conway's personal pamphlet library; the Morris Tracts, donated to the library by Miss Morris in 1904; the National Secular Society's pamphlet library and others. The Conway Tracts were bound with additional ephemera, such as lecture programmes and handwritten notes.<br /><br />Please note that these digitised pamphlets have been edited to maximise the accuracy of the OCR, ensuring they are text searchable. If you would like to view un-edited, full-colour versions of any of our pamphlets, please email librarian@conwayhall.org.uk.<br /><br /><span><img src="http://www.heritagefund.org.uk/sites/default/files/media/attachments/TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" width="238" height="91" alt="TNLHLF_Colour_Logo_English_RGB_0_0.jpg" /></span>
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Conway Hall Library & Archives
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2018
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Conway Hall Ethical Society
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Title
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Comic sermons and other fantasias
Creator
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Foote, G. W. (George William) [1850-1915]
Description
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Place of publication: London
Collation: 64 p. ; 19 cm.
Notes: Contents: A sermon on summer -- A mad sermon -- A sermon on sin -- A bishop in the workhouse -- A Christmas sermon -- Christmas Eve in Heaven -- Bishop Trimmer's Sunday diary -- The Judge and the Devil -- Satan and Michael -- The first Christmas -- Adam's breeches -- The fall of Eve -- Joshua at Jericho -- A baby God -- Judas Iscariot. Stamp of M. Steinberger,4, 5 & 6 Great St Helens, London E.C., on front cover. Works by author listed on back cover. Part of the NSS pamphlet collection.
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R. Forder
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1892
Identifier
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N233
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Sermons
Free thought
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<a href="http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/mark/1.0/"><img src="http://i.creativecommons.org/p/mark/1.0/88x31.png" alt="Public Domain Mark" /></a><span> </span><br /><span>This work (Comic sermons and other fantasias), identified by </span><a href="https://conwayhallcollections.omeka.net/items/show/www.conwayhall.org.uk"><span>Humanist Library and Archives</span></a><span>, is free of known copyright restrictions.</span>
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application/pdf
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Text
Language
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English
Free Thought
Humour
NSS
Sermons