CORNELL 
 
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Cornell University Library 
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Cornell University 
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PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 LIPS ON WHICH THE ETERNAL SILENCE HAS FALLEN 
 
 A MEMORIAL OF 
 
 JOHN ALBERT WILSON 
 
 AUTHOR OF " SONG-CAPTIVES," " THE PARADOX, AND OTHER POEMS," ETC. 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 Geo. H. Ellis, 141 Franklin Street 
 
 1884 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 In accordance with the wishes of friends 
 and parishioners, this volume, as a memorial 
 of the work of a sincere and earnest seeker 
 after truth, is given to the public. 
 
 Doubtless some favorite sermon will be 
 missed from among the number, — an unavoid- 
 able difficulty in making a selection from 
 many discourses, nearly all of which were 
 worthy of publication. 
 
 The sermons are arranged in the order in 
 which they were delivered before the Unita- 
 rian Society at Bridgewater, Mass., the first 
 on Jan. 15, 1882, and the last on Dec. 2, 1883. 
 
 If the thoughts here collected but serve to 
 help and to ennoble the lives into which they 
 
4 PREFACE 
 
 enter, and thus continue the influence for 
 good of one who " being dead yet speaketh," 
 the object of the volume will have been 
 accomplished. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Memoir, g 
 
 Self-help in Religion, 19 
 
 Indifference 28 
 
 Immortality, 38 
 
 Faith, 47 
 
 The Unrealized Ideals of Life, 58 
 
 Hope, 69 
 
 Charity 77 
 
 Jesus and the Fallen Woman, 85 
 
 Little Things 93 
 
 Prayer, loi 
 
 The Ethics of Jesus, 113 
 
 The Larger Conception of God, 124 
 
 The Secret of Jesus, 139 
 
 Paul's Life and Work 150 
 
 Paul's Theology of " Christ," and Paul's Relig- 
 ion OF Jesus, 167 
 
 Success, 182 
 
6 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Special Judgments and Special Providences, . 190 
 
 The Law of Liberty, 202 
 
 Why am I a Unitarian? 210 
 
 The Plan of Salvation taught by Jesus, as 
 
 compared with that taught by Paul, . . 225 
 
 Miracles and Myths of the Bible, 234 
 
JOHN ALBERT WILSOH, 
 
 Who passed behind the Veil hiding Eternity from Time, 
 Saturday, Dec. 8, 1883. 
 
 "There sat the Shadow feared of man; 
 
 " Who broke our fair companionship. 
 And spread his mantle dark and cold. 
 And wrapt thee formless in the fold. 
 And duU'd the murmur on thy lip, 
 
 ■'And bore thee where I could not see 
 Nor follow, though I walk in haste, 
 And think that somewhere in the waste 
 The Shadow sits and waits for me." 
 
MEMOIR. 
 
 Gone! These lost ones, — how hard to fill the 
 vacuum which their departure leaves in our hearts 
 and lives ! How these sad experiences come to us, 
 like a cold, black, ruthless hand out of the gloom, 
 snatching from us our life jewels ! But not to us 
 alone these trials, for it is no strange thing that has 
 happened. 
 
 "Who has not lost a friend?" 
 
 When the royal Indian Prince, in the humble guise 
 of a wisdom seeker, told the bereaved young mother 
 that herbs, brought from a house where none had 
 died, would cure her already lifeless child, he showed 
 how complete was his sympathy with the sorrowing 
 one, brought so rudely to face the inevitable destiny, 
 and his wisdom in so gently teaching her the uni- 
 versal fact. 
 
 Our friend has left us ! Some three decades or 
 so ago, he entered within the walls of this curious 
 tenement we call life, developed into fuller and still 
 fuller life, encountered trials and obstacles, under 
 the clouds and sunshine of the varied experiences 
 
I O MEMOIR 
 
 of our checkered being, iaced the problems of exist- 
 ence, soared oft on the pinions of thought into the 
 rarer ether which fills the boundless, in eager search 
 of the unknown, and as oft returned to Earth's 
 mother bosom, like the rest of us, still longing, still 
 unsatisfied. The questionings after the secrets of 
 the beyond, which perhaps have, form, to some ex- 
 tent, in all minds, were in him intense, sometimes 
 rousing to a white heat of fervid inquiry. "Para- 
 dox" and "Solitude," among his published poems, 
 give some idea of these spirit strivings, the former 
 being written almost entirely among the tombs of 
 a city cemetery. A strong dash of melancholy, 
 pervading his nature, made such sombre musings 
 frequently most congenial to him. 
 
 Yet, though somewhat prone by temperament and 
 mental bias to pensive reflection or solemn thought 
 when alone, in society he was usually markedly 
 cheerful, and even jocular. If there was, on the 
 other hand, work of any kind to be done, to which 
 he was bound by duty or inclination, he applied him- 
 self to it with such unflagging zeal and devotion as 
 frequently to make him unpopular with those who 
 had not his ability or inclination for continuous and 
 unremitting labor. "Whatsoever thy hand findeth 
 to do, do it with thy might," was essentially the 
 motto of his life. A comparatively brief life it was, 
 
MEMOIR 1 1 
 
 as measured by the years, but certainly long as esti- 
 mated by work done, labor accomplished, in extent 
 only known to the few. 
 
 Yes, our friend has departed; and thought in 
 retrospect traces him, the earth traveller, back to 
 the beginning of his pilgrimage, shares again his 
 boyish life, and again through memory's glass sees 
 the home group of which we both were members. 
 As the opening bud foretells the bloom of the flower 
 and the ripened fruit of maturity's season, so the 
 developing life of childhood holds the promise of 
 the coming years, the prophecy of the deeds that 
 are to be. 
 
 But who cares to dwell on promise when the 
 fulfilment is here.' Who longer speaks of the 
 warning streaks of day, flung athwart eastern skies, 
 when the bright sun himself shines higher and 
 higher, mounting to his zenith, even though, while 
 still gazing, a dark cloud receives him into its bosom, 
 and leaves the observer enshrouded in gloom ? 
 
 As the companion of his boyhood and the sharer 
 of the trials and triumphs of his disciplinary years, 
 before manhood, with its revelations and responsi- 
 bilities, dawned upon him; as associated, though 
 less intimately, with his early maturity, few knew 
 him better than the writer. He whom we mourn, 
 and whose voice still speaks out in the strong 
 
12 MEMOIR 
 
 utterances of this volume, had a singularly diver- 
 sified experience and an uncommon range of special 
 preparation to fit him for his work. His riper 
 youth and early manhood passed in practical busi- 
 ness life. Then followed college and professional 
 training, succeeded by a period of clerical and 
 varied literary labor, all combining to fit him for 
 the work in which head, heart, and hand could 
 unite in strong consent and choice. 
 
 Earnest, zealous, ambitious, and with a capacity 
 for labor and sustained effort which was amazing for 
 one of his slender physique, into whatever he under- 
 took, all the forces of his nature were thrown, and 
 became a unit to propel and drive forward to the 
 desired consummation. Opposition was not depress- 
 ing, but stimulating, in that it served to bring out 
 all his resources of latent power. Yet this very 
 nervous energy, which was so lavishly used to over- 
 come antagonism and remove hindrances, really 
 exhausted the life force and sapped the vitality of 
 a frame whose strength lay rather in the will power 
 and the nerve centres than in the physical structure 
 generally. It was the oft-repeated story of the 
 ardent, tireless spirit fretting and wearing out its 
 material tenement. Mortgages were continually 
 being given on the physical estate to meet the 
 pressing emergency, and furnish ready funds to the 
 
MEMOIR 13 
 
 exacting proprietor ; and foreclosure was necessarily 
 only a matter of time. Again and again, the writer 
 warned that physical bankruptcy must inevitably 
 result from such reckless waste of the vital powers ; 
 but all such warnings were unheeded or forgotten. 
 He thought that his mental and physical endurance 
 was practically inexhaustible. 
 
 Too much anxiety to present nothing but finished 
 work, coupled with a certain tendency to internal 
 fret and worry, — which latter, perhaps, was insepa- 
 rable from his temperament, — was continually dis- 
 turbing that nice balance which should exist be- 
 tween the physical and intellectual, the material 
 and the immaterial. Enough vital force was not 
 produced to permit such lavish expenditure of men- 
 tal and spiritual energy, and at the same time carry 
 on the bodily functions properly. Surely, the pre- 
 mature demise of one so promising ought to ring a 
 warning in the ears of all those who are apt to 
 forget that the body is the foundation and condition 
 of earth life, and that on its vigor and efficiency 
 everything else depends. 
 
 To the mingling of Anglo-Saxon and Celtic blood 
 in his veins, our friend and brother probably owed 
 that marked union of the imaginative and poetic 
 with the strong practical business capacity which 
 was a predominant feature in his character. Not 
 
14 MEMOIR 
 
 that the latter faculty was always brought into play 
 in his actions; for he often allowed this capability 
 to lapse into abeyance, and gave the former free 
 rein, and abandoned himself to their rule. 
 
 The main deficiency in his character was a want 
 of caution, permitting him to say and do on impulse 
 what was inexpedient and rash, thereby incurring 
 vexation and penalty which a more calculating dis- 
 position would have avoided. Absolutely fearless 
 and willing to risk consequences, he often recklessly 
 invited attack, and threw down the gauntlet to 
 Danger. To this must be ascribed many, if not 
 most, of the mental trials he encountered, and 
 which, it is to be feared, hastened his dissolution. 
 
 As a strong, clear prose writer, a poet of no mean 
 ability, a speaker of more than average power, and 
 a conscientious, earnest man, he has, I think, com- 
 manded, during his pulpit career, at least the respect 
 of his readers, hearers, and acquaintances, whether 
 they fully indorsed his individual views or not. In 
 his social relations, he was generally urbane and 
 sympathetic ; and, if at times somewhat positive, it 
 arose, we believe, rather from the sincerity of his 
 convictions, than from any desire to be aggressive 
 or dogmatic. 
 
 Abhorring despotism and tyranny in any form, he 
 naturally inclined to the side of the weak, sometimes 
 
MEMOIR 15 
 
 with a chivalrous self-forgetfulness that to some 
 appeared almost Quixotic. He had a deeply relig- 
 ious nature, for which he failed to find any nour- 
 ishment or satisfaction in the empty forms and 
 ceremonies, creeds, dogmas, groundless assumptions, 
 and unwarrantable teachings of the so-called Ortho- 
 dox Church, in which he had been reared. But 
 this volume testifies for itself on such points ; and 
 through it he, "being dead, yet speaketh." 
 
 Open-handed and generous, faithful in his friend- 
 ships, warm and sincere in his affections, those who 
 knew him best will not soon forget him, or feel quite 
 reconciled to that dark shadow from the Death 
 Angel's wing which hid him from their sight. 
 But it is some palliation of the dread stroke that 
 he passed from the seen to the unseen, surrounded 
 by friends and faithfully tended to the last by the 
 one he loved best on earth. All that kindness, 
 sympathy, affection, could do to avert the calamity 
 — so feared by us, not by him — was done j and the 
 thought of this must be our consolation now. Fur- 
 ther, we could not ; for the issues of life and death 
 are not in mortal hands. 
 
 Our friend's material form rests on the hillside 
 of the quiet cemetery, and the spring flowers will 
 blossom about it, and fill the air with fragrance and 
 beauty; and the summer birds will sing in joyous 
 
l6 MEMOIR 
 
 concert, and make the trees and shrubs which 
 surround his resting-place vocal with melody; and 
 autumn will shed her leaves as a tender tribute, 
 and cover his grave, spangling it with colors of 
 varied patterns, fresh from Nature's own treasure- 
 house. The wintry winds, too, will chant a requiem 
 above him. So the seasons will each give dowry 
 and such offering as they have to one who loved 
 them in their varied beauty, and rejoiced in the 
 successive changes of the fourfold year. The earth 
 form will be enwrapped by Nature in her loving 
 arms, until such time as the material elements shall 
 be fitted to re-enter the great circle of being, to 
 reappear in new life of grass or leaf, bud or flower, 
 — a beautiful resurrection of the body. 
 
 And for the risen spirit, which has even now 
 entered on a new existence and engaged in other 
 fields of labor, it doubtless realizes, in a very full 
 and exalted sense, that which it so desired to know 
 here. Yes : that intense curiosity to pierce the 
 cloud and lift the veil is now gratified, and in the 
 thought of that blessed " peace " which has come to 
 the restless soul, that content which has at length 
 reached the hungering spirit, that light which has 
 illumined the darkness in which all earth's children 
 must grope, — who can refuse to say, Amen ! Rest, 
 brother, friend, minister! Rest in the larger life 
 
MEMOIR 17 
 
 and greater opportunity and untrammelled freedom ! 
 Rest until, in the fast-coming future, we, too, by 
 growth of wing, gain strength to rise above earth 
 and its disquietudes, and soar aloft and afar to join 
 thee in the somewhere beyond! 
 
 "But thou and I have shaken hands, 
 Till growing winters lay me low; 
 My paths are in the fields I know, 
 And thine in undiscovered lands." 
 
 H. R. W. 
 
PULPIT UTTERANCES. 
 
 SELF-HELP IN RELIGION. 
 
 " Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling ; for it 
 is God which worketh in you both to will and to work, for his good 
 pleasure." — Paul's Ensile to the Philippians ii., 12, 13. 
 
 It is related of Mahomet that, camping one even- 
 ing after a weary march across the desert, one of 
 his tired followers said, — 
 
 " I will leave my camel loose, and commit it to 
 God." 
 
 "Friend," answered Mahomet, "tie your camel, 
 and commit it to God." 
 
 You will say that this injunction was but the 
 application of ordinary prudence to one of the daily 
 affairs of life. And yet do not we, at times, in the 
 spirit of this camel-driver, seek to saddle upon the 
 Almighty cares which in common sense we are 
 bound to take upon ourselves } Are we not inclined 
 to close our eyes to that divine law of labor indel- 
 ibly stamped upon the face of Nature, " In the sweat 
 of thy face shalt thou eat bread"? And are there 
 not among us even those who seat themselves by 
 
20 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 the empty flour-barrel, and wait, with Elijah, for the 
 coining of the ravens ? 
 
 Alas ! the day of miracles is past. The cows of 
 Philistia, which in olden time went lowing from 
 their calves to carry back the ark, would to-day 
 undoubtedly respond to the maternal instinct, and 
 stay at home. The mountain ram would struggle 
 hard for freedom, ere he yielded himself a sacrifice, 
 even to save Isaac from the knife. The ravens are 
 so busy caring for their little ones that Elijah's 
 needs are neglected. That "God helps those who 
 help themselves " is the crystallized result of human 
 experience; and the proverb might quite as truth- 
 fully be rendered, " God helps those only who help 
 themselves." 
 
 Then whence springs this philosophy of inaction, 
 this idle dependence on supernatural aid 1 We may, 
 I think, trace it to the superstitions of our ances- 
 tors, many generations removed. It is but the con- 
 fused hum of their distant voices, echoing and rever- 
 berating up the long corridors of time. 
 
 Thus, the savage of to-day — and from such we 
 are ascended — believes that his idol of wood or 
 stone insures to him success in hunting, victory in 
 battle, or drives the game away or brings defeat, 
 blesses him with health or curses him with disease. 
 Therefore, he seeks, by flattery or threats, to cajole 
 or terrify it to his service. And do not fragments 
 of this old-time chrysalis still encumber the wings 
 of our larger development ? 
 
 In an English manufacturing town, not many 
 
SELF-HELP IN RELIGION 21 
 
 years ago, an epidemic broke out, and people died 
 by hundreds. The mills were closed. The town 
 was draped in mourning. Upon the door of nearly 
 every house appeared the sad insignia of loss. The 
 death-carts thronged the streets. The doctors were 
 baffled, and all agreed that this must be a chastise- 
 ment sent from God as a rebuke for sin. They who 
 were able repaired daily to the churches, and there 
 besieged the throne of grace with passionate appeals 
 for mercy. 
 
 As winter approached, the plague was stayed, 
 only to break out with increased virulence upon the 
 opening of spring. And thus on for three long years 
 in succession, in spite of homilies and discourses, 
 in spite of prayers and prostrations, until it seemed 
 as though the Father had forgotten or cared not for 
 the sufferings of his children, and the rebellious 
 cried out, with the wife of Job: "Dost thou still 
 retain thine integrity f Curse God, and die I " 
 
 At last, a man of science came, who, setting aside 
 all theories of divine wrath, applied himself to dis- 
 cover a natural cause for the phenomenon. His 
 attention was directed to a large pool of stagnant 
 water at one side of the town ; and inquiry revealed 
 the fact that this basin had formerly been dry, but 
 now served as a sink for the reception of garbage. 
 He had this thoroughly drained and cleansed, then 
 filled up the depression with rocks and earth. No 
 sooner was this accomplished than the plague ceased, 
 and returned no more. The town was saved, and 
 renewed its wonted prosperity. 
 
22 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 Will any one contend for a moment that these 
 people suffered through special visitation of God? 
 I think not. Their suffering was clearly the result 
 of their own act, in the infraction of those laws 
 which the Divine Ruler has decreed for our govern- 
 ment. Nor do I believe that the prayers of all 
 Christendom would have changed the result. The 
 people had spent three years in prayer, when one 
 ■week of action was all that was necessary. 
 
 Nor is this an exceptional case. Each one here 
 could supplement it with a dozen — equally apt — 
 from his own observation or experience. 
 
 Arguing then from these facts to the general 
 principle, we shall find that nine-tenths of human 
 misery arises from infraction of law, and that relief 
 must be sought by conforming our lives to the 
 divine will, not by seeking to warp the divine will 
 to the false pattern of our lives. 
 
 Does this view do away with the necessity of 
 prayer*? It does not. It makes that duty the more 
 imperative. The divine will being manifested in 
 fixed laws which control our lives, it behooves us 
 to acquaint ourselves intimately with the nature of 
 those laws ; and this we shall best accomplish by 
 striving to bring our spirits into communion with 
 that of the Divine Law-giver. Therefore, at this 
 point, the question arises. What is prayer? 
 
 In answering this question, the mind naturally 
 reverts to that most beautiful prayer commended 
 by Jesus to his disciples, and in daily use among us, 
 — a prayer in which the divine fatherhood of God 
 
SELF-HELP IN RELIGION 23 
 
 was SO eloquently recognized and affirmed. This 
 shall be our example of what the spirit of prayer 
 should be. 
 
 And, next, we ask. What is the object of prayer } 
 And what was Jesus' probable object in formulating 
 the Lord's prayer.? 
 
 No one will question that he had an object; and 
 this must certainly have been one of two, — either to 
 direct God or to instruct and benefit man. It could 
 not have been the first : therefore, it must have been 
 the second. 
 
 Turning now to this prayer, we find that its 
 second petition reads : " Thy will be done on earth 
 as it is in heaven." Now, bearing in mind the con- 
 clusion at which we have already arrived, — that his 
 object was to instruct and benefit man, — what did 
 Jesus mean by these words, — " Thy will be done " .' 
 
 To my mind, he meant much more than the neg- 
 ative sense of submission and resignation to the 
 divine will, in which they are usually interpreted. 
 Did he not rather mean — his teaching being ad- 
 dressed to man — that the divine will is to be sought 
 out by man, and, being found, is by man to be done? 
 In this sense I believe he meant the words, and in 
 this sense I use them. 
 
 Hence, we learn that prayer is not only commun- 
 ion with God and exaltation of soul to the Divine : 
 it is also action. It is, first, the seeking after, and, 
 second, the doing of the Father's will. Every 
 experiment of the inventor is a prayer for further 
 revelation of the divine will. Every furrow turned 
 
24 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 by the ploughman is a petition to heaven for bread. 
 Every blow upon the anvil is an aspiration to God. 
 
 Does this view tend to weaken our faith in the 
 overruling providence of God ? It does not : it in- 
 tensifies this. 
 
 Suppose that Drachenfels Castle stood so high 
 above the Rhine valley that from its summit the 
 whole course of that mighty river — from its source 
 to its outlet — should at a glance be revealed. Now 
 let one seat himself upon the parapet, and, looking 
 afar off to the south-east, amid snow-clad Alpine 
 peaks, detect a little spring just bubbling from the 
 ground. Now it overflows; and a tiny brooklet, 
 like a thread of silver, leaps laughing down the 
 mountain side. 
 
 Fed by the melting snows and swollen by sister 
 streams, it gains in volume and in force. Now it 
 enters Lake Constance, and, emerging thence, leaps 
 the Rhine, falls and sweeps onward in majestic 
 grandeur, calm but irresistible, past republics and 
 empires and kingdoms and states, until it meets and 
 mingles with the great ocean beyond. 
 
 Adown the stream float many ships, great and 
 small, freighted with differing cargoes, and bound 
 on diverse missions. The mariner steers from head- 
 land to headland only, and knows nothing beyond 
 the little limit of his daily horizon. But, to that 
 watcher on the height, the journey is known in its 
 entirety; for he sees the whole course. 
 
 And may we not thus picture the Divine Ruler, — 
 raised above and commanding the whole course of 
 
SELF-HELP IN RELIGION 2$ 
 
 time ? We are the mariners on that mighty river, 
 steering from headland to headland, and performing 
 our daily tasks within the little circle of our daily 
 horizon. 
 
 We are sore perplexed at times by adverse winds', 
 we are cruelly bruised by rude waves which buffet 
 us ; yet we have faith that, to his watchful eye, the 
 source and the outlet, the start and the goal, the 
 sum of pleasure and the aggregate of pain, are all 
 alike revealed. 
 
 " For it is God which worketh in you." 
 
 Oh, what a thought is here ! Every aspiration to 
 the Divine, every endeavor toward higher things, 
 every duty performed, is the impulse of the God 
 within. Even as the clouds, ascending from the 
 ocean, drift far inland and spend themselves in rain 
 and snow upon distant mountain peaks, yet rest not 
 until they return to the sea, so the divine impulse 
 in our souls, though congealed by worldliness and 
 wasted on sin, yearns ever for the Infinite Source 
 whence it came. Like the prodigal, though we 
 wander in far countries and feed our souls with 
 husks, yet are we assured that our Father hath 
 bread enough and to spare ; and, guided by the lamp 
 of his love, we struggle onward and upward toward 
 our home. 
 
 What a grand example of true self-help — self- 
 help founded in a sublime trust on God — was the 
 life of Jesus ! 
 
 "Ah," you say, "but he had a genius for religion 
 and for good works." 
 
26 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 True : he had, — perhaps, the greatest ever pos- 
 sessed by man. And what is genius ? 
 
 It is a drop of dew, at morning enclosed in the 
 tiny chalice of a flower, at noon permeating all 
 space. It is a breath, drawn by an infant ; expelled 
 by a Cicero. It is a speck of ink upon a quill-point, 
 which shall startle the world. It is the latent fire in 
 a fagot that shall destroy the universe. 
 
 Yes : it is an engine of tremendous capabilities ; 
 but, without the applied motor of labor, it must ever 
 remain barren of result. Like the unbent bow of 
 absent Ulysses, idle genius speeds no arrow to the 
 mark. 
 
 The mission of genius is to seize upon the trifling 
 incidents of every-day life, to probe them for their 
 hidden meanings, and by a few skilful touches to 
 render them immortal. This was Jesus' task ; and, 
 when we consider how brief was the period of his 
 ministry, and how limited the field of his labor, the 
 results he accomplished are truly wonderful to con- 
 template. 
 
 As a poor carpenter, he toiled at his trade until 
 middle life, then left the bench to become the ac- 
 knowledged leader of the world's thought. With 
 the axe of inspired genius, he hewed planks from 
 the block of ever-existent Truth, and built therefrom 
 a causeway binding earth to heaven. He has gone 
 before, and countless millions follow after. If we 
 also would attain that heavenly goal, we must walk 
 in his steps, hearken to his teaching, and emulate 
 his example. 
 
SELF-HELP IN RELIGION 27 
 
 But, alas! our cries of "Lord! Lord!" are so 
 vehement and persistent that they drown the voice 
 of the Master, and we lose the import of his 
 message. 
 
 O my brothers, let us be silent, and hearken to 
 his words : " Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, 
 Lord, shall enter into the kingdom, but he that 
 doeth the will of my Father." 
 
 "He that doeth the will." This is the doctrine 
 of self-help, this is the grand law of human devel- 
 opment. Rung by rung, we climb the ladder which 
 lifts us to God. 
 
 Let us then seek to know the Father's will ; and, 
 finding that, let us as Jesus did work out our own 
 salvation with fear and trembling, remembering 
 alway that it is God which worketh in us. Whether, 
 therefore, we eat or drink, or whatsoever we do, let 
 us do all to the glory of God, and walk "as seeing 
 Him, who is invisible." 
 
 Father, we ask thy guidance throughout this our 
 earthly pilgrimage and in our search for the hidden 
 things of thy law. Teach us thy will, and grant us 
 strength to perform the same; and make us day by 
 day to grow to be more worthy to be called thy 
 children. Amen. 
 
INDIFFERENCE. 
 
 " To whomsoever much is given, of him shall much be required." 
 — Luke xii., 48. 
 
 Many centuries ago, a king died in Thebes ; and, 
 when the body was embalmed for burial, a few 
 grains of wheat were placed between the folds of 
 linen covering the right hand. We know not by 
 whom, we know not why this was done. It may 
 have been an idle superstition, it may have been a 
 custom of wise significance. And so — doubtless, 
 with many tears and lamentations — the dead king 
 was laid away in the tomb of his ancestors, and the 
 door was hermetically sealed. 
 
 Generation succeeded to generation, century to 
 century, cycle to cycle. At last, the tomb was 
 opened ; and in the withered hand of the dead king 
 those seeds were found, the life-germ in each still 
 perfect. They were planted, and bore fruit, which 
 was in turn planted, and thus on, until the fields of a 
 continent laughed beneath their burden of Egyptian 
 gold ; and, to-day, the hungry of a world are fed by 
 the bounty of that dead hand. 
 
 In like manner, many centuries ago, Jesus of 
 Nazareth placed in the hand of a world spiritually 
 dead the living germs of Divine Truth. Through 
 the long dark ages, entombed in stolid ignorance, 
 
INDIFFERENCE 29 
 
 they slumbered ; and, when at last they saw the light, 
 their yield was but scanty and sadly choked with 
 weeds. But, pregnant of vital force, year by year 
 that yield has grown ; and, to-day, we, heirs of the 
 ages, reap the harvest which was sown in tears and 
 fertilized with blood. 
 
 But the pangs of that Mother-past, by which we 
 have attained to spiritual manhood, are nothing to us 
 now. We turn down the page of history, and close 
 our ears to the cries of anguish echoing and rever- 
 berating up the long corridors of Time. The dark 
 shadow of ignorance behind us serves as a fitting 
 background to our nineteenth century enlightenment. 
 
 Though our ancestors cruelly persecuted their 
 followers for conscience' sake, yet they have been 
 kind to us, their descendants; and we must not 
 quarrel with their memory. The bluest of blue 
 blood flows in our veins ; the wisdom of the ages is 
 assorted in our heads ; the mantle of refinement 
 droops gracefully from our shoulders. We are 
 proud of all that we have, we are proud of all that 
 we have not, and we are proud of our pride. 
 
 And to this intense self-complacence we have 
 added a supreme indifference. Striplings of twenty 
 ape the stoicism of men of the world at fifty, and 
 enthusiasm upon any subject is regarded as the 
 sign manual of vulgarity. And yet, admitting that 
 enthusiasm is vulgar, is it not, nevertheless, at 
 times a good thing. As Shakspere puts it, — 
 
 " Why should a man, who^e blood is warm within, 
 Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster ? " 
 
30 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 We are blas^ and indifferent. Why ? Certainly, 
 not because we have fathomed the deeps of knowl- 
 edge or scaled the heights of the Infinite. As well 
 might one from the hotel roof in Geneva pretend to 
 overlook the topmost peak of Mont Blanc. Were 
 we not blinded by egotism, we should see that peak 
 rises above peak in far distance, and that the final 
 ascent is for a generation millions of years removed. 
 Indifference is not the mark of profundity, but 
 rather of superficiality. Small attainments and 
 large conceits go hand in hand. The tyro is ever 
 self-complacent, and the apprentice vaunts his three 
 months' knowledge ; but the master, through large 
 experience, has learned modesty and silence. Show 
 me a man of true culture, deep and broad, and I will 
 show you a man simple and unaffected as a child. 
 Thus, Sir Isaac Newton, at eighty, said that his life 
 had been but that of a babe gathering shells on the 
 shore, while the great ocean of Truth lay unexplored 
 beyond. 
 
 The rosary, hung on Wisdom's hands, 
 With ready tongue Youth glibly tells ; 
 
 But faltering Manhood slowly spells, 
 And Age, abashed, in silence stands. 
 
 The men and women who have moved the world 
 were one and all enthusiasts. Take Buddha for 
 example, who exchanged his royal purple for the 
 yellow cere-cloth of a beggar, and preferred the vile 
 contents of an alms-bowl to the dainties of a king's 
 table, — all that he might learn the secret of salva- 
 tion, and teach it to men. 
 
INDIFFERENCE 3 1 
 
 Or Jesus, who, from his baptism in Jordan until 
 his death on Calvary, ceased not to proclaim with 
 ardor the coming of the kingdom, and earnestly to 
 incite men to repentance. 
 
 Or Paul, who counted "all things but loss for 
 the excellency of the knowledge of Christ," and 
 was even esteemed a madman for the gospel's sake. 
 
 The power of enthusiasm to impel men and move 
 the world is unquestioned ; but,- alas ! we have no 
 desire to do either. Like the old man in the fable, 
 all we ask is to be let alone. 
 
 The Unitarian Church claims to be — and un- 
 questionably is — the church of progressive thought. 
 Finding the ruts worn in an effete past too narrow 
 for the chariot wheels of our larger development, 
 we have left the beaten track still pursued by our 
 contemporaries, and alike braving their censure and 
 disregarding their prophecies of disaster, with Reason 
 for our guide and science for our companion, we 
 explore the universe. 
 
 But the Unitarian Church is also pre-eminently 
 the church of aristocratic indifference. According 
 to modern philosophy, hell being a myth and 
 heaven open to all, there would seem to be no 
 necessity for zeal. There being no fire to extin- 
 guish, why should we weary ourselves working the 
 engine of salvation .' There being no souls in 
 danger, why should we hoist the ladders of escape 1 
 So, alas ! we reason, and what is the result ? 
 
 Of three hundred and fifty churches reported by 
 the Association, more than one-fourth are without 
 
32 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 pastors ; and, of these, a considerable proportion have 
 no service whatever. 
 
 On the other hand, in the very places where we 
 fail, the churches which pursue the beaten track of 
 old-time thought are thronged by eager crowds. 
 Let Moody and Sankey visit any city in the Union, 
 and every seat will be filled, while their Unitarian 
 competitors preach to empty pews. There must be 
 a lesson underlying all this; and, if we can attain 
 to it, it may be of service to us. 
 
 You say that our faith, being founded in reason, 
 appeals to the understanding only, hence only the 
 cultured few respond ; that the old faiths, being 
 founded in feeling, appeal to the masses, to whom 
 feeling is all in all. I think this is a fair statement 
 of the case. But what is the underlying principle 
 of every form of worship .' You say it is religion. 
 True, and what is religion .' 
 
 Religion has been defined as " the sense of the 
 supernatural " ; and, accepting this definition as cor- 
 rect, we find that the religious principle is not 
 partial in its distribution, but is inherent to the 
 race, and manifests itself in all classes and condi- 
 tions of men, even from the lowest to the highest 
 in the scale, — from the fetich worship of an African 
 to the broad spiritual conception of our own Emer- 
 son, if you will. Now, if we would find the seat of 
 the religious principle, we must look for it in that 
 which is common to all conditions of men. Feeling 
 fulfils this requirement of universality, while thought 
 does not. All feel, but all do not think. And, if this 
 
INDIFFERENCE 33 
 
 proposition be disputed, you will at least admit that 
 feeling is the only arbiter of thought, — a feeling of 
 conviction. You think and reason over a question, 
 and at last y^^/ convinced. 
 
 Hence, we find that religion is founded in feeling, 
 of which emotion is the outward expression. 
 
 Now, if we symbolize feeling by a grape-vine, 
 though it may grovel upon the ground, and bring 
 forth some fruit of indifferent quality,. yet it needs 
 the trellis, thought, to bring its fruit, action, to the 
 highest perfection. 
 
 We find, therefore, that, while religion is rooted 
 in feeling, it needs the support of reason to reach 
 its highest development in right living. If we ex- 
 clude reason, religion degenerates into superstition. 
 If we exclude feeling, religion has no standing- 
 ground, and worship ceases to be worship. True, 
 it may retain the form of worship without the 
 spirit, even as a corpse retains the form of humanity 
 after the soul has fled. But the form, in such case, 
 has become a mere scholastic exercise of the reason- 
 ing faculties. The church is turned into a school- 
 house, and communion with God means only rhetor- 
 ical display. We attend the play of " Hamlet," and 
 find the part of Hamlet omitted. 
 
 This, I think, has been our mistake. In the pride 
 of reason, we have excluded feeling from our ser- 
 vice, hence religion has no longer a place therein. 
 In extinguishing the conflagration, we have put out 
 the hearth-fire. In subduing the fever, we have 
 frozen the patient. 
 
34 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 It is related in the church legends that a certain 
 monk was favored with a vision of the Virgin ; and, 
 as he sat gazing on the wondrous apparition, a 
 beggar solicited alms at the door. But, lost in an 
 ecstasy of devout adoration, the monk heeded him 
 not. Whereupon, the vision sternly addressed him : 
 " Leave me, and attend to thy brother's need, or I 
 will leave thee to thine undoing." 
 
 Even thus, lost in adoration of a glorified "Christ," 
 we forget the example of the man Jesus. We hear 
 his words with reverence, but we heed them not. 
 We cry aloud, " Lord ! Lord ! " but neglect to do 
 the will. 
 
 It is time that we took a step backward. We 
 have had enough and to spare of well-bred apathy, 
 and the results have been disastrous, to an extreme. 
 Let us now have a little of the old-time enthusiasm 
 of our fathers, a little of their warmth and earnest- 
 ness and zeal. This mode may not be so polished 
 as our present habit ; but, without a doubt, it will be 
 much more effective. In religion as in business, if 
 we would accomplish anything, we must off with 
 our coats, and put our shoulders to the wheel. If 
 we do this, we need have no fear for the future ; and 
 the man who hangs back shirks his duty. The crit- 
 ical period in the history of the Unitarian faith has 
 been reached and passed, and the outlook to-day is 
 brighter than ever before. It depends now upon 
 Unitarians to make the Unitarian organization a 
 power in the land. 
 
 We claim to have attained to a higher religious 
 
INDIFFERENCE 35 
 
 conception than have others : then, it is our duty to 
 raise them to the plane we occupy. "Ah!" you 
 say ; " but the missionary spirit has never prevailed 
 in our organization." Then, it is time that it did ; 
 " for none of us liveth to himself, and none dieth to 
 himself." Every talent we possess is a sacred trust 
 from God for the benefit of man ; and " to whomso- 
 ever much is given, of him shall much be required." 
 
 We have had enough and to spare of slothful 
 indifference. The sun is high in the heavens, and the 
 harvest waits for us. We have had enough and to 
 spare of pulling down : let us now begin to build up. 
 We have had enough and to spare of denial, and 
 the age of afifirmation has come. Man is a fact ; 
 religion is a fact ; the life of Jesus is a fact ; and 
 the all-pervading, all-enfolding Unity of God is the 
 one supreme fact, within which this minor trinity 
 rests secure. Here, then, is a firm foundation, on 
 which we may establish a faith that shall win the 
 aillegiance of the world. 
 
 Did I say that hell is a myth .? Alas ! it is a 
 fearful reality. Did I say that heaven is open to 
 all ? Alas ! it is not. The hell of iniquity yawns 
 for the unwary, and the gates of heaven are doubly 
 locked and trebly barred by sin. Millions of our 
 fellows are lost in the night of ignorance and 
 steeped to the lips in vice. The moans of their 
 misery bear witness against us before the throne of 
 God ; and yet we dare to affect indifference, and ask, 
 "Am I my brother's keeper ?" 
 
 I say unto thee, O man ! O woman ! I say unto 
 
36 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 each individual soul within the sound of my voice, 
 and I would that I had the voice of a Stentor, to 
 reach the ear of every dweller upon this broad 
 earth, — "According to the multitude of your gifts, 
 so is your responsibility. You have received much, 
 and 'to whomsoever much is given, of him shall 
 much be required.' " 
 
 We have no right to be indifferent. We have no 
 right to rest. Rest is for the dead. Action is the 
 privilege of life. This life is a life of warfare. 
 Ignorance, sin, and misery ravage the land. The 
 trumpet sounds the charge ; and shall we rest idly 
 on couches of down, closing our eyes with compla- 
 cence, shutting our ears to the clarion call of duty, 
 the clash of battle, the cries of the stricken ? As 
 well might we slumber in the tomb with that Egyp- 
 tian king who for thousands of years held locked 
 in his dead hand the sleeping potentiality of mighty 
 harvests. 
 
 Then awake! thou that sleepest, and arise from 
 the dead : the world hath need of thee. Rouse thee 
 from the dull lethargy of indifference, and disclose 
 the costly treasure thy right hand holdeth ! Here 
 is hid the wisdom of the ages, — aspirations of poets, 
 meditations of seers. Scatter abroad, and spare not ! 
 To-day is thy opportunity, and the field of thy labor 
 is the limit of thy horizon. Be thine the highest or 
 be thine the lowliest sphere, thy mission is the same, 
 — to advance the cause of man, to foster in his heart 
 the golden grain of virtue, to extirpate the weeds 
 of ignorance and vice. Though but a link in the 
 
INDIFFERENCE 37 
 
 endless chain of being, thou art still a link; and, 
 though thou be but the weakest, yet in the power 
 of the weakest is the integrity of the whole chain 
 tested. 
 
 " The harvest truly is plenteous, but the laborers 
 are few." Work thou to-day, looking backward to 
 Jesus and forward to his second coming ; for, assur- 
 edly, he will again come in the larger development 
 of man. And thy life shall live and grow and blos- 
 som and bear fruit in that larger development, and 
 " generations yet unborn shall rise up and call thee 
 blessed. " 
 
IMMORTALITY. 
 
 " If a man die, shall he live again ? " — Job xiv., 14. 
 
 In this question, tiie most ardent yearning of the 
 human heart is expressed, " If a man die, shall he 
 live again ? " It was asked at the first d&,wn of reason 
 in the primal savage. It is asked in the intellectual 
 noontide of this nineteenth century. It will be 
 asked as the final night of oblivion descends on the 
 last denizen of earth. 
 
 Civilization intensifies this yearning : barbarism 
 degrades it ; yet, even for the wild Indian, there 
 exists a future life in the happy hunting-grounds of 
 the Great Manitou. 
 
 The Mohammedan, helped by the hands of houris 
 over the abyss of hell, — bridged by a sabre's edge, 
 — enters paradise, and atones for a life of absti- 
 nence with an eternity of excess. 
 
 The Hindu, passing through countless forms, 
 arrives at last at the supreme state of perpetual 
 felicity. His senses trebly steeped in the dull Lethe 
 of forgetfulness, he knows not, recks not of past, 
 present, or future. He is become a divine nonen- 
 tity, a glorified cipher in that vast sum whereof 
 Brahma is the sole unit. 
 
 That instinct in man, which promises a life be- 
 
IMMORTALITY 
 
 39 
 
 yond the grave, is undoubtedly inherent. It ante- 
 dates all records that remain to us, and is at least 
 shadowed in the sacred writings of all nations. 
 True it was only an incident to the early Jewish 
 faith, but of Christianity it is the corner-stone. 
 
 Still, in this age, all beliefs are questioned. The 
 materialist holds immortality a mere fanciful crea- 
 tion of the brain, utterly opposed to sober reason 
 and to all the teachings of the book of nature. 
 " As the mighty oak-tree, born of an acorn, matures, 
 bears fruit, and falls into decay, so lordly man [he 
 says] fulfils his mission in the propagation of his 
 kind, pays back to nature those elements he bor- 
 rowed, only for a time, and becomes once more part 
 and parcel of the insensate clod." 
 
 So far as man's physical structure is concerned, 
 these are facts, and must be admitted as they stand. 
 But what of the intelligence which marked him in 
 life, and which surely was as much himself as was 
 his physical structure, — nay, was not this in fact 
 himself .■' 
 
 " His intelligence," is answered, " merges in the 
 general floating mass of intelligence that pervades 
 and directs all matter." 
 
 Every theory honestly advanced touching a vital 
 subject demands our honest consideration. That 
 age of the world is past when schoolmen could 
 safely retire to their fortress of theological dogma, 
 and by dint of mere vantage-ground bid defiance to 
 the sappers of scepticism, the miners of reason, 
 and the explosives of common sense. The thinker 
 
40 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 of to-day cannot afford to rest idly on the dim tradi- 
 tions of the past. The world is progressive in every 
 department, and he who enters the arena of thought 
 must keep pace with the times. 
 
 The sole aim of all honest investigation is truth. 
 The sole aim of all honest discussion is to teach the 
 truth to others. Our prayer to God alway should be, 
 — let our prayer to him now be, — "Give me the 
 truth, though it slay me ! " Then let us calmly seek 
 the truth in this matter ; and, finding that, whatever 
 the result, let us abide thereby. 
 
 Every reasonable man is prepared to admit the 
 existence of that subtle force exercised by each 
 individual upon his fellows, which we call influence. 
 But I doubt if we ever realize, even approximately, 
 the full effect of our influence upon the world at 
 large. 
 
 Science tells us that every vibration of the vocal 
 chords causes a corresponding vibration of the sur- 
 rounding air-waves ; and the ripple thus produced is 
 transmitted in turn to others, and yet other waves 
 beyond, even as still water is put in motion by a fall- 
 ing pebble. 
 
 In like manner are we encompassed by the waves 
 of humanity. In like manner are these human 
 waves affected by us. Each one of us, no matter 
 how high or how low his or her condition, is daily ex- 
 ercising some degree of influence, either for good or 
 for ill, not only upon the generation now existent, 
 but also upon all generations to come. There is no 
 waste in the realm of matter. There is no waste in 
 
IMMORTALITY 4 1 
 
 the realm of mind. Our word or our act does not 
 perform its whole mission, when it reaches its im- 
 mediate object : its mission is to all time. 
 
 The champions of the truth in the past are still 
 with us in the present. They are not dead, they do 
 not even sleep, but are to-day more actively engaged 
 by far in the advancement of humanity than when 
 they trod the earth. The circle of each has widened, 
 and is ever widening. Then, they were poor, per- 
 secuted, and despised, and had but few followers. 
 Now, the nations unite to do them honor, and kings 
 bow down before them. 
 
 Here, then, is an immortality of influence on earth 
 admitted by the materialist. But is this all ? Is 
 there nothing beyond ? 
 
 When the poor Hindu mother, carrying her 
 stricken babe in her arms, asked of Buddha a remedy 
 for death, he told her to procure mustard-seed from 
 a house where none had died. And, when she 
 returned from the fruitless quest, saying, — 
 
 " Ah, sir, I could not find a single house 
 Where there was mustard-seed and none had died ! " 
 
 He sought to comfort her by the reflection, — 
 
 " The whole wide world weeps with thy woe ! " 
 
 But how barren of comfort was this for the bereaved 
 
 mother, — 
 
 " That loss is common would not make 
 My own less bitter, rather more." 
 
 The bruised spirit cries out in anguish against such 
 
42 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 vain solace, and demands imperatively, — Is there 
 nothing beyond ? 
 
 That there is cannot be demonstrated ; for no 
 traveller hath e'er returned, once having crossed 
 that bourne. That there is not cannot be main- 
 tained ; for the soul springs up indignant, and gives 
 the lie to reason. Thus, we are thrown back upon 
 analogy and induction, and must argue from ascer- 
 tained facts to the general principle toward which 
 they seem to lead. 
 
 Appealing, then, back to nature, the illustration 
 advanced by our opponent, as the winds of autumn 
 sweep through the forest, chilling the sap and 
 stripping the leaves, might not the trees, gazing 
 sadly on that one of their number first denuded, and 
 now standing gaunt and apparently lifeless against 
 the sky, say, "And this is the end " .' 
 
 Yet the spring-time shall reclothe the forest with 
 beauty as before. Surely, herein, nature teaches 
 immortality, and not death. 
 
 Again, we have seen that the belief in a future 
 life has existed among all races, in all countries, 
 from all times whereof any record remains to us. 
 Let us go a step further. 
 
 All nature breathes of law. The tiniest atom 
 and the mightiest globe are alike pervaded thereby. 
 Were it then reasonable to suppose that the mind 
 of man has been exempted from its all -controlling 
 power .' The belief in immortality having been 
 ever existent among all conditions of men, in all 
 portions of the earth, may we not justly assume this 
 
IMMORTALITY 43 
 
 to be a law of mind, as indelibly stamped by the 
 Divine Author as are the many laws which govern 
 and control matter ? 
 
 Again, man alone, of all the animals, possesses 
 a mind godlike in its scope and power. By means 
 thereof, he has triumphed over the forces of nature 
 and fettered the elements. Winds blow to waft 
 him, oceans are his thoroughfares, the lightnings 
 are his messengers. He has made good the elfin 
 boast, and "girdled the earth in forty minutes." 
 Yet is he satisfied ? No. He is as keen to-day in 
 the pursuit of knowledge as were his ancestors in 
 Egypt five thousand years ago. In wisdom there is 
 no satiety, since she ever recreates the hunger that 
 she feeds. The heart stretches out her hands 
 toward God, and the soul thirsteth for Him that is 
 her life. Yet, 
 
 " If man is only born to die, 
 
 Whence his inheritance of hope .' 
 Whereof to him alone are lent 
 Riches that never can be spent ? " 
 
 Again, many of the lower animals exhibit intelli- 
 gence to a degree bordering on the human. But, so 
 far as we may judge, these creatures rest perfectly 
 satisfied with their several conditions. Not so man. 
 
 Let any individual fix his hope on some definite 
 goal, and let him attain his heart's desire to the 
 utmost : is he satisfied ? 
 
 No. The goal is now removed further up the 
 ascent or takes a different form. When this is 
 
44 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 attained, yet there is a feeling of disappointment 
 and discontent, and so on until the end. And, now, 
 this goal is placed " beyond the veil," and the dim 
 eyes are striving to pierce futurity, in search of that 
 vague prize which, so often found in fancy, has ever 
 in fact eluded the anxious grasp. 
 
 I have seen an artist stand before a picture his 
 hand had wrought, and, while thronging multitudes 
 rained plaudits on the work, his brow alone was 
 clouded with dissatisfaction and gloom. They saw 
 but the painted canvas, and to them it glowed with 
 divine beauty ; but he saw the ideal fancy which 
 prompted his effort, and mocking demons shouted 
 " Failure ! " in his ears. 
 
 I ask, then, if there be nothing beyond this world, 
 why are we not satisfied with the prizes it affords ? 
 If our hope of immortality be vain, why does not 
 earth life satisfy soul hunger ? 
 
 Going a step further in this discussion, let us 
 apply a simple test. Let each one ask himself or 
 herself these questions, "Who am I? What am I?" 
 then follow the thought out to its logical result. 
 
 These garments are not /. When they are re- 
 moved, I yet remain. 
 
 Is this body I .' Let us remove it piece by piece, 
 even as we remove our garments; and, so long as 
 the soul is here, let it assert its presence. 
 
 Cut off these arms, " yet I am here ! " These 
 limbs, "yet I am here!" Dissect this trunk, 
 "yet I am here!" Even when the axe has fallen, 
 and the severed head of Walter Raleigh is held up 
 
IMMORTALITY 45 
 
 by the rude hand of the executioner, the reproachful 
 eyes turn, and say, — oh, how eloquently! — "Yet I 
 am here ! " And as the death-damps gather on that 
 broad brow, and the soul — freed from its prisoning 
 labyrinth of nerves and tissues — wings its way 
 through space, may not our soul sense almost catch 
 the exultant spirit cry, " Yet I am here, and I am 
 immortal ! " 
 
 We all have moments — more or less frequent — 
 during which the individual seems lifted nearer to 
 God and to heaven ; when the soul, like a caged 
 eagle, beats against the bars of its dungeon, and 
 struggles to be free. At such moments, the veil 
 seems drawn aside, and immortality stands out to 
 our quickened vision, — not only as a hope, not only 
 as a belief, but as something we know to be a 
 fact. 
 
 At such moments, the logic of the materialist is 
 as dry chaff before the whirlwind of God's coming. 
 At such moments, I laugh to scorn the man who 
 denies that somewhere, safe in the fostering arms of 
 Infinite Love, our loved ones watch and wait, to 
 welcome us home. 
 
 This innate consciousness of man's unending ex- 
 istence was the grandest emphasis of Jesus' life and 
 teaching. Throughout his whole career, — in season 
 and out of season, at all times and in all places, — 
 he ceased not to insist, with the utmost confidence, 
 on the absolute truth of this doctrine of the immor- 
 tality of the soul. 
 
 To the Sadducees, — the materialists of his day, — 
 
46 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 he said, "God is not the God of tke dead, but of 
 
 THE LIVING ; for ALL LIVE UtltO Mm." 
 
 How great, then, is our responsibility ! Here is 
 an immortality of influence on earth. Here is an 
 immortality of individual soul life. 
 
 May God open the eyes of each to realize this 
 responsibility, and quicken us by his grace to shape 
 our lives accordingly ! 
 
FAITH. 
 
 " Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him : but I will maintain 
 mine own ways before him." — Job xiii., 1 5. 
 
 Such was the grand resolve of pious Job. 
 
 Stripped of his possessions, his children destroyed, 
 his life rendered miserable by loathsome disease, he 
 yet trusted in God. The darker the night of his 
 affliction, the brighter shone the lamp of his faith. 
 Upbraided by his wife for what seemed to her an 
 ill-founded trust, he remained constant. Wearied 
 by the hypocrisy of his friends, he opposed their 
 reasoning, yet maintained the honor of God and 
 affirmed the justice of the Most High. 
 
 Yet his was no blind submission to the arbitrary 
 decree of a higher power. Throughout the dialogue, 
 we find ourselves brought constantly face to face 
 with that great riddle which has perplexed the ages, 
 and which challenges our faith to-day, "Why are 
 the righteous afflicted, while the wicked prosper ? " 
 
 It is useless to deny the fact, for it is patent to 
 all. God makes no distinctions in his treatment of 
 men. " He maketh his sun to rise on the evil and 
 the good, and sendeth rain on the just and the 
 unjust." 
 
 Nor can we evade the question by answering 
 
48 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 that none are in fact righteous. Righteousness and 
 wickedness are comparative terms. Judged by the 
 standard of God, the righteousness of man would 
 be vile indeed. Judged by the standard of man, we 
 find many men whose lives commend themselves to 
 our admiration and respect. Common sense teaches 
 us that the unit of comparison must be of a class 
 with the thing compared. We do not compare 
 stones with trees, or animals with men. Neither 
 need we look for infinite holiness in finite humanity. 
 
 Judged by the standard of man, Job was righteous ; 
 and, conscious of his integrity, he did not hesitate to 
 affirm it : " Though he slay me, yet will I trust in 
 him : but I will maintain mine own ways before him." 
 
 Whoever was the author of the story of Job (and, 
 unfortunately, we have no clue to his identity), he 
 was certainly far in advance of the then prevalent 
 religious thought. With a courage which would be 
 commendable in an advanced thinker of to-day, yet 
 with exceeding delicacy of statement, and in a pro- 
 foundly religious spirit, he arraigns the apparent 
 imperfections of the divine plan, and seeks in this 
 seeming discord for the key to a higher harmony. 
 And, though he fails to find that key, he yet believes 
 the harmony exists, and, submitting to the divine 
 will, kisses the rod that smites him. 
 
 We find a similar lesson conveyed in the story of 
 Abraham. Long childless, in his old age a son is 
 granted to him ; and it is promised that he shall 
 be the father of many nations. And yet, as if in 
 retraction of that promise, the commandment comes, 
 
FAITH 
 
 49 
 
 "Take now thy son, thine only son Isaac, whom 
 thou lovest, and get thee into the land of Moriah ; 
 and offer him there for a burnt offering upon one of 
 the mountains which I will tell thee of." 
 
 However monstrous the idea of human sacrifice 
 may be to us, it was familiar enough in those early 
 times. The theory of sacrifice among the Hebrews 
 and other primitive nations was that the more valu- 
 able the gift, the more acceptable would it be to the 
 Deity. Thus the firstlings of the flock from Abel 
 found favor with Yahweh, but the fruit of the 
 ground brought by Cain was despised. In like 
 manner, a bullock was regarded as a more honorable 
 sacrifice than a lamb, and a man than a bullock. 
 Captives taken in battle were the usual victims, but 
 children of the household also frequently suffered ; 
 and an only child, or the best beloved, was consid- 
 ered the most acceptable offering of all. 
 
 Thus we read of Jephthah slaying his daughter in 
 fulfilment of a vow ; and the prophet Micah refers 
 to the custom in these words : "Wherewith shall I 
 come before the Lord, and bow myself before the 
 high God ? shall I come before him with burnt 
 offerings, with calves of a year old ? Will the Lord 
 be pleased with thousands of rams, or with ten 
 thousands of rivers of oil ? shall I give my first- 
 born for my transgression, the fruit of my body for 
 the sin of my soul ? " 
 
 But, while abhorring this barbarous practice which 
 doubtless suggested the story of Abraham to its 
 author, we must not allow our disgust to blind the 
 
50 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 eyes of our mind to the really valuable lesson of 
 faith herein contained, — the faith of a father will- 
 ing to sacrifice the hope of his life, his only and 
 much-loved child, upon the altar of duty. 
 
 In many respects, this picture far surpasses the 
 other ; for, while the afflictions of Job came upon him 
 suddenly, and from without, Abraham was appointed 
 the executioner of his own hope, and, as if to 
 refine the torture of the ordeal, was sent on a three 
 days' journey to the place of sacrifice, carrying the 
 lad with him ; yet he submitted without a murmur 
 to the decree of Heaven. 
 
 Such deeds of heroism are not without parallel in 
 real life, and in our own time. The same spirit of 
 faith which enabled Job, weighed down by afflic- 
 tion, to affirm the goodness of God ; the fervent 
 trust which nerved Abraham uncomplainingly to 
 offer up his only son as a sacrifice, is abroad in the 
 world to-day, and, moreover, is to-day dignified by a 
 higher conception of the Divine. For example, how 
 often do we find persons weighed down by sorrow, 
 and afflicted with sickness, yet maintaining their 
 faith in the goodness and mercy of God ! How 
 many thousands of fathers and mothers in our late 
 war offered up their loved ones on the altar of 
 humanity, and said, " Thy will be done " ! The faith 
 of Job, the trust of Abraham, find followers daily 
 in every home. For we all have our sorrows to 
 bear, we all have our sacrifices to make ; and, 
 were it not for that divine spirit of faith and trust 
 breathed into our souls, it would be hard for us in- 
 deed. 
 
FAITH 5 1 
 
 Yet faith is in man a plant of tardy growth, and 
 is only evolved by slow degrees from lower phases 
 of mental activity. Thus, commencing with the 
 lowest savage, we find that, strictly speaking, he has 
 no faith. When he first attains to self-conscious- 
 ness, he regards himself as the centre of the uni- 
 verse, which revolves about him, and is for his 
 especial use. As he advances into the second stage 
 of his spiritual curriculum, he recognizes a power 
 without himself, and beyond his control ; and, feel- 
 ing — as might a lawful monarch — dethroned by a 
 more powerful usurper, he assumes an attitude of 
 antagonism to his environment. 
 
 In the third stage, finding the environment too 
 strong for him, he seeks to propitiate it by sacrifice. 
 But, failing in this also, and still suffering at the 
 hands of an unknown power, he at last sullenly 
 submits to what cannot be helped. 
 
 Thus far, the plane of faith has not been rfeached. 
 But now let abject fear give place to reverent awe, 
 and selfish sacrifice to loving worship, and sullen 
 submission to joyful self-surrender. Then faith shall 
 have her full and perfect work. 
 
 Tennyson says, — 
 
 " There lives more faith in honest doubt, 
 Believe me, than in half the creeds." 
 
 And he says truly. Job, with all his doubts and 
 questionings, showed more faith by far than did his 
 friends, who stood blindly by the creed of their 
 time, "which wise men have told from their fathers." 
 
52 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 But he depended rather on his own observation than 
 on blind tradition handed down by the fathers. 
 Common sense taught him that, humanly speaking, 
 absolute justice finds no place in this world; and 
 common honesty obliged him to maintain that fact. 
 But, in spite of doubt, his heart clung to God; and, 
 submitting to the decree of Heaven, he took refuge 
 in the utter incomprehensibleness of the divine 
 thought, "Though he slay me, yet will I trust in 
 him." His friends, on the other hand, tried to slur 
 over the inequalities of life, and held him impious 
 in even recognizing them. 
 
 But what folly was this ! We all know that, by 
 the law of nature, the sins of the parent are visited 
 upon the child ; but we all know equally well that, 
 humanly speaking, that law is not just. This was 
 the position taken by Job, and it has never been 
 answered. We are compelled, therefore, to the con- 
 clusion that there must be a higher law, which we 
 at present know not, and which vindicates the ways 
 of God to men. 
 
 Throughout the Hebrew Scriptures, we are 
 brought constantly face to face with that old-time 
 fallacy, that prosperity is the mark of God's favor, 
 and adversity the signal of his wrath. So firmly 
 was this belief fixed in the Israelitish mind, that the 
 writers of the Old Testament invariably measured a 
 man's piety by his wealth, and the reverse. Yet, 
 were this indeed true, the noblest of our race in 
 every age must have been the condemned of God. 
 Tried by this rule, the life of Jesus was a failure ; 
 for poverty and suffering were his lot throughout. 
 
FAITH 53 
 
 And here we mark the direct antagonism existing 
 between the Hebrew and Christian formulas of 
 faith ; for he, " going to the other extreme, re- 
 garded wealth as an absolute hindrance to salvation, 
 and made poverty a pre-requisite of discipleship. 
 " One thing thou lackest : go, sell whatsoever thou 
 hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have 
 treasure in heaven : and come, follow me." 
 
 " How hardly shall they that have riches enter 
 into the kingdom of God ! " 
 
 By such errors of philosophy, our leader is doubly 
 endeared to us; for they prove his humanity. He 
 was the great radical of his time, and in such say- 
 ings as these we find the excessive reaction of a 
 noble mind rebelling against the sordid faith of the 
 day, which pictured God as a paymaster, and his 
 servants as workers for a wage. 
 
 But, on the other hand, he required a wealth of 
 soul in his disciples of which the old dispensation 
 knew nothing. The rule of conduct he gave them 
 was the highest conceivable : " Ye therefore shall 
 be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect." 
 
 The faith he required of them was an absolute 
 faith, founded in love to God and man : " Thou shalt 
 love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with 
 all thy soul, and with all thy mind. This is the great 
 and first commandment. And a second like unto it 
 is this, Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself." 
 
 Here he prescribes the act of faith in our love to 
 God, and the test of faith in our love to man. 
 
 Nor was he satisfied with love to friends only 
 
54 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 " For if ye love them that love you, what reward 
 have ye ? do not even the publicans the same ? " 
 "Love your enemies, do good to them that hate 
 you, bless them that curse you, pray for them that 
 despitefully use you." 
 
 We are apt to think this a hard injunction to 
 follow, yet that it is possible for man so to do was 
 proven by Jesus himself; for, nailed upon the cross, 
 he prayed for those who placed him there, " Father, 
 forgive them ; for they know not what they do." 
 
 In this doctrine of universal love which Jesus 
 taught, we find the highest form of faith. It is not 
 a matter of creed, it is but the simple trust of the 
 little child. It is the absolute self-surrender of 
 love, which seeks not to define or formulate, but 
 only loves. 
 
 We hear much of unbelief in the world to-day, 
 and the term "atheist" is freely used. For my 
 part, I do not think there is now, or ever has been, 
 an " atheist " in the world. I have known men who 
 called themselves "atheists," and who honestly 
 thought they were " atheists," yet abounded in the 
 fruits of faith ; who succored the widow and the 
 fatherless, and, while doubting all formulas of God, 
 did deeds which proved their faith in the Divine. 
 He who loves man loves God through man ; and, 
 though with his latest breath he deny God, yet his 
 life denies his denial, and affirms his faith in God. 
 
 "There is no unbelief. 
 Whoever plants a seed beneath the sod, 
 And waits to see it push away the clod, 
 Trusts he in God. 
 
FAITH 55 
 
 " There is no unbelief. 
 Whoever says, when clouds are in the sky, 
 ' Be patient, heart ! Light breaketh by and by,' 
 Trusts the Most High. 
 
 " There is no unbelief. 
 For, day by day, and night by night, unconsciously. 
 The heart lives still by faith, though lips deny, 
 God knoweth why." 
 
 In the Vedic literature of India, we find this apho- 
 rism : " He who thinks he knows God knows him 
 not. He who thinks he knows him not, he knows 
 him." 
 
 I quoted this saying to a Baptist brother, not long 
 since ; and so much struck was he by the force and 
 beauty of the underlying thought, that he declared 
 he would use it in his next sermon. 
 
 And, after all, what matters the fashion of the 
 theological flag under which we sail .■• Be it Episco- 
 pal or Baptist or Methodist or Presbyterian or Uni- 
 tarian ; ay, be it Buddhist or Mohammedan, or what- 
 ever it may be, though we worship in differing 
 phrase, yet we all worship the same God. O my 
 brothers, what matters the name, if only the heart 
 be true .' What matters the creed, if only the life 
 be right .' " Pure religion and undefiled before our 
 God and Father is this, to visit the fatherless and 
 widows in their affliction, and to keep himself un- 
 spotted from the world." 
 
 But, on the other hand, what formula of faith 
 shall cover the deformity of an evil life ? In the 
 parable of the two sons commanded by their father 
 
$6 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 to go work in his vineyard, he who refused in word, 
 but acceded in deed, was justified rather than he 
 who said, " I go, sir," and went not. Faith and 
 works are the two oars of the boat. We make the 
 best and steadiest progress by pulling both ; but if 
 we can have but one only, then let that one be 
 works, by all means. Thus the apostle James says : 
 " What doth it profit, my brethren, if a man say he 
 hath faith, but have not works .' can that faith save 
 him .' . . . Wilt thou know, O vain man, that faith 
 apart from works is barren .' . . . For as the body 
 apart from the spirit is dead, even so faith apart 
 from works is dead." 
 
 And Jesus said : " By their fruits ye shall know 
 them. Not every one that saith unto me. Lord, 
 Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven ; but 
 he that doeth the will of my Father which is in 
 heaven." 
 
 Nor are these sentiments confined to Christianity 
 only. They rest not upon creed, but are of the 
 very essence of religion, and pervade the spirit of 
 all beliefs. Thus we find Mahomet teaching his 
 disciples, " One hour in the execution of justice is 
 worth seventy years of prayer." 
 
 Emerson says truly, "When you define God, he 
 ceases to be God." And why should we seek to 
 define him } Is it not enough to feel that he is, and 
 to rest assured that he careth for us ? 
 
 In every blade of grass I see 
 
 A witness to his tender care ; 
 He blossoms in the fruitful tree, 
 
 His whispers thrill the listening air. 
 
FAITH 57 
 
 His footprints flow in gentle rills, 
 His glances wake the morning ray ; 
 
 He sits upon the evening hills, 
 
 And paints the steps of parting day. 
 
 He opens in the buds of spring. 
 He smiles where summer harvests glow ; 
 
 His peace the autumn breezes bring. 
 His winter wraps the earth in snow. 
 
THE UNREALIZED IDEALS OF LIFE. 
 
 " Now we see in a mirror, darkly ; but then face to face : now 
 I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I have been 
 known." — I. CoR. xiii., 12. 
 
 The mirror of the ancients here referred to was 
 a disc of polished metal attached to a carved handle 
 of wood or ivory. It was used not only at the 
 toilet, but also for purposes of divination and the 
 forecasting of future events. The reflection seen 
 therein was but dim and uncertain, as compared 
 with that of our modern mirrors of glass ; and this 
 fact must be borne in mind to a proper understand- 
 ing of the significance of our text. In the revised 
 New Testament, the word " riddle " is given in the 
 margin as an equivalent for mirror ; so that we 
 might as justly read the passage, "Now we see in a 
 riddle, darkly." 
 
 It is related of Michael Angelo that, standing 
 one day, mallet and chisel in hand, before a block of 
 marble, he cried out in sudden ecstasy to the stone, 
 " Oh, what a vision of marvellous beauty dost thou 
 enfold!" 
 
 Do you suppose he ever realized from the block 
 the conception which that moment entered his 
 mind .' 
 
THE UNREALIZED IDEALS OF LIFE 59 
 
 I question it. The ideals of great minds are 
 never realized here, for the simple reason that their 
 power of imagination far transcends their capacity 
 of execution. Only base minds rest satisfied under 
 the chain of limitation that fetters the hands of 
 men. As we painfully ascend the scale of being, 
 our horizon of capacity widens ; yet imagination and 
 desire ever ply beyond the farthest limit, and traverse 
 the waste of infinity, looking vainly for a resting- 
 place. The soul, 
 
 Like some proud eagle which was wont, 
 From distant skies, to scan the plain, 
 Entrapped, now vainly strives to mount. 
 And madly wrestles with its chain. 
 
 As if to illustrate this fact of unrest and dissatis- 
 faction which pervades our human consciousness, it 
 happens that Michael Angelo has left upon his 
 greatest work in marble the imprint, as it were, of 
 the noble discontent that filled his soul. 
 
 In the church of St. Pietro in Vinculo, at Rome, 
 the visitor's attention is arrested by a sculpture of 
 exceeding merit. It represents the gigantic figure 
 of a man, in sitting posture, dressed in flowing 
 robes, and wearing on his head the typical horns of 
 inspiration. The figure, and the chair in which it 
 is seated, are carved from a single block of white 
 marble. You recognize the picture at once. It is 
 the " Moses " of Michael Angelo. 
 
 .Gazing in rapture on that wonderful creation, 
 awed by its dignity, charmed by its grace and beauty, 
 
60 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 we say that here, at least, the artist must have 
 attained to his ideal, and have transfixed it in marble, 
 for all the world to gaze upon. But, looking closely, 
 running down the bare right knee of the figure, we 
 detect a dark undulating line, and see that at this 
 point the marble is fractured, as though by violence. 
 Yet this unsightly flaw becomes perhaps the most 
 interesting thing about the statue when we have 
 learned its history. 
 
 Our guide-book tells us that, filled with a wondrous 
 conception of the great Hebrew prophet-leader, 
 Michael Angelo had toiled for many months to 
 evolve that conception from the stone. Rising 
 early and working late, he spared neither time nor 
 strength. Gradually the figure grew in symmetry 
 and beauty. Now the mallet struck more carefully, 
 the chisel moved more deftly in giving the finishing 
 touches to the work. At last all has been done that 
 human skill can do, and the figure stands boldly 
 forth, a magnificent counterfeit of life, — yet only a 
 counterfeit. And the soul of the great artist is 
 wrung as he realizes that, after all his toil, the 
 result is but senseless stone, hewn to the similitude 
 of a man. 
 
 Standing before it in a fervor of anguished aspira- 
 tion, in an agony of weary disappointment, he cried 
 out, " Oh, speak, my Moses ! " and, raising his 
 mallet, let it fall heavily on the bared knee. More 
 heavily than he had thought ; for the fractured marble 
 to this day bears witness that what seems to us an 
 almost perfect creation was to the artist but another 
 failure. 
 
THE UNREALIZED IDEALS OF LIFE 6 1 
 
 This absolute certainty of failure to realize the 
 ideal is the stumbling-block of all art, and goes far 
 toward breeding the morbid and gloomy habit of 
 mind which frequently possesses professional and 
 even amateur artists. 
 
 There was never a picture painted, 
 
 There was never a poem sung, 
 But the heart of the artist fainted. 
 
 And the poet's soul was wrung ; 
 There was never a grand conception 
 
 In the veinfed marble wrought, 
 But the hour of its inception 
 
 With bitterness was fraught ; 
 For each knew that his fond endeavor, 
 
 Though he strove with utmost might. 
 Must fail of its meaning ever, 
 
 As darkness fails from light. 
 
 And, in a humble way, we are all artists and sculp- 
 tors in the studio of life. Or, as Longfellow has it, 
 
 " All are architects of fate. 
 Working in these walls of Time " ; 
 
 and each has his aspirations toward the unattainable, 
 his ideal imaginings never to be realized on earth. 
 They take ' their rise in the sources of our life ; 
 they grow with our growth and strengthen with our 
 strength. A divine unrest, an unsatisfied longing 
 for we know not what, takes possession of the soul, 
 and remains with it throughout life. Who shall say 
 that it leaves the soul at death ? May not this, in 
 fact, be the germinant force which shall impel it 
 onward and upward through all the vicissitudes of 
 eternity ? 
 
62 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 The question arises, then, Since we here fail to 
 realize our ideals, shall we cease to pursue them ? 
 God forbid ! for then progress would cease utterly. 
 Though Michael Angelo failed to embody in the 
 marble the vision of his imagination, yet he created 
 that which has been a joy to millions, and has 
 helped to humanize and civilize the race. For 
 every form of beauty, whether natural or artificial, 
 be it autumn sunset or dream on canvas, be it 
 statue wrought in marble or wild flower of the 
 forest ; every harmonious sound, be it song of bird or 
 note of music ; every evil impulse of the heart sub- 
 dued, every good deed done, — each fulfils its ap- 
 pointed eind in the advancement of man. 
 
 " I count this thing to be grandly true : 
 
 That a noble deed is a step toward God, 
 Lifting the soul from the common sod 
 To a purer air and a broader view." 
 
 And, in these multiform failures, disappointments, 
 and unsatisfied longings of our human life, surely 
 the reverent soul may trace the workings of a 
 divine plan. Progress is the immutable law of 
 God. But suppose our every attempt yielded its 
 full fruition of result ; that success was the certain 
 reward of effort.' Then, progress would surely 
 cease ; for there would be no incentive to exertion. 
 The savage of the Tropics sits beneath his fruit 
 tree, feeds lazily on the food prepared for him by 
 over-bountiful nature, and remains to the last a 
 savage. The savage of less favored zones compels 
 
THE UNREALIZED IDEALS OF LIFE 6$ 
 
 tardy nature to yield her store, and emerges victo- 
 rious from the conflict, a man. Heaven itself must 
 be a state of striving and progression, else to us it 
 were not heaven. A heaven of idleness, with all 
 accomplished, and nothing to strive after, must be- 
 come a very hell of satiety and disgust. 
 
 You say that frequent disappointment naturally 
 results in discouragement. True. But suppose that 
 a philanthropist labors year by year among the out- 
 cast and depraved, yet makes no visible progress. 
 Shall he assume therefore that his labor has been 
 vain > Surely not. Even thus the sower casts his 
 seed into the dark, cold ground, and hopes for its 
 fruition. It may germinate and grow, it may fail 
 and decay ; a thousand chances may prevent. But, 
 did he withhold his hand for fear of failure, there 
 would be no bread. Your mission is the advance- 
 ment of man. Your life is but a drop in the great 
 ocean of existence. Yet every drop has its place, 
 and the aggregate of all floats many ships. What 
 if you cannot see the direct result of your effort .' 
 Though the world moves slowly, still it moves, and 
 you are a part of the motive power. "In the 
 morning sow thy seed, and in the evening withhold 
 not thine hand : for thou knowest not whether shall 
 prosper, either this or that, or whether they both 
 shall be alike good." 
 
 Our great difficulty is want of faith. We gaze 
 into the darkened mirror, and complain because only 
 a distorted reflection is returned. Rather should we 
 thank the Giver of all good that any reflection is 
 
64 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 vouchsafed to us, and that the mirror grows clearer 
 from generation to generation. Rather should the 
 gloomy page of history serve as a foil to the clearer 
 message of to-day ; and, though we may not sun 
 ourselves in the full glory of noontide, we can at 
 least detect the daybreak blushing in the east. 
 
 In the last throes of our great national struggle, 
 — a struggle in the name of God and enlightenment 
 for the uplifting of man, — the eyes of a world rested 
 on one central figure. 
 
 Reared in poverty, with muscles hardened by toil, 
 Abraham Lincoln had risen, by patient merit and 
 native force, to be chief magistrate of a great nation. 
 He took the helm in troubled times, and safely 
 steered the ship of state through all the perils of 
 civil warfare. Already the haven of peace had 
 been sighted, already the bar had been passed, 
 and we all breathed more freely, — when our captain 
 fell, stricken down by the dastard hand of an assas- 
 sin. At the sound of that shot, a wail of unbelief 
 went forth from the hearts of men, — " Can God 
 exist, and such things be ? " 
 
 Yet the death of our leader cemented more closely 
 the Union he had saved ; for friends and foes vied in 
 condemnation of the deed, and mingled their tears 
 above his clay. To-day there is no North and no 
 South, but a great and prosperous nation, one and 
 undivided, whose remotest citizens clasp hands in 
 friendly intercourse, and twine garlands of palmetto 
 and pine, to deck the graves of our common dead. 
 
 Then we saw "as in a mirror, darkly"; but 
 
THE UNREALIZED IDEALS OF LIFE 6$ 
 
 already we can realize that this " our light affliction, 
 which was for the moment, hath worked for us 
 more and more exceedingly an eternal weight of 
 glory." 
 
 Not long since, we watched the two great political 
 parties of our country struggling for the mastery. 
 Their conventions met, and leaders were selected. 
 When the name of James A. Garfield was an- 
 nounced, we questioned eagerly, " Who is he ? " for 
 he was, comparatively speaking, an unknown man. 
 On the day of his election, I stood in a great city, 
 and heard foul-mouthed Slander, urged on by party 
 hatred, do her worst. A few months later, I stood 
 again among a dense crowd in which all party lines 
 were obliterated by a common woe. A crowd who, 
 with blanched faces and quivering lips, scanned the 
 bulletin announcing that once again the chosen 
 leader of our nation had fafllen by the bullet of an 
 assassin. We all shared the days, weeks, months of 
 suspense which followed : a nation watching by the 
 bedside of him who had so quickly won for himself 
 a home in every heart, a place by every fireside. 
 
 In a Southern city, I stood amid thousands as the 
 train sped by, bearing our stricken one to the sea- 
 shore. I saw tears start from eyes all unused to 
 weep, and roll down the scarred cheeks of veterans 
 who had withstood him on the field of strife. I 
 heard a thousand lips, unaccustomed to prayer, unite 
 in a heartfelt petition wafted up through the clear 
 summer air unto the throne of grace, "God bless 
 him, and restore him to health." 
 
66 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 Yet he died. And your tears and mine were 
 mingled with those of the bereaved wife, with those 
 of the aged mother in that distant hamlet. But not 
 from ocean to ocean only, not only from city to 
 city of this Union was the pulse of sorrow stirred ; 
 but the great heart of humanity responded to the 
 divine influence of sympathy, and one touch of 
 nature made the whole world kin. 
 
 What, I ask, were his few remaining years of life 
 to this ? Was it a little thing that hostile nations 
 and diverse creeds and party factions should forget 
 their differences, even for a day, to weep above that 
 bier ? 
 
 Though in our sorrow the mirror seemed dark 
 indeed, yet already we realize the hand of God in 
 the event ; for, fruitful as was that life, and abun- 
 dant in promise, yet his death hath borne fruit in 
 the hearts and lives of men a myriad-fold increased. 
 
 The saddest cry this world has ever heard was 
 that last despairing wail from the lips of Jesus on 
 the cross, " My God ! my God ! why hast thou for- 
 saken me .' " 
 
 It was the mourning cry of a great soul over what 
 seemed to him the wasted effort of a life. In all the 
 fervor of an enthusiastic nature, in all the purity of 
 a noble heart, he had truly walked with God ; and, 
 inspired by that communion, he had not hesitated to 
 claim kinship with the Divine for the sons of men. 
 He had gone further. He had looked beyond the 
 present, with its baseness and littleness of purpose, 
 and in the horoscope of a far future he had seen 
 
THE UNREALIZED IDEALS OF LIFE ^J 
 
 men — as Jacob saw the angels in his dream — 
 treading their low desires under foot, and rising as it 
 were on stepping-stones of their dead selves to 
 worthily partake of their spiritual inheritance. 
 
 He had devoted his life to the redemption of man 
 from the bondage of sin ; and now, nailed to the 
 ignominious cross, scourged and buffeted, mocked 
 and jeered by those he had sought to save, denied 
 and forsaken by his friends, is it to be wondered at 
 that at last his great heart quailed ; that, in that last 
 bitter moment, the retrospect of life seemed to dis- 
 close but a vain struggle after an impossible ideal, 
 and that even God had forsaken and cast him off ? 
 
 Yet he saw but in a mirror, darkly ; for the hour 
 of his seeming defeat was the hour of his greatest 
 triumph. Every pang he suffered strengthened his 
 cause. Every drop of blood he shed vitalized and 
 made fruitful the truths he had uttered. Had he 
 lived, — humanly speaking, — Christianity, of small 
 beginning, might have been of as short duration. 
 Like a thousand other faiths, started by other re- 
 formers, its light would probably have flickered and 
 gone out, in time. But his death, so cruel and un- 
 merited, coming as a climax to a life so pure and 
 good, arrested the thought of men, and compelled 
 their attention. 
 
 Truth is mighty, and must prevail ; but how shall 
 truth prevail if it be not heard ">. The death of 
 Jesus aroused the sympathies of men, and thus be- 
 spoke their attention to the truth he taught. Preg- 
 nant of vital force, it took root in their hearts : it 
 
68 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 grew and bore fruit. Its influence has steadily 
 increased with the lapse of time ; and, to-day, four 
 hundred millions of our race worship in the name of 
 Him who esteemed his life wasted, and himself for- 
 gotten of God. 
 
 O my brothers, what a lesson is here, if we 
 will but heed it ! " My thoughts are not your 
 thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the 
 Lord." 
 
 Every aspiration, every ideal longing that visits 
 our life, is an impulse from the Divine toward higher 
 things. And, though they often seem to us unreal- 
 ized and futile, if they serve to incite us to honest 
 effort, they are not sent in vain. God giveth the 
 increase, but he giveth it in his own way, and at his 
 own time. Now we sow in tears, but we shall yet 
 reap in joy. "Now we see in a mirror, darkly; but 
 then face to face : now I know in part ; but then 
 shall I know even as also I have been known." 
 
HOPE. 
 
 " I will hope continually, and will yet praise thee more and more." 
 — Psalm Ixxi., 14. 
 
 The English poet Rogers spent twenty years in 
 writing a poem on the pleasures of memory. Surely, 
 a lifetime would be too short to sing the pleasures 
 of hope. And when shall we find a more fitting 
 season to sing such a psean than now, — when gray- 
 beard Winter hath fled, and jocund Spring adorns 
 herself as a bride, and, coming forth arrayed in a 
 thousand delicate tints, blushes and thrills beneath 
 the fervent glances of the amorous sun. 
 
 Every wood and covert is vocal with the songs of 
 birds, every blade of grass is jubilant with the hum 
 of insects. The squirrel scolds noisily at the passer- 
 by, or leaps from branch to branch in play. The 
 wild rabbit has stripped her breast of down to make 
 a warm, soft bed for her little ones. The swallows, 
 like swiftly flying shuttles, weave their web of play 
 over the glassy surface of the pond, or, chattering in 
 noisy convention, decide on a place of abode. The 
 robin calls to his mate, and they take sweet counsel 
 together, as they carry materials and build the nest 
 which shall shelter their future brood. The cattle, 
 freed from the bondage of the stall, roam the mead- 
 
^0 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 ows and daintily crop the succulent herbage. The 
 young lambs bleat on the hillside, or totter on un- 
 certain legs after their careful dams. All the heart 
 of nature rejoices, for it is the spring-time of hope ; 
 and man, the crown of all, rejoices with all. 
 
 In the Greek legend. Pandora is represented as 
 having been sent by the gods to men, bearing a box 
 filled with winged blessings. But, carelessly raising 
 the lid to peep within, all escaped save one, — only 
 hope remained to cheer the race. 
 
 O greatest gift from the Giver of all good gifts 
 to men, divine hope, I sing thy praise ! I see thee 
 in the love-light of the mother's eye, as she bends 
 over her sleeping babe, and casts the horoscope of 
 a glad future, when he, her son, shall mould the 
 decrees of destiny, and shape the future of a world. 
 I hear thee in the prattling of the infant, as he lisps 
 his aspiration toward that far-off time when he shall 
 attain to the stature of manhood, and by the might 
 of his puissant arm win victory over fate. In the 
 calmer outlook of maturity, or in man's fevered 
 striving for the toys of sense, again I know thee. 
 And yet again, when, tottering on the brink, he 
 trembling stands, and dares to plunge, leaving the 
 event to God. 
 
 Truly, we are cradled in hope, we live in hope, we 
 die in hope. 
 
 And why should we not hope .' Hope is the 
 earnest of fruition. " First the blade, then the ear, 
 then the full corn in the ear." Hope is the whis- 
 pered promise of God. The impulse of life is ever 
 
HOPE 71 
 
 upward and onward toward perfection ; and the cry 
 of the psalmist is the cry of creation: "As the 
 hart panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my 
 soul after thee, O God. My soul thirsteth for God, 
 for the living God : when shall I come and appear 
 before God ? " 
 
 Hope is the main-spring of action. Without it, 
 nothing would be attempted, nothing accomplished. 
 The fields must remain untilled, the seed unsown, 
 business must stagnate. The streets of our great 
 cities must be covered with grass. This active, 
 eager life of ours must shortly lapse into a very 
 death in life, if we had not hope. 
 
 You say that despair has sometimes achieved 
 success when hope has failed. This is, I think, a 
 popular mistake. The despair which works and 
 wins, which fights and conquers, is in fact but hope 
 disguised. 
 
 The bankrupt who commits forgery to avert 
 impending ruin may be said to have been impelled 
 thereto by despair; but, in fact, he hoped against 
 hope that he should yet retrieve his losses, and con- 
 ceal his crime before discovery. 
 
 The Spartan three hundred at Thermopylae spent 
 their lives not in the fury of despair, as is generally 
 stated, but in the heroism of hope : first, the hope of 
 vengeance on their foes ; and, second, the hope 
 of immortal remembrance. 
 
 Despair, pure and simple, is a negative condition, 
 and the victim thereof remains passive. Thus, 
 afflicted Job, having lost all hope, sat silent in his 
 
72 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 misery ; but, when the first shock was past, hope 
 reasserted herself, and, while affirming that he had 
 no hope, he yet expressed himself in the language 
 of hope. Hear him : " And where is now my 
 hope ? as for my hope, who shall see it ? " But he 
 adds : " I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that 
 he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth. 
 And though after my skin worms destroy this body, 
 yet in my flesh shall I see God. Whom I shall 
 see for myself, and mine eyes shall behold, and not 
 another; though my reins be consumed within me." 
 But, while according to hope her full meed of 
 praise, we must not confound hope and knowledge. 
 Tennyson says, in " In Memoriam," — 
 
 " We have but faith : we cannot know ; 
 For knowledge is of things we see." 
 
 And Paul writes to the Romans, "By hope were 
 we saved : but hope that is seen is not hope : for 
 who hopeth for that which he seeth ? " 
 
 No matter how strong our faith, how fervent our 
 hope, we cannot predicate knowledge of that which 
 our eyes do not behold. To do this, be he preacher 
 or layman, is to affirm what is false. 
 
 I do not know that wrongs are righted 
 
 After these frail bodies die ; 
 I do not know that, wisdom-lighted, 
 
 There lives a life beyond the sky : 
 I only hope these things are so, 
 But that they are I do not know. 
 
 I do not know there is a heaven, 
 Nor even that a God there be ; 
 
HOPE 73 
 
 I do not know that, sin-forgiven, 
 
 My soul shall live eternally : 
 I only hope these things are so, 
 But that they are I do not know. 
 
 Let us be honest with ourselves and with each 
 other. Let us not abuse common sense by abuse 
 of terms. Hope is the anticipation of a future fact. 
 Knowledge is the mental imprint of a present one. 
 If it were true that " coming - events cast their 
 shadows before," we might style hope the advanced 
 shadow of knowledge. When, at a funeral, Robert 
 G. Ingersoll afifirmed his creed to be " Help for the 
 living, hope for the dead," he really said all that the 
 most enthusiastic Calvinist can say with truth ; for 
 the dead have passed beyond the bounds of knowl- 
 edge, and are become the subjects of hope. 
 
 For centuries, the whole Christian world regarded 
 the Book of Revelation as a verbal photograph of 
 heaven, a very guide-book to the New Jerusalem. 
 So accurately had it been surveyed and measured, so 
 minutely was every detail described, that believers 
 on their death-beds studied the account as travellers 
 study the chart of a foreign land which they intend 
 to visit. To-day, we realize that this assumed state- 
 ment of facts is but a religious fiction, a poem of 
 devout aspiration, grand, beautiful, sublime, but quite 
 as unreal as Tennyson's " Lotus Land " or Hesiod's 
 " Islands of the Blessed." The difficulty with this 
 author was that he affirmed knowledge, when he 
 only had hope. Our faith in God and in the future 
 life, to-day, is as strong as was his; but, did a 
 
74 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 preacher of to-day appear before you in such assert- 
 ive spirit, and venture a detailed description of the 
 Supreme Being, and of the future state, portraying 
 its pleasures and its duties, and even describing the 
 garments worn by disembodied spirits, courtesy 
 might keep you in your seats, but the very limit of 
 courtesy would hardly repress a smile. 
 
 But, while disavowing knowledge of that which we 
 see not, so long as faith and hope abide witli us we 
 can afford to wait. By inspecting the bud, we may 
 not certainly describe the lovely rose which shall be ; 
 yet within its folds the rose lurks in embryo, and 
 the present bud is an earnest of the future flower. 
 So, gazing upon man, we are inspired by the convic- 
 tion that in him lurk possibilities not realized on 
 earth ; that here is but the embryo of a future as 
 far transcending the present as the rose surpasses 
 the bud. 
 
 Imagination is the handmaid of hope. Following 
 the illustration we have just used, on another line of 
 thought, while from the bud we may not accurately 
 describe the rose which shall be, the scope of imag- 
 ination in regard thereto is boundless. And so with 
 the future state. With John on Patmos, we may 
 revel in anticipation, and picture the scenes we 
 hope some day to see. Even as the puny waif of a 
 great city, bred in misery and squalor, dreams of 
 the glad country, with its bright blue skies and 
 arching trees and murmuring streams, with its 
 green fields and gay flowers and glad songs of birds, 
 — even thus, I say, may we fairly exercise our imag- 
 
HOPE 75 
 
 ination to depict that future life which we know not ; 
 for imagination, like hope, is the gift of God, and is 
 sent to be our solace and our stay. Nor need we 
 fear that imagination will surpass the reality ; for, 
 taking this wondrous world in which we find our- 
 selves as the earnest of what shall be, surely we 
 may affirm with Paul, " Eye hath not seen, nor ear 
 heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, 
 the things which God hath prepared for them that 
 love him." 
 
 It is not the realism of the Book of Revelation to 
 which I object, but the nature of that realism. It is 
 the realism of a semi-barbaric age. It is a realism 
 of golden streets, and gates set with precious 
 stones ; of blaring trumpets and flaming swords ; of 
 intense light and glitter and glare. It is not the 
 picture of a place where one could feel at home. 
 There is a metallic ring to everything. If we found 
 shrubs or trees there, they must surely be but metal 
 counterfeits, painted to represent nature. As a 
 child, I remember picturing the glaring light re- 
 flected from those golden streets, until even the 
 thought made my head ache. Think of a dear little 
 baby wandering desolate over those metal pave- 
 ments, in that intense light. 
 
 But now turn from this picture to the one painted 
 by Miss Phelps in her exquisite little book. The 
 Gates Ajar. Here all is home-like. There are 
 shady trees and green lawns and murmuring brooks 
 and birds singing overhead ; color and sound meet- 
 ing and mingling in half-tints and half-tones. The 
 
j6 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 little ones, who passed from our sight years ago, are 
 romping at their games, or learning lessons from 
 wise and gentle teachers. Father and mother are 
 not forgotten, but their coming is gladly looked for, 
 and the days counted until they shall arrive. The 
 friends whose eyes closed long since are here. 
 Freed from the thraldom of the flesh, their souls 
 expand beneath the sunshine of divine love, and 
 drink in the fulness of the perfection of life. 
 
 Here all that gladdened our life on earth hath 
 found a place, and all that vexed us here hath died 
 in death. Here the wise learn wisdom, the holy, 
 holiness, the perfect reach upward toward perfec- 
 tion. Here is the source and crown of all. Here is 
 peace. Here is the fruition of hope. 
 
 May He who planted in the heart of man this 
 divine hope make us worthy of its fulfilment. 
 
CHARITY. 
 
 " Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and 
 have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling 
 cymbal." — I. Cor. xiii., i. 
 
 We have already considered two of the Christian 
 graces. We have found faith indigenous to every 
 soil, yet differing in each. We have found it in 
 every age, tall and stately as the cedars, strong as 
 the giant oak, braving the tempest of disaster, 
 defying the torrent of despair, and year by year 
 putting forth new branches and a more luxuriant 
 foliage. 
 
 We have traced the course of hope like a grace- 
 ful vine, clambering upward by the aid of faith to 
 blossom in the skies. The last and loveliest of the 
 sisters yet demands our attention. " Now abideth 
 faith, hope, charity, these three ; but the greatest 
 of these is charity." 
 
 The greatest of the three ; yet, of the three, most 
 neglected, most abused. We lean on the arm of 
 Faith, we have loving words for Hope ; but Charity, 
 repulsed and stricken, weeps apart, a target for our 
 scorn. Yet when Faith and Hope, like the priest 
 and Levite of the parable, have both deserted us, 
 Charity shall forget her wrongs, and come like the 
 
78 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 good Samaritan to our aid, binding up our wounds, 
 and pouring in oil and wine. Truly, 
 
 " In faith and hope the world will disagree, 
 But all mankind's concern is charity." 
 
 Suppose that, every morning, angel hands should 
 lay upon the doorstep of each one a bust moulded 
 in plastic clay, a bust modelled to the very perfec- 
 tion of human symmetry and beauty, — a perfect 
 character shining through a perfect face ; and sup- 
 pose that, throughout the day, each thought and 
 word of ours regarding every other should be im- 
 printed by its proper expression upon that fa!ce. At 
 close of day, when all were surrendered for inspec- 
 tion, from how many houses, think you, would that 
 bust come forth unmarred.? How many of us each 
 night could report with truth, " To-day, I have 
 passed no harsh judgment, I have spoken no un- 
 charitable word, I have done nothing to impair the 
 loveliness of this divine image " ? 
 
 Alas, not one ! I fear that in every case those 
 angel features would be found transformed, and 
 fiend-like in expression. I fear that no pest-house 
 victim could have suffered worse defacement than 
 the most fortunate of these. Yet every distortion 
 upon that face would be a branded lie, for in our 
 uncharitable judgment of others we never judge 
 truly. 
 
 That bust of plastic clay is hardly an idle fancy, 
 for on the soul of each is recorded the daily life of 
 each. The dart we fling at our neighbor returns. 
 
CHARITY 79 
 
 like the boomerang of the Australian, to wound us. 
 The mire we cast on another defiles our own hands. 
 These scars and defacements of the soul, wrought 
 by our own malice, help to make up the record of 
 our life. Each hour, each day, each month, each 
 year, adds to that record; and at last, bearing with 
 us this marred and tortured travesty of self, marred 
 and tortured by our own merciless attacks upon 
 others, how shall we stand before the bar of God 
 and ask for mercy at his hands .'' How many among 
 us would dare to commence each day with Alexander 
 Pope's " Universal Prayer " } — 
 
 " Teach me to feel another's woe, 
 To hide the guilt I see ; 
 The mercy ! to others show, 
 That mercy show to me." 
 
 The sin of uncharitableness is the crying evil of 
 our time. Not one of us is guiltless. We live in 
 glass houses, yet constantly throw stones ; and the 
 more fragile our tenement, the more fiercely we 
 assail the rest. The woman who lightly impugns 
 the fair fame of a neighbor is not pure at heart. 
 The man who believes all others dishonest needs to 
 be well watched. 
 
 " Who vows no honest people live. 
 At least proclaims himself a knave.'' 
 
 It is not generally known that, in law, the man or 
 woman who repeats a slander is liable equally with 
 the original inventor thereof; that belief in its 
 truth is no defence ; that, even should it be proven 
 
80 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 true, this will not relieve the promulgator from 
 responsibility. By listening to a slanderous tale, we 
 dishonor ourselves, and do a mean act. By repeat- 
 ing it, we commit a criminal one, and are liable to 
 punishment. 
 
 But, if on earth there crawls one creature more 
 contemptible than another, it is the silent slanderer. 
 It is he who tries to avoid the liability of words, 
 but, by meaning looks or a shrug of the shoulders, 
 seeks to convey a slanderous impression. The fair 
 fame of many a spotless woman has been thus 
 ruined, and her life blasted, by some worthless 
 coward who dared not speak what he implied. I 
 never meet such a one but I wish, with the wife of 
 lago, that Heaven would 
 
 " Put in every honest hand a whip, 
 To lash the rascals naked through the world." 
 
 We all like news, and it requires considerable 
 self-denial to refuse to listen to what is offered. 
 Yet, if we have the true spirit, we would afterward 
 give much not to have heard the slanderous tale. 
 Where all was before well, we have now received 
 unpleasant impressions regarding three parties, 
 namely : — 
 
 First, as to the object of the attack ; for, however 
 much we may strive to efface the impression from 
 our mind, however much we may disbelieve the 
 story, its shadow remains, and, like Banquo's ghost, 
 refuses to be laid. 
 
 Second, as to ourself. We feel that we have done 
 
CHARITY 8 1 
 
 wrong in listening. We have thereby lowered our- 
 self in our own estimation. We have done a mean 
 thing, and we have encouraged anothe;: to commit a 
 crime against good morals and common law. We 
 have suffered a loss in self-respect, and the sense 
 of this injury to the finer portion of our nature 
 intensifies. 
 
 Third, our contempt for the scandal-monger who 
 brought us the news ; for, though we may disguise 
 our feelings through policy or courtesy, there is but 
 one coin current in payment for scandal, and that is 
 contempt. The veriest gossips that ever exchanged 
 calumnies over their cups of tea, or their pipes of 
 tobacco, have at heart only contempt each for the 
 other, and will slander each other with equal good 
 will when occasion offers. The scandal-monger 
 knows not friendship. All are good fish that come 
 to his net. He offers his wares to whoever will buy, 
 sells and resells his purchasers, and is sold and 
 resold in turn. I have known people who dared not 
 leave a social circle until the final breaking-up, 
 knowing well that, so soon as their backs were 
 turned, their late cronies would tear their characters 
 to tatters. 
 
 But Charity suffers most through thoughtless 
 gossip, — when neighbor calls on neighbor, at tea- 
 gatherings, at sewing-circles, at market, on the street 
 corner; wherever friend meets with friend to ex- 
 change news. Then words fly swiftly, like weavers' 
 shuttles, and the shroud of Charity is woven. 
 Then the name of some absent acquaintance is 
 
82 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 bandied from mouth to mouth. Then molehills rise 
 to the altitude of mountains, and thoughtless indis- 
 cretions, which the mantle of Charity should hide 
 utterly, are magnified to heinous crimes. 
 
 There is but one sure antidote for the poison of 
 slander, and that is a blameless life. 
 
 Should envy seek to mar thy fame, 
 
 Live it down ; 
 Should malice blacken thy good name, 
 
 Live it down ; 
 Should all the hosts of hell unite 
 To whelm thee 'neath their vengeful spite, 
 And paint thee with the hues of night. 
 
 Live it down, live it down. 
 
 Though lost to thee be every friend. 
 
 Live it down ; 
 The truth will conquer in the end. 
 
 Live it down ; 
 As morning comes, though night be long. 
 As calm succeeds the tempest strong, 
 So right shall triumph over wrong. 
 
 Live it down, live it down. 
 
 We are each conscious that, in the main, we desire 
 to do right. Our slips and backslidings are the 
 result rather of weakness than of evil intent. Like 
 Paul, we see a law in our members warring against 
 the law of our minds, and bringing us into captivity 
 to the law of sin. When we would do good, evil is 
 present with us. 
 
 Being thus conscious of our own integrity of 
 purpose, why should we not be willing to accord the 
 same integrity to others? The fact is that nearly 
 
CHARITY 83 
 
 every one wishes to do right. Our wrong-doings are 
 but excrescences and fungi upon the surface of our 
 lives, and properly no part thereof. They are un- 
 sightly eruptions, come through hereditary taint, our 
 unholy heritage from an impure ancestry ; and from 
 these the fountain of life shall yet be purified. 
 
 What, then, is the remedy for that uncharitable- 
 ness which to-day pervades and renders insecure 
 every branch of society .-' 
 
 •It has been aptly said that, " if each would reform 
 himself, the whole world would be reformed." This, 
 then, must be the remedy. Let us, each and all, 
 this day unite in a solemn pledge before God that, 
 in thought and word and act, we will henceforth 
 extend to all others that kindly and charitable judg- 
 ment which we would ourselves wish to receive at 
 the hands of others. Each morning let us renew 
 our resolution and pledge that, for this day, we will 
 not think an unkind thought or speak an unkind 
 word of any living soul. Let the prayer of the 
 psalmist be our prayer continually : " Set a watch, O 
 Lord, before my mouth ; keep the door of my lips." 
 
 In this connection, I would commend to your 
 attention the three rules of conversation concerning 
 the absent which Martin Luther kept constantly on 
 his table. I will ask you to remember them ; to 
 write them down ; to hang them prominently in 
 your sitting-room, where your eyes and the eyes of 
 all your visitors will naturally rest upon them. 
 Then I will ask you, whenever you speak of the 
 absent, to try every statement by these three rules : 
 
84 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 First, is it true ? Second, is it kind ? Third, is it 
 necessary? Tried by these three standards, how 
 much idle and hurtful gossip would be cut off ! If, 
 when about to speak of the absent, we should pause 
 long enough to apply these three tests to the pro- 
 posed remark, should we not very frequently change 
 the subject, and feave the word unsaid? 
 
 My friends, I have asked your attention to this 
 subject because, to be frank with you, I have reason 
 to believe that the word is needed. I have told you 
 no new thing, for there is nothing new to say. But, 
 as one who every day feels the need of charitable 
 judgment, speaking to men and women equally in 
 constant need thereof, I ask you to join with me in 
 a solemn resolve that, henceforth, we will try to be 
 more charitable in our judgment of others, more 
 careful in what we say of the absent, more un- 
 willing to listen to or believe evil reports of our 
 acquaintance, more anxious to hide faults than to 
 magnify them. Remembering alway that, " though 
 ■we speak with the tongues of men and of angels, 
 and have not charity, we are become as sounding 
 brass, or a tinkling cymbal." 
 
JESUS AND THE FALLEN WOMAN. 
 
 " He that is without sin among you." — ^John viii., 7. 
 
 I ASK you to consider with me that beautiful 
 story of Jesus and the fallen woman, as told in the 
 eighth chapter of the Gospel of John. 
 
 The time is early morning. The place, the inte- 
 rior of the great temple at Jerusalem. Jesus is 
 seated teaching the people, who throng in crowds to 
 • hear him. 
 
 Presently, his discourse is interrupted by the noise 
 of a commotion in the street outside. Now it has 
 reached the doorway. Now a band of his avowed 
 enemies, Scribes and Pharisees, enter, bringing with 
 them a woman taken in sin. 
 
 With dishevelled hair, and eyes streaming tears ; 
 pale, shrinking, conscience-stricken ; having naught 
 to extenuate, having none to advocate ; knowing 
 the penalty, and hopeless of mercy, — she is dragged 
 along by her savage captors. 
 
 With knitted brows, eyes gleaming with fanatic 
 hate, cruel lips which seem to thirst for blood, 
 fingers clenched on the stones ready to throw, and 
 muscles strained for the cruel exercise, these hale 
 her into the temple, bring her before Jesus, and set 
 her in the midst. 
 
86 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 Why have they come ? Is it that He — " who 
 spake as never man spake" — may consider the 
 cause, interpret the law, pronounce the sentence, or 
 remit it ? 
 
 No: their motive is more sinister by far than 
 this. They have one victim ; they seek for another. 
 If, through excess of sympathy, this gentle teacher 
 may be entrapped into heretical interpretation of 
 the law ; if, through all-abounding love, he drop one 
 word which may be distorted into a palliation of the 
 crime, — then, perchance, they may bring him also to 
 judgment, accomplish his ruin, it may be even con- 
 summate his death. 
 
 Ay, and the ferocity of the tiger is here linked 
 to the cunning of the fox. Note their hypocritical' 
 advance, and mark the craftily worded question 
 with which they seek to insnare him : — 
 
 "Master, this woman was taken in adultery^ in 
 the very act. Now Moses in the law commanded 
 us, that such should be stoned : but what sayest 
 thou .? " 
 
 Well know they the tenderness of that loyal 
 heart; loyal to God and humanity, though not per- 
 haps to the strict letter of the Mosaic law. But 
 their craft is vain : he has fatliomed their design ; 
 and, as though he heard them not, he turns away, 
 and with his finger writes upon the ground. Baffled, 
 yet persistent, again and again they importune him, 
 until at last the startling answer comes, thrilling 
 each bosom with a sense of guilt, and flushing every 
 brow with shame : " He that is without sin among 
 
JESUS AND THE FALLEN WOMAN 87 
 
 you, let him first cast a stone at her. And again he 
 stooped down, and wrote on the ground." He turns 
 from them. 
 
 What does he mean 1 " He that is without sin 
 among you " .' Abashed to silence at the word, self- 
 accused and self-convicted, they slink away. What 
 was there in these simple words of Jesus to thus 
 disconcert his enemies ? What is sin ? 
 
 Come with me under the groined arches of a great 
 cathedral, when Mozart's Mass is sung. Commenced 
 by the white-robed priests at the chancel, the chant 
 is caught up and continued by the trained choir at 
 the further end. Now descending to the congrega- 
 tion, now back to the chancel, the waves of melody 
 ebb and flow and surge, in perfect rhythm, like the 
 waves of a mighty ocean pent within walls. 
 
 Closing the eyes, we could almost fancy we have 
 passed from earth, and stand on the threshold of 
 heaven, listening to the choirs of the redeemed. 
 But, hark ! Suddenly, a voice strikes in upon that 
 marvellous measure, wild, harsh, discordant ; now far 
 above, now far below, and ever out of tune. The 
 effect is spoiled, the dream is dispelled. With a 
 sigh, we return again to earth. So the divine har- 
 monies pulsate to the outmost circles of infinity, 
 flowing in melodious waves from the central heart of 
 God ; and sin is that one discordant voice that sings 
 forever out of tune. 
 
 To whom, then, did Jesus speak ? To the Scribes 
 and Pharisees only ? No : he spoke to us also. He 
 speaks to us to-day. No, not to your neighbor, 
 
88 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 but to yourself. That still small voice of con- 
 science in your heart is his voice, applying to your 
 life this test : " He that is without sin among you." 
 
 And what is your answer ? Do you say that you 
 are sinless .■' " If we say that we have no sin, we 
 deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us." Do 
 you say that your sins are but trivial .' No sin is 
 trivial. If thy voice vary ever so little from the 
 divine harmony, yet is it discord, and mars the glo- 
 rious effect. 
 
 What is yoUr sin > Is it pride .■' Are you puffed 
 up with a sense of your importance, of your abil- 
 ity, of your acquirements, of your merits, of your 
 possessions, — forgetting that " God resisteth the 
 proud, but giveth grace to the humble" ? Shall we 
 not value these things ? Yes ; but let our valuation 
 be ever tempered with humility, which is the very 
 first letter in the alphabet of Christianity, 
 
 Is it greed ? Do you at times forget that " he 
 that hasteth to be rich falleth into a snare " .' Shall 
 we not seek wealth ? Yes ; but let us seek it con- 
 scientiously, and with moderation, defrauding no 
 one. Let us seek it as the means to noble ends, 
 but never as the end. To count wealth the aim 
 and measure of life were as sensible as to devote 
 that wealth to the purchase of powerful machinery, 
 then allow this to rust in useless inactivity. Wealth 
 is the machinery to the accomplishment of many 
 worthy ends ; but it can never, in itself, be the 
 fitting object of human life and endeavor. 
 
 Is thy sin secret ? Doth no one know it save 
 
JESUS AND THE FALLEN WOMAN 89 
 
 thyself only? Though thou bury it in the bowels 
 of earth, though thou sink it in the nethermost 
 deeps of ocean, though thou disperse it to the four 
 winds of heaven, yet, like the ghastly corpse which 
 Eugene Aram strove to hide, and could not, it shall 
 be raised to the light of day. The earth and the 
 ocean shall refuse it, the winds of heaven shall 
 return it. That which is told to the ear in secret 
 shall be proclaimed upon the house-tops. Be sure 
 your sin will find you out. 
 
 Do you realize the importance of this matter? 
 Are you awaked to the discord of your life, and 
 would you fain attune it to the divine harmonies ? 
 Does a sense of guilt overwhelm you, and do you 
 cry out with Paul, " O wretched man that I am, who 
 shall deliver me ? " It is a vital question. Who 
 shall deliver you? How shall you be delivered? 
 Shall it be by sacrifice ? No : the Almighty de- 
 lighteth not in burnt offering. Shall it be by sacri- 
 fice ? Yes : " The sacrifices of God are a broken ' 
 spirit : a broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou 
 wilt not despise." Shall it, then, be by sacrifice ? 
 Yes : a sacrifice is demanded of thee, that thou lay 
 thy sin upon the altar. 
 
 And what further? That thou follow Christ. 
 How shall I follow Christ? Consecrate the inner 
 sanctuary of your heart a temple to the living God, 
 and keep it constantly swept clean of every evil 
 thought. Erect therein your highest, holiest, no- 
 blest ideal of manhood or womanhood, and let this 
 stand for your Christ. Then, with all your strength, 
 
go PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 strive ever to bting your daily life up to the plane of 
 this your ideal life ; and, as you progress spiritually, 
 constantly exalt your ideal, remembering that good- 
 ness is limitless, and progress infinite. Tread firmly 
 under foot every hindrance to your upward march, 
 and remember alway that, as Jesus was the child of 
 man, and spent his life in the service of man, so, in 
 serving man, you follow him, and thus serve God, 
 whose servant he was. 
 
 Herein lies the sublimest beauty of the lesson of 
 Jesus' life, — that man must be redeemed by man; 
 and, in the redemption of others, our own redemp- 
 tion is attained. Not, therefore, by the death of 
 Christ are ye saved, but by his life ; not by the 
 blood of God are ye regenerate, but by striving to 
 do his will. 
 
 But, remember, thy tears of to-day will not avail 
 thee, if to-morrow thou dally with thy sin. The 
 law is inexorable. If thou art vacillating, back- 
 sliding, and relapse into sin ; if thou take again to 
 thy bosom that thou hast rejected, and again 
 commit that that thou hast been pardoned, — so 
 surely as night follows day, and effect treads upon 
 the heels of cause, so surely the unswerving laws of 
 God shall sooner or later overtake thee, and punish- 
 ment repay thy crime. 
 
 Do you plead weakness, your inability to resist 
 temptation .' We are all more weak than wicked, 
 yet are we not so weak as we would fain make our- 
 selves believe. How, then, shall I conquer in this 
 spiritual conflict ? In precisely the same manner 
 
JESUS AND THE FALLEN WOMAN 9 1 
 
 that you conquer other difficulties : by summoning 
 your manhood, by asserting, your independence, by 
 refusing longer to be a slave to your slaves, — your 
 passions and baser impulses. 
 
 Shall I pray ? Yes : pray without ceasing. Wres- 
 tle with God in prayer. Not that he will change 
 one of his laws an iota in consequence of your 
 petition, but because prayer is the calisthenics of 
 the soul, and through this spiritual exercise you are 
 spiritually strengthened to act for yourself. God 
 helps those only who help themselves. 
 
 Turning again to the narrative, we read: "And 
 Jesus was left alone, and the woman, where she was, 
 in the midst." What a picture is here ! The antag- 
 onistic forces of good and evil, the two poles of 
 purity and corruption, have met. Here is the cul- 
 prit, pale, trembling conscience-stricken, weighed 
 down by a sense of guilt made doubly hideous 
 through contact with that pure presence. There is 
 the Judge, gentle, loving, merciful ; the benignity of 
 his countenance transfiguring all about him, calm- 
 ing, quieting, and comforting even that poor Magda- 
 len. It is the crisis of a life. A human soul trem- 
 bles in the balance. One word may exalt it to 
 heaven, one word may debase it to hell. He looks 
 up, he turns toward her, and gently questions her : 
 " Woman, where are those thine accusers .' hath 
 no man condemned thee .■• " " No man. Lord," she 
 answers. 
 
 Like the slumberous roll of funeral drums, burying 
 the dead sin out of sight forever ; like the rapturous 
 
92 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 swell of heavenly anthems, welcoming the redeemed 
 one into glory, the gracious message of God's mercy 
 comes through the sweet lips of that gentle messen- 
 ger, " Neither do I condemn thee : go, and sin no 
 more." 
 
LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 " If the prophet had bid thee do some great thing, wouldest thou 
 not have done it ? how much rather then, when he saith to thee, 
 Wash, and be clean? " — II. Kings v., 13. 
 
 Like Naaman the Syrian, we are all apt to think 
 more highly of great deeds than of the small things 
 of life; yet this is a life of little moments and of 
 small events. I remember once reading the story 
 of two boys, to each of whom, on the evening pre- 
 ceding a holiday, their father presented a gold 
 dollar. To the one, being of an imaginative turn of 
 mind, here was wealth inexhaustible ; and he spent a 
 sleepless night planning its expenditure. But when 
 day dawned, and he found that neither horses, car- 
 riages, nor brown stone mansions could be procured 
 therewith, he gradually laid out the whole in sweet- 
 meats, and soon made himself ill by a surfeit. The 
 other, of a more practical turn, by skilful trading in 
 such small wares as his limited capital would pur- 
 chase, laid the foundation of a handsome fortune. 
 
 And wherein does this experience of a child 
 differ from the experience of a mature life.' The 
 difference is, I think, but very slight. The experi- 
 ences are fairly parallel. -For, to the youth, life is 
 an exhaustless treasure. Even a year is wealth 
 
94 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 untold. Days, hours, and minutes are small change 
 of little value, to be scattered broadcast, without 
 reducing the principal. 
 
 " When first youth counts the glittering links 
 That Time around us binds so fast, 
 
 Pleased with the task, he little thinks 
 How hard that chain will press at last. 
 
 When first our scanty years are told, 
 
 It seems like pastime to grow old." 
 
 But, having squandered the first quarter of our 
 life's gold dollar in sweetmeats, how quickly the 
 second flies ! Before we realize it, we have reached 
 the meridian, and are on the decline. As our store 
 of years grows less, the sand seems to run faster 
 from the glass. Time, whom we took to be a tor- 
 toise, proves himself a race-horse. We have been 
 wont to urge him with goads, now we would fain 
 delay him with drags. But all is useless : he is on 
 the home stretch ; he has the bit in his teeth, and 
 we are whirled onward with lightning rapidity toward 
 the goal. But, though we cannot stay his course, we 
 may yet, in a measure, direct it ; and well is it for 
 us if, unblinded by the dust of the track, we have 
 kept ever in view that bright star of hope which 
 marks the outlet. 
 
 Youth is always self-complacent. Who ever knew 
 a boy to doubt his capacity for success > Manhood, 
 through familiarity with self, grows self-critical and 
 self-distrustful. He is conscious of good resolu- 
 tions, of noble impulses ; but he is doubly conscious 
 of inadequate powers of execution. 
 
LITTLE THINGS 95 
 
 " At thirty, man suspects himself a fool ; 
 Knows it at forty, and reforms his plans ; 
 At fifty, chides his infamous delay, 
 Resolves, and re-resolves ; then dies the same.'' 
 
 Yet, with all its baseness, all its littleness, all 
 its vanity, life is neither wholly ignoble nor wholly 
 vain. It is great, it is grand, it is noble; and the 
 lives of men and women in every portion of our 
 world are daily proving its nobility. Of this I am 
 persuaded, — that a grand moral purpose pervades 
 nature, and has its highest manifestation in the life 
 of man. This moral purpose, this uplifting power, 
 we say, is the spiritual manifestation of God. He is 
 the all-pervading, the all-enfolding. He lives in us, 
 and we in him. He is the infinite circle that em- 
 braces man and the worm. He is the infinite life 
 that penetrates both. As Pope expresses it, — 
 
 " AH are but parts of one stupendous whole. 
 Whose body Nature is, and God the soul." 
 
 But this consciousness of a great moral impulse, 
 pervading and uplifting us in common with all nature, 
 fluctuates with our moods. It is as a spark of fire, 
 now fanned into a ruddy glow of generous flame, 
 now dwindling and dying out for want of proper 
 nourishment. To-day, our faith is bright, we have 
 trust in God and hope for the future, and all is well. 
 To-morrow, all looks dark, and we are on the borders 
 of despair. Why is this ? If we trust in God to- 
 day, why cannot we trust him alway .? If, to-day, our 
 hope of immortality is fervent, why should it be dull 
 
gS PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 to-morrow ? Why is it that our minds fluctuate be- 
 tween a spiritual zenith and nadir ? Why is it that 
 sometimes life seems so bright and joyous, fringed 
 with a golden hope ; at others, a pall covers the land- 
 scape ? 
 
 Such morbid and gloomy conditions of mind as 
 the latter are, I think, usually traceable to one of 
 two causes, — physical ailment or moral defection. 
 The natural attitude of the healthy man or woman 
 is contentment here, hope for the hereafter. But 
 physical derangement produces gloom, and gloom 
 breeds despair. So moral derangement has a like 
 effect. When the evil within us gains the upper 
 hand, we lose faith in good and in God. That 
 rapture of aspiration which scales the bastions of 
 heaven, and communes with things divine, must be 
 born of a pure life. I remember a monk of St. 
 Bernard, whose face, during devotion, seemed trans- 
 figured, as the face of one who sees a vision. And 
 I firmly believe that, by constantly treading under 
 foot the base, and constantly striving after the ideal, 
 even in this life it is given unto some to see faint 
 glimmerings of the morrow's dawn. I believe that 
 such a one was Jesus. By constantly striving after 
 things divine, he learned to walk with God even 
 while on earth ; and we might learn to do likewise, 
 if we would. 
 
 Yet, for the vast mass of humanity, no such glim- 
 merings come ; for we have not faith, we cannot see 
 beyond our horizon. But to-day is with us, bright 
 and joyous, to use to the best advantage; and we 
 
LITTLE THINGS 97 
 
 have the grand hope of to-morrow to cheer to-day's 
 decline. Let us thank God for that hope ; but, be- 
 cause of it, let us not undervalue the life that now 
 is. There has been too much of this in the past, 
 but a better sentiment is prevailing. When we decry 
 life as worthless, and say we are ready and willing 
 to go at any moment, we make a grave mistake, and 
 utter a falsehood which no one believes. We go 
 because we are obliged to go, not because we want 
 to ; and, were it otherwise, we should be false to the 
 strongest instinct of our human nature and of all 
 sentient life, — the desire to live. 
 
 " 'Tis life of which our nerves are scant, 
 O life, not death for which we pant ; 
 More life, and fuller, that I want." 
 
 And it is well that it is so. Like cattle loose in a 
 field, could we see the contents of the next en- 
 closure, and were we under no form of restraint, 
 might we not be constantly tempted to break in, 
 and thus subvert law .' Under present conditions, 
 we see only the field we frequent; and, while the 
 pasture may be poor and the water scarce, we will 
 do well to make the best of it, and be thankful, 
 hoping always for something better in the future; 
 for hope is our privilege. Hope is the guiding star 
 of human destiny. Hope has made our race what 
 it is to-day, and we follow hope on our upward course. 
 Our great concern at present is with this life, 
 not with the next. To-morrow is not ours until it 
 comes, but to-day is ours in hand. Let us live this 
 
98 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 life well, and the next will take care of itself. The 
 vital question now needing an answer is, How shall 
 I live this life up to its highest possibilities ? How 
 shall I subdue sin, crucify my lower nature, and 
 increase in holiness and purity ? How shall I help 
 my fellow-man, and make the sum of human misery 
 less ? These questions are of far more importance 
 than all our idle gossip concerning heaven : Where 
 is it ? What is it like ? What shall we do there ? 
 How shall we be dressed ? Such questions are the 
 merest vanity of speculation. We cannot know, for 
 it is hid from us, doubtless for a wise purpose : even 
 as earthly parents refuse to answer the multitudinous 
 questions of their children, and have good reason 
 for their silence. But, despite that silence, the star 
 of a universal hope broods above the portal of 
 death, and assures us of a life beyond. It assures 
 us that " eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither 
 have entered into the heart of man, the things 
 which God hath prepared for them that love him." 
 Shall we waste this life in querulous complainings 
 because the beyond lies wrapped in shadow ? Surely 
 not. Rather let us, with thankful hearts, in the 
 light of that glorious hope, strive to live this life 
 well. The problem which life daily and hourly 
 offers to each one of us is this. How shall I live the 
 present moment up to its highest and noblest possi- 
 bilities .' 
 
 The present moment is all we have ; and, if we 
 constantly expend this nobly, our whole life will be 
 noble. What constitutes a noble life .■' Is it the 
 
LITTLE THINGS 
 
 99 
 
 doing of great deeds ? I think not. Rather is it in 
 doing the humble duties of life, which, moment by 
 moment, hour by hour, day by day, present them- 
 selves. Great things are not required of us. The 
 servant in the kitchen may live life quite as truly, 
 quite as nobly, as the mistress in the parlor. 
 
 Length of life is not the true measure of life : — 
 
 " We should count time by heart-throbs, 
 Not by years." 
 
 He who falls early may yet have lived a long life. 
 For an example of this, .consider the life of Jesus. 
 He died at about thirty -five, or at most forty, and 
 his public career did not probably exceed a year and 
 a half ; yet how great has been his influence ! But, 
 as I read the record, that influence was not attained 
 through the doing of great deeds or mighty works. 
 He led no armies to victory. He was neither king 
 nor statesman. In a little country district, among 
 country people, he taught practical godliness by pre- 
 cept, but still more by practice. He performed the 
 little duties of a seemingly limited destiny well, and 
 trusted God for the rest. His last cry was a wail 
 of despair, wrung from human weakness; and he 
 died in ignorance of what he had really accom- 
 plished. So must we work, so must we die, — in 
 ignorance of our life's result ; " but God giveth the 
 increase." 
 
 This, then, is the lesson taught by our text, — to 
 use the present moment wisely; to do the little 
 things of life well ; to do our duty in that station of 
 
lOO PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 life wherein we find ourselves, and trust God for the 
 rest. There is one sure panacea for despair, and 
 that is duty. No human being ever despaired while 
 doing his whole duty. While we grieve for the 
 friends who have fallen, let us not forget to close 
 the ranks. They have left us a noble example : let 
 us not forget to profit thereby. Their souls are with 
 God, but their work remains with us. And that 
 work is not some great thing, but the little duties of 
 life, which fill the little moments of life's little day. 
 
PRAYER. 
 
 " If thou prepare thine heart, and stretch out thine hands toward 
 him." — Job xi., 13. 
 
 A LADY asked me recently : " Why should I pray ? 
 Shall I go out at noonday and ask the sun to 
 shine ? " 
 
 I told her: "No. If that is your understanding 
 of the spirit of prayer, refrain. By asking God for 
 temporal blessings which you already have, you 
 commit an act of folly. By asking God for tem- 
 poral blessings which you have not, you waste your 
 breath. The experience of the ages proves that 
 special providence is a myth. I defy the world to 
 show me, in the whole range of history, a single well- 
 authenticated case of temporal advantage gained by 
 prayer. If you are sick only in imagination, a relig- 
 ious quack may work upon your imagination and 
 pronounce you well. But not all the prayers of all 
 the faithful could set a broken limb or restore a 
 lost finger. The laws of nature are the laws of 
 God, and nature is ever consistent. She works by 
 means." 
 
 But is mendicancy prayer .' Is the true attitude 
 of prayer that of a beggar, with extended palm, seek- 
 ing by importunity and cajolery to secure an alms .' 
 
I02 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 I think not. Was this what Jesus meant when he 
 said, " All things, whatsoever ye shall ask in prayer, 
 believing, ye shall receive " ? I do not believe that 
 he so meant. Did he not, rather, exhibit his true 
 meaning when he said to his disciples : " And when 
 ye pray, ye shall not be as the hypocrites : for they 
 love to stand and pray in the synagogues and in 
 the corners of the streets, that they may be seen of 
 men. Verily I say unto you, they have received 
 their reward. But thou, when thou prayest, enter 
 into thine inner chamber, and having shut thy door, 
 pray to thy Father which is in secret, and thy 
 Father which seeth in secret shall recompense thee." 
 But, if God does not grant our prayers, how shall 
 we attain to the promised recompense .' 
 
 In order to answer this question satisfactorily, we 
 must first decide, — what is prayer ? 
 
 I have already said that prayer is not the asking 
 for temporal blessings. Prayer, in my understand- 
 ing, is not so much the asking for anything as it is 
 communion with God. It is the aspiration of man 
 toward the Divine. It is the reaching out, feeling 
 for, and taking hold of God's hand in the darkness. 
 It is the clinging of a weak nature to a stronger, as 
 the ivy clings to the oak. It is the feeling of de- 
 pendence in its best sense, — the dependence of love : 
 the dependence of a child on its father, of a wife on 
 her husband. It is self-surrender without loss of 
 individuality. It is marriage spiritualized, — a spirit- 
 ual union without merger. It is the conception of 
 the absolute harmony to which a discordant note is 
 
PRAYER 103 
 
 attuned. It is the bringing into accord a part with 
 the whole. The key-note of all prayer is contained 
 in these words, — " Thy will be done." This is my 
 understanding of the spirit of prayer. This is prayer. 
 
 Does this view tend to weaken our faith in the 
 paternal providence of God .' It does not. Rather, 
 it tends to strengthen it. So infinite is his love, so 
 admirably adjusted his law, that the humblest and 
 the highest in the vast scale of being are equally 
 provided for. We are no longer waifs drifting down 
 the stream of Time, the sport of wanton winds and 
 chance waves, our salvation or condemnation de- 
 pending on the power of our lungs to reach the 
 divine ear, the persuasive quality of our eloquence 
 to move the divine heart. We are not such, I say. 
 But rather are we ships, stanch and true, fashioned 
 by the hand of the Great Builder, stored and fur- 
 nished by his careful love, and guided by his hand. 
 So long as we respond to the helm, all is well. 'Tis 
 only when rebellious or heedless that we are caught 
 by the whirling eddies, that the rude rocks tear us 
 with their teeth. 
 
 It follows, therefore, that prayer does not neces- 
 sarily imply speech. It is related of a well-known 
 authoress, a woman of intensely religious feeling, 
 that she never prayed in words. When the spirit 
 of prayer came upon her, she wandered forth into 
 the woods, and communed with the birds and flow- 
 ers ; or, at night, she stood with uncovered head 
 beneath the majestic dome of heaven, and marked 
 a myriad worlds careering throughout infinite space, 
 
I04 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 each in his appointed orbit, and listened with ear 
 attuned to catch the music of the spheres, to hearken 
 to that still, small voice which whispers the message 
 of divine love unto the human soul, and says to the 
 waves of passion, " Peace, be still ! " Who shall say 
 that her prayers without words were not as eloquent 
 as those that fell from the honeyed lips of an Am- 
 brose? For there is an eloquence in silence to 
 which all sound is a mockery. Do not the eyes of 
 love rehearse their message, though lips be sealed ? 
 What is more eloquent than a hand-clasp ? Does not 
 the simple presence of a loved one exert a charm, 
 an influence on our consciousness ? Even with 
 the lost to earth we hold communion in memory ; 
 and our friend, though dead, yet speaketh unto us, 
 and whispers, " All is well ! " So, to my mind, the 
 truest, the most eloquent prayer not always finds 
 expression in words. It is as the fragrance of the 
 flowers, — unseen, unheard, floating upward into and 
 pervading space. So the silent prayer, wafted up- 
 ward from the soul, meets and mingles with the 
 eternal silences of God. 
 
 I care not what his religious belief or unbelief, — 
 every man who has penetrated beneath the surface 
 of life must admit the reality of prayer and the in- 
 fluence of divine communion upon the human soul. 
 If this be not so, how shall we explain the wondrous 
 mystery of forgiveness ? Do you deny the reality 
 of forgiveness .' Then I ask. Were you never self- 
 convicted of sin ? Has conscience never held up 
 the mirror to nature, and revealed your boasted robe 
 
PRAYER 105 
 
 of purity as vile and filthy rags ? If this chapter of 
 your experience is yet unread, I envy not your 
 condition. 
 
 " I envy not the beast that takes 
 
 His license in the fields of Time ; 
 
 Unfettered by the sense of crime, 
 
 In whom a conscience never wakes.'' 
 
 But if I speak to one who has had this experi- 
 ence; who, made conscious of sin and unworthiness, 
 and weighed upon by a sense of guilt, in the secrecy 
 of his chamber has wrestled with God, even as 
 Jacob wrestled with the angel; who, like the publi- 
 can, scarce daring to lift up his eyes to heaven, 
 smote upon his breast, saying, " God, be merciful to 
 me a sinner," — if there be such a one here, I ask 
 him, as Jacob attained the blessing he strove for, as 
 the publican was justified, as the burden of Pilgrim 
 fell from his shoulders as he stood before the cross, 
 Did you not attain to the sense of sins forgiven ? 
 We know not how the message comes. No sound 
 breaks the silence, no signal greets the sight ; yet 
 the message comes, " Go in peace : thy sins are for- 
 given thee." Yes, prayer is real and forgiveness is 
 real ; yet both are intangible. The one is an aspira- 
 tion, the other an answering thought. 
 
 I remember reading of a Catholic who, at confes- 
 sion, admitted that he had stolen a quantity of hay, 
 and desired absolution for the theft ; but requested 
 that this might cover also two remaining loads, which 
 he was going to bring that evening. 
 
I06 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 Many persons say their prayers to God very much 
 in the spirit that this man made his confession to 
 the priest. They approach God with their lips, but 
 their hearts are far from him. They go through a 
 form of words, and ask to be delivered from evil, 
 while in thought they are planning some new sin. 
 They profess to believe in an omniscient and om- 
 nipotent power ; but they act as though their divinity 
 was a blind and helpless idol, to be duped and made 
 a fool of at will. Such are to be found in every 
 denomination of religious faith; yet they are prac- 
 tical atheists. Their prayers are wind. If I ask 
 God to deliver me from evil, then straightway walk 
 into temptation, that prayer will not be answered ; 
 for I have proved that I did not mean it, and it was 
 not a prayer. God helps those only who help them- 
 selves. " If I regard iniquity in my heart, the Lord 
 will not hear me." 
 
 We approach most nearly to God in our contem- 
 plation of nature. Bryant, while yet a boy, realized 
 this, and wrote " Thanatopsis" : — 
 
 " To him who in the love of Nature holds 
 Communion with her visible forms, she speaks 
 A various language. For his gayer hours 
 She hath a voice of gladness, and a smile, 
 And eloquence of beauty ; and she glides 
 Into his darker musings with a mild 
 And healing sympathy, that steals away 
 Their sharpness ere he is aware.'' 
 
 And an English poet has given us this beautiful 
 picture from nature : — 
 
PRAYER 107 
 
 " Your voiceless lips, O flowers, are living preachers. 
 Each cup a pulpit, every leaf a book, 
 Supplying to my fancy numerous teachers 
 From loneliest nook. 
 
 " 'Neath cloistered boughs, each floral bell that swingeth, 
 And tolls its perfume on the passing air. 
 Makes Sabbath in the fields, and ever ringeth 
 A call to prayer. 
 
 " Not to the domes where crumbling arch and column 
 Attest the feebleness of mortal hand, 
 But to that fane most catholic and solemn 
 Which God hath planned ; 
 
 " To that cathedral, boundless as our wonder. 
 Whose quenchless lamps the sun and moon supply ; 
 Its choir, the winds and waves ; its organ, thunder ; 
 Its dome, the sky, — 
 
 " There, amid solitude and shade, I wander 
 Through the green aisles, and, stretched upon the sod. 
 Awed by the silence, reverently ponder 
 The ways of God." 
 
 I turn now to the reverse side of my subject, — 
 Pharisaic prayer, the prayer of those whom Jesus 
 condemned, who " love to stand and pray in the 
 synagogues and in the corners of the streets, that 
 they may be seen of men." And he says of such, 
 "Verily I say unto you, they have received their 
 reward." What reward have they received ? The 
 empty reward of being seen of men, of being cred- 
 
I08 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 ited with a piety to which they have no just claim. 
 This is their reward, and all the reward they 
 get ; for God answers only the prayer of the 
 heart, and no amount of empty form may win the 
 divine blessing. "Be not deceived; God is not 
 mocked : for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall 
 he also reap." 
 
 Far be it from me to challenge any man's sincer- 
 ity, or to judge any. To his own Master he must 
 stand or fall ; and how shall I hope for charity, if I 
 exercise it not ? Yet there are certain prayers not 
 unusual in the present day, which to my mind come 
 within the condemnation of Jesus ; and, as illustra- 
 tions of this whole class of prayers, I would enumer- 
 ate three only : — 
 
 First, where a minister, or other leader of devo- 
 tion, public or private, gives way to a common 
 temptation of the pulpit, and formulates an elaborate 
 petition, not in the fervent spirit of devout com- 
 munion with God, or a desire to lift the souls of his 
 hearers to higher planes of thought, but merely for 
 literary effect, and that members of the congrega- 
 tion may say one to the other, "What a beautiful 
 prayer that was: how eloquent, how touching!" 
 He has received his reward in the applause of men ; 
 but I believe that, before God, he has failed utterly. 
 Prayer is a spontaneous outpouring of the soul to 
 God ; and, when it ceases to be that, I care not how 
 eloquent the forced utterance, how nicely turned 
 the sentences, it is no longer prayer. So much 
 have I been impressed with this thought while sit- 
 
PRAYER 
 
 109 
 
 ting under some long and wordy petitions, that I 
 have frequently questioned whether we might not 
 with advantage substitute the Quaker method of 
 silent prayer in Unitarian worship. 
 
 Second, it is the custom of some persons to in- 
 dulge in stated periods of private devotion, night 
 and morning, on retiring and on rising. The custom 
 is an old and honored one ; and we, many of us, have 
 pleasant memories of childhood's simple prayers 
 learned at the mother's knee. But others, again, do 
 not care to follow this custom, believing perhaps 
 that seasons of prayer should not be forced; that 
 only when the inspiration of prayer is felt should 
 that communion with the Divine be sought ; that 
 the whole life should be one continued prayer of 
 faith and psalm of praise. Here are two classes of 
 people, equally religious, equally honest, and in my 
 opinion equally right, since each does what seems to 
 him the best. 
 
 Now let us suppose that the man who does not 
 believe in stated periods of prayer has occasion to 
 visit the man who does. When, on retiring for the 
 night, his host kneels down to say his customary 
 prayer, shall the guest do likewise? You will say 
 that, in courtesy, he is bound to do so ; and yet, if 
 he does it from that motive only, he but prays to 
 be seen of men. To my mind, prayer is too sacred 
 a thing to be thus trifled with. I lay down no rule 
 for such a case, unless it be this, and this I empha- 
 size : Be true to yourself and your own convictions, 
 and follow the dictates of conscience, however you 
 
no PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 may appear to others. If you do this, you cannot 
 make a mistake; 
 
 Third, the practice of asking a blessing at meals 
 is how almost entirely obsolete in Unitarian fami- 
 lies. Yet, if the minister comes, he is almost always 
 asked to say grace. We frequently, therefore, wit- 
 ness this anomaly : A minister who does not say 
 grace at his own table is requested to say grace at 
 the table of a friend who does not say grace when 
 the minister is not present. The minister knows 
 that no blessing would be asked if he were not there, 
 and that the form is gone through with simply and 
 purely as a compliment to him. His host probably 
 knows that the minister eats his meals daily at his 
 own house without asking a formal blessing, yet, 
 because it is the fashion to do so, requests his guest 
 to say grace. Now, if this is not the daily custom 
 of the household, why should an exception be made 
 when a minister is at the table ? If it is the daily 
 custom of the household, every minister will gladly 
 conform thereto. But let me not be understood as 
 decrying the custom of asking a blessing before 
 eating, when that is the daily custom of the house- 
 hold, and where the true and reverent spirit of 
 prayer is the inciting cause thereto. Under such 
 circumstances, I call the custom a good one. But, 
 under the circumstances I first mentioned, both host 
 and guest are placed in the false position of those 
 who pray to be seen of men. And let me say in 
 passing that, in my opinion, our best testimony of 
 thankfulness to God is in receiving and enjoying in 
 
PRAYER III 
 
 a reasonable manner the good gifts which he has 
 provided. No lengthy grace will atone for querulous 
 discontent at what is provided. Still, I would again 
 emphasize that my objection is only to empty forms 
 to be seen of men, not to prayer. 
 
 But, turning from this ungrateful branch of my 
 subject, I would have you consider the efJHcacy of 
 prayer in hours of trial. Sorrow is the furnace, not 
 of God's wrath, but of God's refining. "We are 
 tried as silver is tried." We are melted by the 
 flames, and beaten by the hammers ; and, not know- 
 ing the intention of the Divine Workman, our faith 
 too often fails. But, when the fire is the hottest, 
 and the strokes fall heaviest, if we will but stretch 
 out our hands unto God, we shall surely find him in 
 the darkness. And, having found him, let us, as 
 Jacob did, strive with him for the blessing ; and this 
 also will he grant to us. 
 
 The face of God is hid from us, and not in answer 
 to prayer will his methods be disclosed ; but the 
 exercise of true and heartfelt prayer will never fail 
 of a fitting recompense. Though the load may not 
 be removed, the back will be strengthened to bear 
 it. The infinite circle is so great that the limited 
 portion we can dimly comprehend appears to our 
 imperfect vision as a straight line. Yet is it none 
 the less a circle, perfect and harmonious ; and we 
 rest in that divine harmony. The waves of our 
 little lives break upon the surface, and we cry out 
 in terror, " Lord, save ! we perish ! " But the fath- 
 omless deeps of God rest undisturbed, and the 
 
112 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 serenity of an infinite peace is our security. Not 
 to vex those infinite deeps to sympathy with our 
 surface agitation is the office of prayer, but rather 
 to calm our surface waves into sympathy with the 
 great deeps ; so shall we receive our recompense 
 in that peace which passeth understanding. 
 
THE ETHICS OF JESUS. 
 
 " As ye would that men should do to you, do ye also to them 
 likewise." — Luke vi., 31. 
 
 The value of any individual life must be estimated 
 by its influence upon the world's life. Has it ad- 
 vanced or retarded the mental, moral, and spiritual 
 growth of the race .' To this test must be brought 
 the life of a Guiteau or a Garfield, of a Judas or 
 a Jesus. To this test posterity will bring your life 
 ajid mine, and by this we shall stand or fall. 
 
 Judged by this standard, the life of Jesus was 
 fruitful beyond measure ; for its impulse was the 
 highest, its circle of influence the widest. In every 
 line of human thought and action there must be 
 a greatest, — a Napoleon in war, a Shakspere in 
 letters, an Ambrose in eloquence, a Jesus in relig- 
 ion. And, having found that representative mind 
 in any line, surely we shall be well repaid to study 
 his methods and results. Thus, I invite you to a 
 consideration of the Ethics of Jesus, — the system 
 of morality by him taught for the guidance of men. 
 But I would have you come to this investigation in 
 no spirit of blind acceptance. Jesus was a man like 
 one of us ; and, as such, his teachings are as open 
 to criticism as are those of any other man. Some 
 
114 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 of Shakspere's passages we print in letters of gold, 
 while others we ignore as unworthy. We admire 
 the military genius of Napoleon, but we condemn 
 his unscrupulous ambition. So the honest student 
 finds much to admire and follow, but some things 
 also to dissent from, in the teachings of Jesus ; much 
 that is eminently sound, but part that is wholly 
 impracticable. He finds, in fact, a human life of 
 noble impulse fettered by human limitation ; a 
 Titanic soul bound to the Caucasus of mortality, 
 preyed upon by the vultures of passion, and crying 
 aloud through the darkness, now in despair and now 
 in hope. 
 
 Only in this view, the human view of the life of 
 Jesus, can that life be understood. Only in this 
 view can his teachings be understood, or be made, 
 applicable to our lives. Directly we assert his infal- 
 libility, we make worthless his example to fallible 
 men ; but let us study him in the same spirit as we 
 study other teachers, and his life shall yield us the 
 richest harvest of the ages. 
 
 First, as to his central idea, the pivotal point 
 upon which his system turned : this we find in 
 his conception of the unity of God and the divine 
 paternity. So rich and full was his spiritual nature 
 that he unhesitatingly affirmed the divine kinship, 
 saying to his disciples, " Ye are sons of God," and 
 asserting, " I and my Father are one." Having thus, 
 as it were, claimed an equality with the Divine for 
 the sons of men, how high, how inspiring, how 
 grand, how noble, was the standard of conduct he 
 
THE ETHICS OF JESUS IIS 
 
 set for them : " Be ye therefore perfect, even as your 
 Father which is in heaven is perfect." The arrow 
 aimed at the sun will go further than that .directed at 
 a lower mark ; and nothing short of divine perfection 
 could satisfy the spiritual ambition of this the Elder 
 Brother of our race. The mark he set was the 
 highest possible in any age ; for the standard of the 
 divine perfection is necessarily relative to the stand- 
 ard of human perfection, the idea of God growing 
 with the idea of man. How shall the same concep- 
 tion be expected from a savage and an Emerson ? 
 We do not expect it. Therefore, the spirit of Jesus' 
 words is simply this : " Be ye perfect according to 
 your highest ideal of the perfection of God." 
 
 He did not expect that all or any would attain to 
 .this. He emphatically denied his own perfection : 
 " Why callest thou me good ? there is none good 
 but one, that is God." And this must ever be an 
 answer to those who claim that he was without sin. 
 It is evident that he felt himself a sinner. Judged 
 by his own standard, he was necessarily a sinner. 
 It is admitted on all hands that he was tempted like 
 as we are. But he told his disciples that he who 
 looketh with the thought of sin hath committed 
 the sin already in his heart ; that the harboring of 
 a wrong thought was the sin. The saying is tanta- 
 mount to the Persian proverb, " The contemplation 
 of vice is a vice." But in the wrong thought lies 
 the temptation, for there can be none without it. 
 Therefore, if Jesus was tempted, — and all admit that 
 he was, — he must have had wrong thoughts, and thus. 
 
II 6 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 judged by his own standard, was a sinner ; for into a 
 mind of perfect holiness such thoughts would not 
 enter. We may assume, therefore, that he resisted 
 temptation, and, in the main, triumphed over sin ; but 
 not that he was wholly sinless. The record shows 
 him to have been pre-eminently a good man, — per- 
 haps the best whose history has been written, — yet 
 subject to human weakness and imperfection. I 
 have said that there must always be a best ; and yet 
 it were hard to say wherein many other lives of 
 history have fallen short of the character of Jesus. 
 His life has this tremendous advantage over all 
 others, — that only a year, or at most a year and a 
 half of it, is exposed to our inspection ; whereas, if 
 we seek to compare another with him, we pick out 
 all the follies of youth, and cast them into the scale. 
 Thus, Augustine would compare favorably with Jesus 
 throughout the latter half of his life, but the first 
 half is stained with excesses. We know nothing of 
 the first thirty years of Jesus' life; and, when we 
 cast our thought back to his time, and find him a 
 simple country preacher, teaching practical morality 
 to little groups of ragged peasants by the wayside 
 (even as Emerson has taught in our own time), does 
 it seem absolutely impossible that future generations 
 might worship Emerson as a god, even as some now 
 worship Jesus .■' But those who knew Emerson inti- 
 mately, while recognizing the beauty of his charac- 
 ter, recognized also that he was but a weak and 
 erring man; that, while at times he was fairly 
 inspired with the spirit of God, and spoke and 
 
THE ETHICS OF JESUS II7 
 
 wrote divine truth, at others he was in bondage to 
 the flesh, and committed sin and spoke error, and 
 subsequently recognized them as such. It is said 
 that in his latter years he listened discontentedly to 
 quotations from his writings, and seemed dissatisfied 
 with much that he had written. Suppose that Jesus 
 had been suffered to grow old, would he, think .you, 
 in the maturity of age, have reaffirmed all the utter- 
 ances of his youth .' For my own part, I do not 
 believe that he would. I do not believe that, if 
 Jesus lived to-day, he would teach exactly as he 
 taught then. The world has moved since his time. 
 The thought of man has advanced. We see many 
 things more clearly than he did; and, where our 
 thought has progressed beyond his, we should not 
 be limited by his thought. We should follow in his 
 path toward the higher life, but, where we find he 
 has stepped aside, we are not bound to walk in his 
 tracks. It is the inspired thought and action of any 
 leader that we should emulate, not his mistakes. 
 Inspiration is of God, and only God is infallible. 
 Who among those who contend for the infallibility 
 of Jesus obey his example and injunction of perpet- 
 ual poverty, or call it right to curse a barren tree, 
 or to set the laws of the land at defiance ? Do they 
 not rather dwell on the Beatitudes, which breathe the 
 eternal verities of God ? 
 
 My argument therefore is that, in studying the 
 teachings of Jesus, or those ascribed to him, we 
 must do so, not servilely, but in the light of modern 
 revelation. For there is a perpetual revelation, of 
 
Il8 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 which we are the latest recipients. We are heirs of 
 all that Jesus was heir to, and of much besides. We 
 may not have come up to his perfection of spiritual 
 growth, but in knowledge of material things we 
 have certainly surpassed him. What we need now 
 is to apply his spirituality to our increased knowl- 
 edge of facts ; to follow his high purpose in the 
 light of modern science; not to chain ourselves to 
 the letter, as slaves, but to follow the spirit, as free 
 men. If we followed the letter, each one must sell 
 all his possessions, and scatter the proceeds on the 
 street, to be scrambled for by a vagrant crowd, who 
 would spend the wealth thus obtained in rioting and 
 drunkenness, while the former owners wandered 
 about the country as pious mendicants. Such, I say, 
 is the letter of Jesus' teaching, and perhaps to his 
 day and to his audiences it was eminently appli- 
 cable ; but it is not so to ours. To-day, philanthropy 
 gives wisely and sparingly, and wealth is recognized 
 as a blessing to be sought rather than as a curse to 
 be avoided. It is no longer true that riches bar the 
 path to heaven ; that " it is easier for a camel to go 
 through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to 
 enter into the kingdom." On the contrary, wealth is 
 a great good, when rightly used. 
 
 But there are some truths that are never out- 
 grown. These are the eternal verities of God. We 
 know them instinctively as far as we can see them. 
 Jesus did not create them : he simply recoined the 
 gold of the centuries, and passed it on. The gold 
 came from a higher source: it was co-eternal with 
 
THE ETHICS OF JESUS 1 19 
 
 God, and was the gift of God to men. Such are the 
 Beatitudes contained in the so-called Sermon on the 
 Mount, which is not a sermon, but simply a collection 
 of disjointed, epigrammatic utterances alleged to have 
 fallen at different times from the lips of Jesus, and to 
 have been cast into this shape for preservation. But 
 the question is not as to their form of utterance, not 
 even as to their authorship; but, Are they true.' 
 Are they adapted to human needs? Are they fit 
 rules to live and die by ? A diamond is none the 
 less a diamond, though found in the gutter; a bit of 
 glass is none the more valuable, though placed in a 
 king's coronet. So the sayings of Judas or Jesus, 
 of Guiteau or Garfield, of IngersoU or Emerson, live 
 or die by inherent merit or demerit, not because of 
 their authorship. We may love the man, but dissent 
 from his philosophy; we may execrate him, yet 
 treasure his words. Lord Bacon has been called 
 " the meanest of mankind," yet we read his works 
 with reverence. Swift was an unprincipled wretch, 
 false as the archfiend in his daily life ; yet he wrote 
 wisdom which we accept as such. The gold of 
 God passes ever through unclean hands, yet the 
 gold remains pure. The stamp of God's truth is 
 indelible, it can never be effaced. But the converse 
 of this proposition is equally true : the counterfeit 
 is still a counterfeit, though paid by angel hands. 
 
 It is in this spirit, the spirit of rational discrimi- 
 nation, that I would have you study the words of 
 Jesus ; not as an infallible guide, for there is no 
 infallible guide. The nearest we have to it is the 
 
I20 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 voice within, the voice of conscience, the still, small 
 voice of God. This is an inherent instinct, divinely 
 implanted, unerring, if unperverted. This is the 
 true standard of right and wrong to us. The words 
 of Jesus, of Paul, of Emerson, of any great mind 
 imbued with a high moral purpose, are to be received 
 by us with reverence, considered with honesty, tested 
 by conscience, and assimilated or rejected, as con- 
 science allows or disallows. Conscience is the only 
 court of final resort, the only vicegerent of God on 
 earth. 
 
 There is much that is obscure and ambiguous in 
 the system of ethics Jesus taught ; but the prevailing 
 principle is evident, and that is love. His normal 
 condition was one of infinite tenderness and intense 
 humanity, which folded all men to his bosom. Only 
 under the influence of passion did he forget his own 
 precept, — " Love your enemies, bless them that curse 
 you, . . . pray for them which despitefully use you " ; 
 and his failure to always fulfil the thought does not 
 detract from the majesty thereof. Never yet lived 
 a preacher who always practised what he preached ; 
 but pure water cools parched lips, though offered in 
 a broken vessel. Though in human weakness Jesus 
 cursed his enemies, in divine strength he told us to 
 love ours. This was his ideal of love. Let our own 
 shortcomings teach us charity for his. 
 
 He taught absolute non-resistance : "To him that 
 smiteth thee on the one cheek offer also the other ; 
 and from him that taketh away thy cloke withhold 
 not thy coat also." 
 
THE ETHICS OF JESUS 121 
 
 Common sense tells us that this is a false philos- 
 ophy, and wholly impracticable. Following this, 
 there would have been no Revolution, and this vast 
 country must still be a petty appendage to England, 
 ourselves and our children perpetual slaves to hered- 
 itary monarchy. Following this, our Union must 
 have been dismembered in the late Rebellion, and 
 left a helpless prey to lawless violence. Shall we 
 stultify common sense, and say that he did not mean 
 what his words implied .' This has been the hack- 
 neyed argument of the Church for centuries ; but it 
 carries no weight. His meaning is obvious. Let 
 us grant his honesty of purpose, but fairly meet the 
 issue, and, with equal honesty, say boldly, Here he 
 erred in judgment, and his philosophy is false. The 
 instinct of self-preservation is the fundamental law 
 of nature. It thrills all sentient life, and is im- 
 planted by the hand of God. He who transgresses 
 that law in my person does so at his peril. Let 
 Fort Sumter be again fired upon, and our cannon- 
 shell again repay the insult. The doctrine of non- 
 resistance is false in theory and absurd in practice. 
 It would give our cities to the flames and ourselves 
 to chains. It is the very excess of pusillanimity, 
 born of a morbid habit, and as such worthy only of 
 contempt. This is the counterfeit coin which has 
 crept in among the true gold, and none the less is 
 it counterfeit because offered by Jesus' hand. False 
 it is, and false we are if we reject it not ; and 
 doubly false are we if, while rejecting it, we affirm 
 its truth. 
 
122 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 But the fact that one coin is proven counterfeit, 
 or short in weight, does not impeach the rest. It 
 simply puts us on inquiry. It warns us that we 
 must weigh all, judge all. This is the exception 
 that proves the rule. This is the touch of imperfect 
 human nature which proves this man's humanity 
 and keeps his feet on earth. Were it not for such 
 slips of judgment, such imperfections of character, 
 such inconsistencies of behavior, we should never 
 dare to call him brother. But, when we realize that 
 he was fallible as ourselves, was tempted as we are, 
 and sinned and repented as we do, we can clasp 
 hands with him as an equal and friend ; we can walk 
 with him and talk with him as with a brother ; we 
 can profit equally by his successes and mistakes, 
 emulating the one and avoiding the other. 
 
 In some remote portions of Russia, it is said that 
 the inhabitants are so ignorant as to believe that the 
 Czar is a demi-god ; and, as such, they worship him 
 and pay sacrifices to him. But, if they knew the 
 facts as they really are, far from being a demi-god, 
 he is a man like one of them, — eating, drinking, 
 and digesting his food as they do, and subject to 
 all their frailties and imperfections. 
 
 So, if we could be translated through nineteen 
 hundred years into the land of Palestine, we would 
 find Jesus — instead of a demi-god with supernatural 
 powers, infallible in thought and word and act, as 
 imaginative historians have painted him — a simple 
 country preacher, with little learning, and a small 
 following, teaching practical morality to little groups 
 
THE ETHICS OF JESUS 123 
 
 of ragged peasants by the wayside ; not claiming to 
 be anything more than he was, a sinner speaking to 
 sinners ; a man conscious of human weakness and 
 imperfection, painting to other men, also weak and 
 imperfect, his grand ideal of a divine perfection. 
 Preaching to-day, sinning to-morrow, repenting and 
 taking a fresh start, we would each find his life a 
 parallel to our own. And, when we have once 
 realized this, we realize also that the teachings of 
 Jesus are as open to criticism as are those of any 
 modern preacher. They are to be tried by the fire 
 of conscience and weighed in the balance of reason. 
 Only thus may the teachings of any man, ancient or 
 modem, be adopted as the rule of life. 
 
 But, in conclusion, while insisting upon my right 
 and your right to criticise the words of Jesus to the 
 same extent as those of any other, while denying 
 the binding^ force of many sayings ascribed to him, 
 and asserting their ethical falsity, I unhesitatingly 
 affirm that the grand tendency of his teaching is 
 toward the highest and noblest manhood. He has 
 laid the foundation deep and broad : it is for us to 
 erect the edifice. And the corner-stone of his ethi- 
 cal system is the same that Zoroaster, Buddha, and 
 Confucius each laid in the many centuries before 
 him ; cut by each to his own fancy, yet always the 
 same stone ; invented by none, but created by God ; 
 the outgrowth of natural ethics, formulated by 
 experience, and known to us as " The Golden Rule " : 
 " As ye would that men should do to you, do ye also 
 to them likewise." 
 
THE LARGER CONCEPTION OF GOD. 
 
 " Whither shall I go from thy spirit ? or whither shall I flee from 
 thy presence ? " — Psalm cxxxix., 7. 
 
 " He is not far from each one of us : for in him we live, and 
 move, and have our being." — Acts xvii., 28. 
 
 If we see a beautiful painting, or a noble statue, 
 and are much impressed thereby, we naturally ques- 
 tion : " Who is the artist } Who painted this pict- 
 ure ? Who sculptured this marble ? " Or, if we read 
 a graceful poem, or an interesting story, we ask: 
 " Who is the author .-' Who wrote it .' " And so 
 the child, looking forth upon the grand panorama 
 of nature, and inspecting his own marvellous 
 frame; hearkening to the wondrous melody of 
 wind and wave ; poring over the weird legend 
 of creation traced upon the rocks, — questions 
 eagerly, " Mother, who made the world ? " And 
 she answers, "My child, God made it." And then 
 comes the second question, " What did he make it 
 out of > " And she tells him : " He made it out of 
 nothing. He commanded, and the universe sprang 
 into being." Then comes the third question, 
 "Mother, who made God?" She tells him that 
 God was not made, that he always was. This heads 
 off further inquiry in that direction, but the young 
 inquisitor is not yet silenced. He retraces his steps. 
 
THE LARGER CONCEPTION OF GOD 1 25 
 
 and queries again : " How could God make the world 
 out of nothing ? Men make chairs and tables out of 
 trees, and bricks out of clay. You make bread out 
 of flour, which is made from wheat, which grows out 
 of the ground. But how could God possibly make 
 a world by just saying so .' " At this point, the child 
 may be silenced ; but the question not being answered, 
 it will haunt him throughout life. 
 
 Thus it comes that not only children ask these 
 questions, but grown men and women ask them con- 
 tinually. Where does the universe come from ? 
 Where do we come from .' Who or what is God .■' 
 There is no use trying to silence such questions with 
 a wave of the hand. Like Banquo's ghost, they 
 refuse to be laid. They haunt every avenue of 
 thought, and meet us upon every corner. They 
 assail us with doubts and queries in continuous fusi- 
 lade; and high over all, in confident derision, rings 
 the voice of their leader, as he propounds the un- 
 answered riddle of the ages, " Who or what is 
 God ? " 
 
 Every thought is an evolution from some lower 
 form of thought ; for, as the mind expands through 
 experience, it constantly reworks and remodels the 
 mental accretion of past generations. We do not 
 reject the experience of the past : we add to it and 
 improve upon it. Thus, to take a familiar example, 
 the first savage outran his game, and struck it down 
 with a stick held in the hand. His son or grand- 
 son improved on this method by throwing the stick 
 forcibly from a distance. A later generation con- 
 
126 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 ceived the idea of sharpening the stick at one end, 
 and flinging it as a spear. Still later, a union of 
 ideas caused it to occur to some one to bend a sec- 
 ond stick, confine its elasticity by a string of twisted 
 bark, and use this to project the first. Thus the 
 bow and arrow came into use. The next step in the 
 progress of ideas brought the cross-bow, which could 
 be sighted at an object. Then came the discovery 
 of gunpowder, and its application, wherein another 
 union of ideas was necessary. A bamboo from 
 which the pith has been extracted is used by sav- 
 ages as a tube from which to blow arrows. This 
 probably gave rise to the idea of confining the explo- 
 sive gunpowder in a tube or barrel. This tube or 
 barrel was at first made of wood, burned or bored 
 out, and strengthened by rings of metal. This in 
 turn was succeeded by the old-fashioned matchlock, 
 about equally dangerous at both ends. And finally, 
 after many generations, we of to-day have handsome 
 breech-loading rifles, with telescope sights, piercing 
 the bull's eye at a mile range. It is not probable 
 that this weapon has yet nearly arrived at perfec- 
 tion; but, surely, enough progress has been made 
 from the stick of the savage to disclose the mean- 
 ing of evolution in the domain of thought. 
 
 So our idea of God, whatever the individual idea 
 may be, is an evolution from the idea of God in the 
 mind of the first savage. He found himself in a 
 world which he did not understand, and surrounded 
 by powers which he could not comprehend. Hardly 
 superior in intelligence to the wild beasts with which 
 
THE LARGER CONCEPTION OF GOD 12/ 
 
 he daily fought, he yet felt within himself a double 
 nature, and ascribed the same to them. Every 
 visible object, whether heavenly body, rock, plant, 
 tree, or animal, became to him a spiritual entity, 
 benevolent or malignant, enclosed, like himself, in a 
 physical form. If a brier tore his flesh, it was the 
 spitefulness of the indwelling spirit which caused it 
 to do so. If water slaked his thirst, it was through 
 the benevolence of the spirit of the stream. The 
 flowers were mortal maidens transformed, and bear- 
 ing still the beauty and grace which enraptures the 
 soul of man. The zephyrs were the spirits of his 
 departed friends, who came to fan his brow when 
 heated in the chase. The sun was a genial god, 
 benevolently inclined, but who, when angry, could 
 smite with resistless power. The moon was a hunt- 
 ress, and the crescent her bended bow, the stars 
 her hounds. Night by night, in watchfulness, she 
 roamed the solitudes ; and all who died by night were 
 victims to her shafts. 
 
 Such were, and still are, the wild imaginings of 
 primitive peoples ; and, as none can imagine attri- 
 butes outside of their own experience, the pantheon 
 of every nation is an epitome of that nation's world. 
 The Scandinavians at the North, fond of fighting 
 and feasting, worshipped Odin and Thor, whom they 
 pictured as gigantic mail-clad warriors, invincible in 
 battle. In their valhalla, or heaven, the banquet is ever 
 laid, and the guests partake thereof in full harness, 
 while skalds rehearse their mighty deeds wrought in 
 the flesh. Here, severity of climate bred a hardy 
 
128 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 and chaste people ; and their gods and their future 
 life were but reflections of themselves and their 
 lives here. 
 
 Thus, again, on the other hand, the Latin nations, 
 wooed by the seductive influences of a warm climate 
 to lives of voluptuous self-indulgence, worshipped a 
 pantheon of gods whose chief delights were in 
 sensual pleasures. The Roman Jupiter is but a 
 deified libertine. Venus is a wanton, canonized. 
 Bacchus is drunkenness, crowned and worshipped. 
 
 Turning now to the Hebrew nation, we find them 
 clannish, cruel, treacherous, and rapacious. Such 
 being their character, their god is naturally a reflec- 
 tion thereof. The God Jehovah (or Yahweh) por- 
 trayed in the Old Testament is simply a deified Jew 
 of a barbarous age. Is it any wonder that the great 
 mind of Spinoza should rebel against the traditions 
 of his fathers, and refuse to be bound by the Hebrew 
 conception of God? 
 
 Thus have we hurriedly inspected a portion of that 
 long rosary of gods which humanity wears about its 
 neck. And now we come to the latest addition 
 thereto, — the pendant, in the form of a cross, bearing 
 the lifeless figure of a man of gentle aspect. It is 
 the Christ of the Christian, evolved from the Jewish 
 Jehovah. It is, in fact, Jehovah reformed and hu- 
 manized. It is the fiend-god of ancient Israel, who 
 delighted in rapine and bloodshed, who sacked and 
 wasted cities, tortured men, and mutilated women. 
 This, I am told, is He who has taken upon himself 
 the human form, and in that form is loving and 
 
THE LARGER CONCEPTION OF GOD 1 29 
 
 gentle, preaching a gospel of non-resistance, of love 
 to enemies, of mercy to all creatures, of purity of 
 life, and devotion to every form of good. Can these 
 two be one and the same person ? Yes, if good and 
 evil, white and black, purity and corruption, are 
 interchangeable terms ; but not otherwise. The 
 gentle Jesus, I respect and love; the cruel Yahweh, 
 I despise and hate. 
 
 But, respecting and loving the gentle character of 
 Jesus, the lowly carpenter of Galilee, the prophet 
 of love to men, do we not find in him the First Great 
 Cause, the Creator and Sustainer of Worlds ? No, 
 we do not. We find in Jesus the assumed attributes 
 of the Godhead, but not the Godhead itself. 
 
 We are thus brought face to face with the conclu- 
 sion that no god as yet offered to men can be 
 accepted by us. We cannot accept the animism of 
 the savage ; for we have fathomed the natures and 
 made servants of many of those mysterious agencies 
 which he worshipped as gods. Neither can we rest 
 satisfied with the warlike gods of Scandinavia, the 
 lustful deities of Rome, the treacherous Yahweh of 
 Israel, or the mystical Christ of the Christians. 
 Not one of these can we accept as God, the author 
 and sustainer of life, or worship as "our Father." 
 Are we therefore atheists, without faith in God ? 
 This was what his contemporaries called Spinoza; 
 but posterity has named him "the god-intoxicated 
 man." Like him, we are not atheists : we are God- 
 seekers, not God-deniers. 
 
 There are no atheists. The difficulty is that no 
 
130 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 formula of God has yet been propounded which 
 rises to the dignity of the subject. The expanded 
 mind rebels against the limitations of locality and 
 form as applied to the Infinite. Do you ask me if 
 I believe in God ? I answer, Yes and No. If you 
 mean the God usually spoken of in the Bible, lim- 
 ited, localized, and formulated, then No, a thousand 
 times No. But if you mean the all-pervading soul 
 of nature, the wondrous intelligence thrilling and 
 making alive man and worm and tree and flower and 
 rock and grain of sand, then I answer. Yes, I believe 
 and I worship. How can I fail to believe in that of 
 which I myself am a part ? 
 
 This is the God in which I believe, this is the 
 God I worship : not a God outside of, separate and 
 apart from, nature ; but the God indwelling in nature, 
 as absolutely and eternally inherent in nature as is 
 life. I believe that, wherever life is, whether animal, 
 vegetable, or mineral life, there is God. There is 
 no atom of this universal frame without life, there- 
 fore there is no atom without God. Nor can we 
 escape the indwelling God by death, for there is no 
 death. Death is but transformation into new forms 
 of life. " It is but into life we die " ; and, wherever 
 we go, we bear God with us. 
 
 As a drop to the ocean, 
 
 A mote to the whole, 
 So, man, is thy soul 
 
 To the Infinite Soul. 
 
 A mist from that ocean 
 Ascended thy breath ; 
 
THE LARGER CONCEPTION OF GOD I3I 
 
 A drop to that ocean 
 Thou fallest at death. 
 
 Thou fallest, thou hidest 
 
 In wave or in clod ; 
 But in God thou abidest, 
 
 And thou, too, art God. 
 
 Consider, for a moment, the stupendous majesty of 
 this thought, — the absolute identity of all material 
 forms with God. God is all in all. You and I, the 
 dog, the horse, the worm, the fly, the tree, the flower, 
 the grain of sand, all are but modes of expression of 
 one infinite, ever-existent, eternal, unchangeable, all- 
 pervading spirit. In view of such a thought, does 
 not the reflection of the psalmist acquire a new sig- 
 nificance .' — " Whither shall I go from thy spirit ? or 
 whither shall I flee from thy presence ? " 
 
 Mankind have been so engrossed in their search 
 for a God in form, located outside of nature, in some 
 far-away heaven, seated on a throne from whence to 
 direct the universe, that they have as a rule quite 
 overlooked this larger conception of the Divine. 
 Yet such a conception was evidently held by several 
 of the Bible writers. 
 
 Notice it in that glorious one hundred and thirty- 
 ninth psalm, from which our text is taken. Hear it 
 in the words of Paul : " He is not far from each one 
 of us : for in him we live, and move, and have our 
 being." And again he says, "There is one body, 
 and one Spirit, . . . one God and Father of all, who 
 is over all, and through all, and in all." Jesus affirms 
 the same conception of God, when he tells the 
 
132 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 woman of Samaria, "God is a Spirit: and they that 
 worship him must worship in spirit and truth." 
 And John follows up the same line of thought "when 
 he says, " God is love ; and he that abideth in love 
 abideth in God, and God abideth in him." 
 
 This view of God, — that he is a subtle essence 
 pervading all material forms ; that he is the vivify- 
 ing principle of the visible universe ; that he is to 
 the universe what my life is to my body ; that he is 
 really, as Paul expresses it, " over all, and through 
 all, and in all," — this theory, I say, is known as 
 " Pantheism." The word is derived from two Greek 
 words, Pan, all, and Tkeos, God, and means "God 
 in all," or " God is all." Pantheism is the common 
 ground upon which all religions meet. It is the 
 corner-stone of every great religion the world has 
 ever known ; it is the string upon which every 
 system of philosophy is strung, from Zoroaster to 
 Jesus, from Jesus to Emerson. 
 
 In this view of God, how significant become the 
 words of Paul, "He is not far from each one of us." 
 The love-light in your child's eyes is the smile of 
 God. The glow of sunrise and of sunset marks the 
 passage of his feet. He spangles the lawn with 
 webs of gossamer, and strings priceless pearls of 
 glittering dew on every blade of grass. The rose- 
 bush burns with his appearing. Each spot is holy 
 ground, consecrated by the footprints of Deity. 
 
 It follows from this view of God that idolatry is 
 an impossible crime. I remember a poor mother 
 sorrowing for her child, and saying that she feared 
 
THE LARGER CONCEPTION OF GOD 1 33 
 
 she had loved it too well. " For God is a jealous 
 God," she said, " and will not suffer idols to be set 
 up in the heart ; therefore, he has taken my child 
 away." As if any mother could love her child too 
 well ! Such a thought is blasphemy against the 
 purest, holiest emotion that glorifies our human life. 
 In the love of our dear ones, we best prove our love 
 for the Divine Spirit which pervades them and us. 
 Let us make broad and strong the bands of love, 
 that love may triumph over death. Let us not fear 
 the jealousy of a petty man-made God, lest we love 
 too much. Surely it is better to love too much than 
 too little. There is no jealousy in God, for God is 
 all in all. If you worship your wife or your child, 
 you but worship God ; for God pervades them, and 
 they are parts of him. Here is a sentiment put by 
 a Hindu writer into the mouth of Brahma, which I 
 commend to your attention : — 
 
 " I am the same to all mankind. They who hon- 
 estly serve other gods involuntarily worship me. 
 I am he that partaketh of all worship, and I am the 
 reward of all worshippers." 
 
 Now compare the grand magnanimity of this 
 utterance with the petty jealousy of Yahweh, the 
 tribal deity of ancient Israel, as exhibited in the 
 following passages : " Thou shalt have no other gods 
 before me." "For I the Lord thy God am a jeal- 
 ous God, visiting the iniquities of the fathers upon 
 the children unto the third and fourth generation of 
 them that hate me." "Thou shalt worship no other 
 god : for the Lord, whose name is Jealous, is a jeal- 
 
134 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 ous god." "The Lord thy God is a consuming fire, 
 even a jealous god." " If thy brother, the son of 
 thy mother, or thy son, or thy daughter, or the wife 
 of thy bosom, or thy friend, which is as thine own 
 soul, entice thee secretly, saying. Let us go and 
 serve other gods, . . . thou shalt not consent unto him, 
 nor hearken unto him ; neither shall thine eye pity 
 him, neither shalt thou spare, neither shalt thou con- 
 ceal him : but thou shalt surely kill him ; thine hand 
 shall be first upon him to put him to death, and 
 afterwards the hand of all the people. And thou 
 shalt stone him with stones, that he die ; because he 
 hath sought to thrust thee away from the Lord thy 
 God, which brought thee out of the land of Egypt, 
 from the house of bondage." 
 
 Is it not time that our devotional services be ex- 
 purgated of such sentiments ; that our conception 
 of God be ennobled from that of the degraded rabble 
 of Hebrew slaves who followed Moses out of Egypt 
 over three thousand years ago ? 
 
 Who can doubt, for a moment, that a marvellous 
 intelligence pervades the universe .' Not outside of 
 it, not directing it as an outside agency, but within 
 it, inherent to every portion, every atom of it. Our 
 own intelligence and that of the animals needs no 
 demonstration ; but intelligence does not stop with 
 the animals : we find it also in the plants. We have 
 all seen flowers nestle their leaves together, and go 
 to sleep at nightfall. There are plants which set 
 traps for, and catch, flies upon which they feed. 
 Some species of the sensitive plant become angry if 
 
THE LARGER CONCEPTION OF GOD I35 
 
 disturbed, and emit a pungent odor. Various flowers 
 depend on the bee, the butterfly, and the humming- 
 bird for their fertilization, and adapt themselves to 
 the habits of their visitors. 
 
 Can any one in his right mind ascribe such nice 
 adaptation of means to an end to a mere conjunction 
 of senseless atoms, or say there is no design here 
 exhibited .' That there is a marvellous intelligence 
 pervading nature, and adapting every part thereof 
 to wise purposes, must be apparent to the most 
 sceptical. But there are insuperable difficulties in 
 the way of accepting the theory of a localized God, 
 outside of nature, superintending and directing the 
 minutiae thereof. Therefore, I prefer to regard God 
 as the internal life of nature, and all material forms 
 as the expression of that life. He is "over all, and 
 through all, and in all." 
 
 The practical application of this theory of God 
 to our daily life must be most admirable. Recog- 
 nizing the God in all things, and through him our 
 divine relationship to all, the heart will be filled with 
 tenderness and love for every form of being. We 
 shall realise what Longfellow has so beautifully ex- 
 pressed in his " Aftermath " : — 
 
 " That life in all its forms is one, 
 And that its secret conduits run 
 Unseen, but in unbroken line, 
 From the great Fountain-head Divine, 
 Through man and beast, through grain and grass." 
 
 We shall recognize our kinship to our dog and 
 our horse, even as we do to our child ; and we shall 
 
136 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 extend to all creatures our mercy and protection. 
 Even the flowers shall attain a new significance in 
 their fragrance and colorings, and every bud shall 
 open to reveal the indwelling God. But, you will 
 ask, is not this simple animism .' Wherein does 
 this differ from the worship of primitive man, who 
 endows each visible object with an invisible soul .' 
 
 It differs in this : that, whereas the savage recog- 
 nizes and worships a myriad isolated intelligences, 
 good and evil, I worship the infinite sum of all in- 
 telligences ; he worships the separate drops, I wor- 
 ship the ocean which contains all the drops. Some 
 of those drops are dearer to me than others, and 
 with these I seek to be ; but those for which I care 
 not are equally parts of God. Yet I believe that 
 the nature-worship of the savage is nearer to the 
 truth than is any creed formulated hitherto by 
 the conceited pedantry of book-men. As Jesus ex- 
 pressed it, "Thou hast hid these things from the 
 wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto 
 babes." Untutored savages frequently hold a far 
 purer faith than Christian missionaries carry to 
 them. 
 
 Thus feebly have I striven to convey to you 
 what I regard as the larger conception of God. 
 When I shall pass beyond the veil of death, I ex- 
 pect to see and recognize the friends I have known 
 and loved here ; but I do not expect ever to see 
 God in form. There, as here, no part can compre- 
 hend the whole, the finite cannot contain the In- 
 finite. Therefore, as here I travel over the earth. 
 
THE LARGER CONCEPTION OF GOD 1 37 
 
 inspecting its beauties, wondering at the starry- 
 heavens above, and worshipping the indwelling, all- 
 pervading Spirit, so there I shall also admire and 
 wonder and worship in exact proportion to my 
 mental growth. Throughout eternity, I never ex- 
 pect to meet with any higher or nobler expression 
 of God than a perfected man or woman. This is 
 his highest expression here, and I can conceive of 
 no higher expression there. We are gods, for God 
 dwells in us and we in him. Surely the dignity of 
 such a thought should impel us to nobility of life. 
 
 And now as to the origin of the material universe : 
 I believe that it has always been. It is the visible 
 expression, or ever-existent body, of the invisible, 
 ever-existent soul of God. It is impossible to con- 
 ceive of a time when it was not in some form. 
 " Out of nothing, nothing comes " ; and it is impos- 
 sible to conceive of the creation of worlds out of 
 nothing. This world in which I live, this body 
 which is my visible covering, this soul which is 
 myself, have ever been in some form, and must 
 eternally remain. Nothing can be created, and 
 nothing can be lost. The meanest worm of earth, 
 both as to matter and intelligence, is, as to its 
 ultimate atoms, co-existent and co-eternal with God ; 
 for it is a component part of God. 
 
 Tell me, — is not this conception of one uniform, 
 supreme intelligence, alike pervading the atom and 
 linking together distant worlds, ever working, ever 
 evolving, ever progressing, — is not this, I say, a 
 larger, grander, nobler conception of God than the 
 
138 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 petty, jealous being portrayed in the evangelical 
 creeds, who made men to destroy them, and then, 
 repenting of his own malignance, died on the cross 
 to save them from himself? In the light of this 
 larger conception, cannot we worship the Supreme 
 Soul more intelligently, feeling that " he is not far 
 from each one of us : for in him we live, and move, 
 and have our being " ? 
 
 "All are but parts of one stupendous whole, 
 Whose body Nature is, and God the soul ; 
 That, changed through all, is yet in all the same ; 
 Great in the earth as in the ethereal frame ; 
 Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze, 
 Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees ; 
 Lives through all life, extends through all extent, 
 Spreads undivided, operates unspent. 
 Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part. 
 As full, as perfect, in a hair as heart ; 
 As full, as perfect, in vile man that mourns 
 As the rapt seraph that adores and burns : 
 To Him no high, no low, no great, no small : 
 He fills, he bounds, connects, and equals all." 
 
THE SECRET OF JESUS. 
 
 " I and the Father are one." — John x., 30. 
 
 What was the secret of Jesus' influence, — first, 
 upon those about him ; second, upon posterity .' 
 That that influence was and still is great, none can 
 deny ; for the results are before us. Four hundred 
 millions of Christians to-day worship in his name 
 and call him Master. Nearly one-third of the 
 earth's population count the gibbet upon which he 
 died, as a condemned malefactor, a sacred emblem. 
 Kings acknowledge him the " King of kings," and 
 autocrats bow down to him as " Lord of all." Even 
 we, who deny his divinity, yet speak his name with 
 reverence, call him leader, and bow to his sugges- 
 tions. These are tremendous facts that cannot be 
 gainsaid. We have found an effect, let us now look 
 for the cause. 
 
 There can be no effect without a cause : " Out 
 of nothing, nothing comes." As this is true of 
 matter, so it is equally true of mind. It were worse 
 than idle to depreciate the personality of Jesus, or 
 to say that this grand movement sprang from a man 
 of straw. A cipher, though infinitely multiplied, 
 produces only a cipher; but here the grand result 
 
140 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 transcends all power of human calculation. Who, 
 then, was Jesus, and what the secret of his influence ? 
 He was a Jew, the son of Joseph and Mary, born 
 at Nazareth in Galilee (an outlying country district 
 of Palestine) about eighteen hundred and eighty- 
 seven years ago. His family were poor and ob- 
 scure ; and he was brought up to his father's trade 
 of carpentry, and probably worked thereat in his 
 native village until middle life. Then he became 
 a public teacher, and — for probably one year, 
 possibly a year and a half — traversed his little 
 home district of Galilee (about equal in extent to 
 this county of Plymouth) discoursing to the country 
 people upon moral, religious, and philosophic sub- 
 jects. His following was small, and at best but 
 faint-hearted ; for, at his trial before Pilate on the 
 charges of heresy and sedition, not one stood for- 
 ward to defend him, and he who had been the 
 loudest in protestations of fidelity denied him with 
 curses. He died alone, forsaken by the friends on 
 whom he depended, and apparently forsaken by God 
 in whom he trusted. Yet even in death he tri- 
 umphed, and the fruits of his victory are here to-day. 
 How was this accomplished ? 
 
 The genius of the Jewish people ran ever to 
 religion : all other matters were of secondary im- 
 portance, and must give way to this. When wan- 
 dering as separate tribes, their priests ruled them 
 in peace and led them in war; when confederated 
 into one nation, the Church was still the power 
 behind the throne : the priesthood made and un- 
 
THE SECRET OF JESUS I4I 
 
 made kings at will; for they claimed to utter the 
 oracles of God, and the people believed them. 
 
 Thus, though for seven hundred years before 
 Jesus the nation had been disintegrated, and tossed, 
 through fortune of war, as flies the shuttle-cock 
 from hand to hand, yet the Jews clung ardently 
 to their hope of national restoration : " Sometime 
 a leader must arise, who shall restore Israel to her 
 former greatness." 
 
 Now, during these seven centuries of servitude, 
 the Jews had, of necessity, been intimately asso- 
 ciated with many nations whose civilization far 
 surpassed their own.. Among these may be men- 
 tioned the Egyptians, the Assyrians, the Chaldeans, 
 the Persians, the Greeks, and the Romans. That 
 they had profited by such association is undoubted. 
 Not only in secular matters were their ideas en- 
 larged, but their subsequent religious traditions and 
 observances show marked traces of these outside 
 influences. Their language, also, was modified by 
 such association, and, in some districts, even radi- 
 cally changed. Thus, in the time of Jesus, in 
 Galilee the Aramaic or Syriac dialect was spoken 
 instead of Hebrew ; and it is supposed that this was 
 the language in which Jesus taught. Greek was 
 also spoken by the more educated people and gov- 
 ernment officials in Asia, but Latin was the court 
 language at Rome. It is probable that, in addition 
 to the Syriac dialect, Jesus knew something of 
 Greek; for his trial before Pilate must have been 
 conducted in that language, and nothing is said to 
 
142 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 indicate that interpreters were used. He may have 
 understood Hebrew ; but this is not likely, as his 
 quotations from the Scriptures are invariably from 
 the Syriac translation used in the Galilean syna- 
 gogues, and not from the Hebrew originals. 
 
 To those who claim that Jesus was God, it has 
 ever been a stumbling-block that he taught no new 
 thing. So long as Christians remained in igno- 
 rance of the teachings of those seers and prophets 
 of the world who preceded Jesus, it was an easy 
 thing for the Church to assert that this man only 
 had taught God's truth, that he only had " brought 
 life and immortality to light." But modern research 
 has stripped the veil from many an ancient mystery, 
 and the art of printing has made every hind a sage. 
 The ploughboy of to-day knows more than did the 
 priest of a thousand years ago; and, moreover, his 
 best interest lies in discovery, not in concealment. 
 Let churchmen mourn over creed decadence, and 
 bewail the spread of unbelief. I hail both as a sign 
 of progress. Truth is eternal, and no assaults can 
 possibly shake her citadel. Falsehood alone has 
 need to fear investigation ; a phantom of darkness, 
 she fades before the light of day. 
 
 Modern research has revealed the storehouses 
 from whence the man Jesus drew his supplies. He 
 created nothing : he simply adapted the materials 
 already at hand. The gold had been coined and 
 recoined by his predecessors ; and he minted it once 
 again, and passed it on. The wisdom of Egypt was 
 his, and he took it from hands of sages entombed 
 
THE SECRET OF JESUS I43 
 
 five thousand years before his birth. The wisdom 
 of Persia was his ; and, through the dim colonnade 
 of a remote and misty past, Zoroaster whispered his 
 godlike message. Travellers from India and far 
 Cathay brought sayings of Buddha and precepts of 
 Confucius, — like choice wine already mouldy with 
 age. The Siren of Socrates sang constantly to him 
 the praise of virtue, and affirmed the reality of the 
 immortal life. "Heir of all the ages," and "fore- 
 most in the files of time," Jesus drew tribute from 
 every treasury, remelted and recoined the gold, im- 
 pressed his likeness upon every coin, and sent it 
 forth, brighter than before, to an enlarged mission 
 of circulation. The glory of Jesus is not that he 
 created the gold, but that he refined it ; not that he 
 first minted the coin, but that he reminted it and 
 made it more adaptable to human needs. 
 
 "But, if this were all," you will say, "wherein 
 does he surpass us .■' We have all the wisdom of all 
 the ages spread before us to a far greater extent 
 than he can possibly have had ; and, in addition 
 thereto, we have the benefit of his teaching. Why 
 cannot we equal or even surpass him in the use of 
 this material ? " 
 
 The answer is twofold : first, we lack capacity ; 
 second, we lack purpose. 
 
 Here is a library of ten thousand volumes, con- 
 taining an epitome of the world's wisdom ; and here 
 are one hundred youths who have free access thereto, 
 all having equal advantages. What is the result.' 
 You will say. Perhaps one of the hundred may 
 
144 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 become an Emerson ; the remaining ninety-nine will 
 never rise above mediocrity. 
 
 True ; and why is this ? Given the same advan- 
 tages, why do some succeed and others fail ? As 
 well ask, Why does one egg produce a tortoise ; 
 a second, a barn-door fowl ; a third, the melodious 
 songster of the woods; a fourth, the eagle soaring 
 in the sky ? It is simply the universal law of differ- 
 ence everywhere apparent. " Like produces like," 
 but never exactly alike. It is supposed that there 
 are no two blades of grass, no two grains of sand, in 
 this whole world, exactly alike ; and, as we find this 
 difference in physical structure, so we find it in 
 mental structure. Infinite variety of form and in- 
 finite diversity of gifts insure the infinite change 
 necessary to our enjoyment of life, and prove infi- 
 nite wisdom. How flat, how stale, how unprofitable 
 were life without such variety ! If trees were all 
 birch or all beech or all poplar; if men were the 
 only living organisms, and each an exact copy of all 
 his fellows in form and feature, in thought and act, — 
 unvaried prints from an unchanging negative, — how 
 life would pall upon the sense, how wearisome must 
 be the monotony ! 
 
 And as we find infinite variety of form, so we find 
 infinite variety of capacity ; and this not only from 
 species to species, but from individual to individual : 
 from Jesus to Emerson, from Emerson to the savage. 
 Such variation comes not from special providence, in 
 the usual acceptance of that term : it is the neces- 
 sary effect of natural law ; yet that natural law is 
 
THE SECRET OF JESUS 1 45 
 
 none the less providential. That God works by 
 means does not invalidate the fact that God works. 
 
 I argue, therefore, that Jesus was a man of great 
 natural capacity ; not the pallid effeminate of medi- 
 eval art, but a born leader, — virile, strong, a sound 
 mind in a sound body. As Saul towered head and 
 shoulders above all the warriors of Israel, so Jesus 
 towered intellectually head and shoulders above the 
 learned sages of his time ; and this not because of 
 greater opportunity, but because of greater capacity. 
 He was undoubtedly the greatest man of his time. 
 Was he the greatest man of all time .' Convention- 
 ality demands the stereotyped answer. Yes. Some 
 of you say Yes, and it would please you if at this 
 moment I should answer Yes. Will it not please 
 you equally well if I set conventionality aside, and 
 answer honestly, I do not know ? He may have been. 
 I find the record of many great intellects and grand 
 lives upon the page of history. At best, " compari- 
 sons are odious," for no two lives are ever subject to 
 exactly the same conditions ; therefore, no two lives 
 are capable of comparison. Let us rest at this : 
 judging by the work he did, Jesus was a man won- 
 derfully endowed with the intellectual quality. But 
 this was not his only or his chief characteristic. 
 There was a power in the man transcending the 
 intellect ; and this latter power I count the grand 
 secret of his success. I refer to the intensity of his 
 spiritual life. 
 
 I do not believe, I have not believed for years, 
 that the nature of Jesus differed in any sense from 
 
146 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 ours. He was a man like one of us, — subject to 
 temptation, liable to sin. I do not believe he was 
 perfect, for perfection belongs only to God ; and, if 
 we can credit the record, he expressly denied that 
 he was perfect : " Why callest thou me good ? 
 there is none, good but one." 
 
 Such a conclusion could arise in his mind only 
 from a consciousness of guilt. Temptation is not 
 sin. Temptation is one of the threads out of which 
 the fabric of life is woven. It is a part of the divine 
 plan for our education ; and we are no more respon- 
 sible for our temptations than we are for our exist- 
 ence. Our responsibility is not that we are tempted, 
 but that- we yield when we might and ought to 
 resist. The limit of our responsibility is the length 
 of our tether, — not one inch less or more. A bowl 
 has been handed to us. Shall we stir up the impuri- 
 ties it contains, or shall we distil only the clear liq- 
 uid for our draught ? That Jesus was tempted goes 
 without saying, for temptation is inwoven with the 
 very fibre of every human life ; that he was tempted 
 implies a capacity to sin, for without such capacity 
 there could be no temptation. That he did, to a 
 limited degree, yield to temptation, I have no doubt ; 
 for if he did not, then he was perfect, and if he was 
 perfect, then he was God. But he expressly denies 
 his perfection, and thereby reveals his consciousness 
 of transgression. Jesus was not a perfect man in 
 the absolute sense of that word, for there never has 
 been and never can be a perfect man ; but he was 
 pre-eminently a good man, walking with God. The 
 
THE SECRET OF JESUS I47 
 
 crucifixion of his body was but an after-type of that 
 self-crucifixion, the crucifixion of all base desires, 
 which he had already wrought upon his mind. Thus 
 had he arisen to that sublime height of spiritual com- 
 munion wherein the harmonies of God were revealed, 
 and he could truly say, " I and the Father are one." 
 Not one in personality, but one in purpose; not 
 one in power, but one in the complete self-surrender 
 of the creature to the Creator. 
 
 I doubt not that all here have experienced hours 
 of soul exaltation, when heaven and God seemed 
 nearer than usual. I believe that such experiences 
 might be had to some extent by every human being, 
 if he would. I believe that with some this condition 
 of divine insight might be made permanent even 
 during their earth-life. It is, I think, a foreshad- 
 owing of some condition beyond, — higher, grander, 
 nobler, — to which we shall some day attain. Why are 
 these seasons so infrequent and so fleeting? Is it 
 not because our lives are on so low a plane ? Like 
 the serpent, we crawl in the dust, when, like the 
 eagle, our destiny points us to the stars. 
 
 It is this that I mean, when I say that I believe 
 Jesus to have been one with us in nature. It is this 
 that I mean, when I say that I believe him to have 
 been superior to us in capacity and purpose. As 
 Shakspere had a genius for letters, and Napoleon for 
 war, and Herschel for astronomy, and Agassiz for 
 natural history, — so Jesus had a genius for religion. 
 Each one here knows something of composition, yet 
 there is not a Shakspere among us. Each knows 
 
148 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 something of astronomy, but we look in vain for a 
 Herschel. We have all studied natural history, but 
 where is the Agassiz? Why have these men sur- 
 passed us, each in his peculiar province? Simply 
 because, first. Nature — which is but another name 
 for God — had endowed him with a special aptitude 
 for that work ; and, second, because he consecrated his 
 life to that work. Here, then, I believe, is the secret 
 of Jesus' success in a nutshell, — first, a special apti- 
 tude for religion, and, second, a special consecration 
 to religion. Through that special consecration, that 
 unwavering purpose, he develpped his natural apti- 
 tude, and, trampling under foot the grossness of 
 his earth-nature, rose to the sublime heights of 
 spiritual communion. In the complete satisfaction of 
 that wondrous communion, fed with that immaculate 
 bread of heaven for which our souls hunger, per- 
 ceiving the supreme harmony in which we believe, 
 but which our ears are too dull to hear, — might he 
 not truly say, " I and the Father are one " .' 
 
 Other ears than his have heard that wondrous har- 
 mony; other faces than his, uplifted, have been 
 touched by the light that shines from heaven ; 
 other feet have trampled low desire under foot, 
 and scaled the shining bastions ; other hands, 
 upstretched, have drawn down the blessing from 
 above. Innumerable multitudes keep step in the 
 onward march. Ten million times ten million voices 
 swell the chorus of praise. But the loving acclama- 
 tion of a world has proclaimed him leader and chief ; 
 and who shall dispute his title ? Let us not waste 
 
THE SECRET OF JESUS 1 49 
 
 time in idle comparisons : we shall not dim the 
 glory of others by acknowledging that he is worthy. 
 Let us not waste time in complaining that we with 
 one talent cannot do what he did with ten : if we 
 have but one, for that one only must we render 
 account. His example is ours to follow so nearly 
 as we can. The temptations we endure, he suffered, 
 and at last conquered. The spiritual life he attained 
 on earth may be ours, if we will ; not perhaps to the 
 same degree, but the same in kind. Is it not worth 
 our while to strive for it, in the light of his teaching 
 and example ? 
 
PAUL'S LIFE AND WORK. 
 
 Emerson calls Plato " the twin star of Socrates, so 
 intimately associated with him that the most power- 
 ful glass cannot tell them apart." So, looking back- 
 ward to the dim daWn of Christianity, we find the 
 twin stars of Jesus and Paul glittering on the hori- 
 zon, and are often at a loss to distinguish between 
 them. The parallel is striking to a degree. 'Soc- 
 rates wrote nothing ; and principally through the 
 writings of his disciple Plato are his teachings pre- 
 served. Jesus wrote nothing; and principally to 
 the exertions of Paul are we indebted that Christi- 
 anity did not end on Calvary. But here the com- 
 parison ceases ; for Plato sat ten years at the feet 
 of Socrates, hearkening to the words of wisdom 
 which flowed from his lips, and with ready pen 
 transcribing these for transmission to posterity. 
 He attended him on his trial, and was one of the 
 favored few who heard that wondrous discourse upon 
 immortality, with which the dying sage cheered his 
 desponding friends. But, on the contrary, Paul never 
 met Jesus ; and all that he believed and taught 
 concerning him was not of his own knowledge, but 
 from the evidence of others. Thus, in the history of 
 Socrates, we need only question as to the reliability 
 
PAULS LIFE AND WORK 151 
 
 of Plato; but, in the history of Jesus, we must 
 satisfy ourselves, first, as to the reliability of Paul, 
 and, second, as to the reliability of his sources 
 of information. 
 
 As to who Paul was, and what were his teachings, 
 we have the best possible authority in his own 
 letters to the early churches ; and from these we 
 glean the following facts : He was a Jew of the 
 tribe of Benjamin, and prided himself on the purity 
 of his Hebrew descent. He was educated as a 
 rabbi or teacher in the strict letter of the Jewish 
 ceremonial, and became a zealous Pharisee. In ob- 
 servance of the Mosaic law, his conduct was irre- 
 proachable; and in his zeal therefor he became a 
 bitter persecutor of those Greek Jews who acknowl- 
 edged the crucified Nazarene as Christ. He de- 
 scribes himself as weak in bodily presence, and of 
 no account in speech; but that he was a subtle 
 theologian and brilliant writer, we can see for our- 
 selves. Yet, though he became pre-eminently the 
 apostle of Christianity to the Gentiles, he was 
 never thoroughly acquainted with the Greek lan- 
 guage, and usually dictated his letters, — sometimes, 
 however, adding a short postscript at the end, in his 
 own handwriting. 
 
 Of so much only are we certain. In addition 
 thereto, we are informed, in the Book of Acts (writ- 
 ten by unknown hands some sixty years after his 
 death), that he was born at Tarsus, the capital city 
 of the Roman province of Cilicia, and was at first 
 known by the Jewish name of Saul ; that he in- 
 
152 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 herited the rights of Roman citizenship through his 
 father ; was educated in Jerusalem, in the school of 
 the Jewish Rabbi Gamaliel ; was a young man at 
 the time of Stephen's martyrdom, and took part 
 therein. 
 
 These averments may all be true; yet it is at least 
 worthy of consideration that, had Paul been born at 
 Tarsus and spent any considerable portion of his 
 youth there, he must have become familiar with the 
 Greek language, and have been impressed by Greek 
 habits of thought ; for this city was a centre of 
 philosophy and culture, second only in importance 
 to Athens and Alexandria. Again, had he, as 
 alleged, been educated in Jerusalem, he must have 
 been informed concerning John the Baptist and 
 his preaching in the wilderness near by; whereas, 
 throughout his writings, he shows no sign of such 
 information. He must, further, have been cognizant 
 of the teachings of Jesus and of his trial and cruci- 
 fixion ; whereas, he appears never to have seen 
 Jesus, or even to have heard of him during the 
 latter's lifetime. 
 
 As to what changed this fierce persecutor of the 
 Christians into the most zealous advocate of Chris- 
 tianity, we have, unfortunately, no answer from the 
 man himself. He simply tells us that God had, from 
 his birth, designed him for the apostolate ; and he 
 expressly denies that any other person contributed 
 to his change of thought. The Book of Acts gives 
 no less than three separate accounts of his miracu- 
 lous conversion by a vision from heaven. But, as 
 
PAULS LIFE AND WORK I53 
 
 these accounts contradict each other in important 
 details, and are all at variance with Paul's own words, 
 we are compelled to reject them as wholly unreliable. 
 But we glean from his own statements that, becom- 
 ing perplexed over the current traditions concerning 
 the crucified Jesus, whom he had hitherto regarded 
 as an impostor and blasphemer, justly condemned, 
 he left Damascus, where he was then living, and 
 retired to Arabia, where, in some obscure village, 
 apart from all former associations, he probably sup- 
 ported himself by his trade of tent-making, while, by 
 diligent study of the Hebrew Messianic prophecies, 
 and comparison of these with the stories he had 
 gathered regarding Jesus, he became convinced that 
 the latter had really been the Messiah. Then, grad- 
 ually, he evolved that intricate system of theology 
 with which he subsequently impressed the world, and 
 under which the world still labors as under a hideous 
 nightmare. I refer to the doctrine of original sin 
 and the blood atonement of Christ. 
 
 The Jewish religion rested on the law of Moses. 
 Only by strict observance of that law in all its de- 
 tails was justification before God possible. Only 
 thus could the individual or the nation find favor 
 with God. The coming of the Messiah, and, under 
 him, the restoration of the nation to its former mag- 
 nificence, was the signal of divine favor promised 
 by the prophets and anxiously expected by the 
 people. The assertion that Messiah had died upon 
 the cross, a condemned malefactor, was an abomina- 
 tion to every loyal Jew. Such a doctrine involved 
 
154 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 the complete overthrow of Judaism ; and therefore 
 it was that Paul had so rigorously persecuted the 
 hated sect of the Nazarenes. Yet, was it wholly 
 impossible that a higher revelation might abrogate 
 the law of Moses ? Had the law proved adequate ? 
 Alas ! it had not. Then, in the wisdom of God, 
 might not a new way be opened ? Only a righteous 
 nation might hope for the Messiah ; but how sinful 
 was this nation ! Could it be that God had provided 
 an atonement for their sin ? Could it be that the 
 Messiah had really come in the person of this man 
 Jesus ? had fulfilled the law in his life, and made 
 atonement for the nation's' sins in his death ? But 
 the cross, — that death of infamy ! Surely, here was 
 proof positive that God had rejected him. And yet, 
 the greater the infamy, the greater the atonement. 
 Suppose it was true, as asserted, that Jesus had 
 indeed risen from the underworld of shades and 
 ascended to God the Father, thence presently to 
 return and establish his kingdom upon earth. Then, 
 all would be clear. But could this be true ? 
 
 Such, doubtless, were the thoughts and questions 
 which occupied the mind of Paul during his sojourn 
 in Arabia. He reflected on the peaceful courage 
 with which the Jew-Christians braved death for the 
 name of Jesus. He revolved all the current tradi- 
 tions concerning Jesus in his mind, — the purity of 
 his life, the beauty of his teachings, the dignity of 
 his death, the faith of his followers. Nay, it could 
 not be a delusion : surely, iAis was "the Christ" ! — 
 the Christ, not of the Jews only, but of the whole 
 
PAULS LIFE AND WORK 1 55 
 
 world ; the Christ only temporarily dead, and soon 
 to return to glory. Not lightly or quickly did he 
 arrive at this decision. How long he remained in 
 seclusion, he does not inform us ; but not until three 
 years had elapsed from his conversion did he for- 
 mally take upon himself the mission to the Gentiles, 
 and begin to preach Christ and him crucified. 
 
 To a proper understanding of his preaching, it 
 is necessary that we know the preacher. Let us, 
 then, picture a man of marked Jewish type ; an 
 intensely nervous temperament ; a fiery and impet- 
 uous spirit in a feeble body ; a weak and quavering 
 voice, thrilled by conviction, and at times rising to 
 sublimest heights of impassioned eloquence ; a poetic 
 nature, wont to idealize and soar above the common 
 things of earth ; a brain subtle and metaphysical, 
 constantly striving after the mysteries of God ; an 
 imagination restless, glowing, fervent, through 
 which, during periods of fasting and devotion, he 
 experienced visions and dreams of such extraordi- 
 nary vividness that they seemed almost real. Such 
 was the man who was the founder of Christianity. 
 When I say that Paul, and not Jesus, was the 
 founder of Christianity, let not this assertion startle 
 you. Jesus, out of the depths of a profoundly re- 
 ligious soul, taught natural religion only. Love — 
 love to God and love to man — was the key-note of 
 his discourse. Paul, out of a disoi-dered imagina- 
 tion, evolved an elaborate system of theology, — 
 which Jesus would have repudiated with scorn, — 
 and named this system Christianity. Therefore it 
 
IS6 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 is that I count it a higher honor to be called " a 
 disciple of Jesus " than " a Christian," or follower of 
 Paul. 
 
 The death of Jesus had dispersed the disciples at 
 Jerusalem ; but gradually, as reports began to cir- 
 culate that he had risen from the underworld of 
 shades, and had ascended temporarily to heaven, 
 thence speedily to return, they reassembled and 
 formed a little secret community, over which James, 
 the brother of Jesus, Peter, and John presided. 
 
 These believers in Jesus differed but very slightly 
 from other Jews. They kept the letter of the 
 Mosaic law rigidly, practising circumcision, the 
 washing of hands, and all other prescribed ceremo- 
 nies, as did the mass of their fellow-countrymen. 
 Their chief, James, was especially a formalist; and 
 his strict observance of the ceremonial law gained 
 for him, among the Jews, the title of " the Just." 
 The earliest church historian, himself a Jew-Chris- 
 tian, says that James was holy from his birth, ab- 
 staining from all intoxicating drinks, from animal 
 food, and from anointing and bathing himself; that 
 he wore nothing but linen; and, through constant 
 prayer in the temple, his knees became calloused 
 like those of a camel. Thus it was that the apos- 
 tles and disciples of Jesus, and even his own family, 
 misunderstood and misapplied his teachings. They 
 " made clean the outside of the cup and of the 
 platter," and trusted wholly to forms for their justi- 
 fication before God. In fact, the only difference 
 between them and the other Jews was this, — that, 
 
PAULS LIFE AND WORK IS/ 
 
 while the latter expected a Messiah not yet arrived, 
 the former believed Messiah had already come, and 
 would soon return to establish his kingdom. And,' 
 in their narrow conception of Jesus' meaning, this 
 kingdom which he should shortly establish was to 
 be an earthly kingdom for the benefit of Jews only ; 
 and they, his personal friends, were to hold the 
 chief oflSces therein. 
 
 From the very first, Paul seems to have enter- 
 tained a larger conception of Jesus' mission, or, 
 rather, the same conception more elaborated. He 
 argued that salvation was not for the Jews only, but 
 for all that believe. " For as in Adam all die, so 
 also in Christ shall all be made alive." Therefore, 
 upon his conversion, he did not go to Jerusalem, 
 or in any way submit himself to the elders there 
 resident ; but, establishing himself at Antioch, the 
 capital city of Syria, — a place equal in population 
 and importance to Paris of to-day, — he there preached 
 to Jews and Gentiles indiscriminately the doctrine 
 of the risen Christ, the immediate coming of the 
 kingdom, and justification through faith in Christ. 
 To the Jews he was still a Jew, and probably, in 
 his daily life, strictly observed the Jewish forms. 
 But of his Gentile converts he required no form 
 whatever, not even circumcision : simply repentance, 
 a pure life, and belief in Jesus as the Messiah. Upon 
 these conditions, he promised them an equal share 
 with the children of Israel in the kingdom soon to 
 be established. 
 
 His eloquence and zeal gained many converts, 
 
IS8 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 and these naturally talked much among themselves 
 about " the Christ " and the looked-for kingdom. 
 Now, we know that " Christ " is but a title, and not 
 a name. It is the Greek equivalent of the He- 
 brew word "Messiah," and is translated by the 
 English word "anointed." When we speak of 
 "the Christ," it is as if we spoke of "the Gov- 
 ernor," or "the Judge." And, as there have been 
 many "governors " and many "judges" among us, 
 so among the Jews, from time to time, there were 
 many men who took the title of " Christ." There- 
 fore it is that I prefer to call Jesus by his own name, 
 which seems to me much more honorable and dis- 
 tinctive than the title "Christ," which has been 
 borne by so many mere adventurers. But the 
 people of Antioch, hearing Paul's converts talk so 
 much about " Christ," and supposing that to be the 
 name of a man, called them, in derision, "Chris- 
 tians" ; and so the name has come down to us. Had 
 the converts talked more about the man Jesus, his 
 noble life and grand moral precepts, and less about 
 the expected Christ and the kingdom in which they 
 selfishly hoped to hold office, the nickname would 
 have been different, and we should probably be 
 known as " Disciples of Jesus " or " Jesuits " rather 
 than as " Christians." 
 
 With their strict notions in regard to form and 
 the exclusiveness of "the kingdom," it was hardly 
 to be expected that James and his community at 
 Jerusalem would be satisfied with Paul's methods. 
 At first, they heard only that this former persecutor 
 
PAULS LIFE AND WORK 1 59 
 
 had by some means been converted, and was preach- 
 ing the gospel to the heathen. Knowing him to be 
 a Jew, a Pharisee in good standing, they naturally 
 supposed that of course he obliged all his converts 
 to conform to the Mosaic law and become Jews, 
 before admitting them to Christian fellowship and a 
 share in the kingdom. They therefore thanked God 
 for this new recruit, and were content. But what 
 was their indignation to learn presently that this 
 man Paul boldly promised the kingdom to all pagans 
 who would accept Jesus as "the Christ," without 
 circumcision and without the law. Such heresy 
 must be looked into ; and certain zealous Jew-Chris- 
 tians were despatched to Antioch, there to oppose 
 Paul and bring him to his senses. 
 
 The counter-preaching of these orthodox zealots 
 had its natural effect in a division of Paul's church, 
 and he saw with sorrow the results of long years of 
 labor in danger of destruction through strife of fac- 
 tion. In this dilemma, he determined to waive that 
 pride of spirit which hitherto had kept him an abso- 
 lutely independent worker, and to go to Jerusalem, 
 there to explain his action to the three apostles and 
 ask their blessing on his work. He went, taking 
 with him two companions, and, after considerable 
 controversy, succeeded in persuading James, Peter, 
 and John to withdraw their opposition. They did 
 not renounce their position, however, as to the neces- 
 sity of the law's observance, but it was agreed to 
 leave the question in abeyance until Jesus' return. 
 Then he should decide it. But, as a condition of 
 
l60 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 their non-interference, it was stipulated that Paul 
 should take up a collection among the heathen con- 
 verts, and transmit it to the needy brethren at Jeru- 
 salem. Doubtless glad to settle the matter on such 
 easy terms, Paul returned with his companions to 
 Antioch. But this was only the beginning of his 
 troubles. After a time, Peter came to Antioch, — 
 with what object does not appear. At first, he asso- 
 ciated with the Greek converts on equal terms, and 
 ate with them at table; but, presently, certain of 
 the orthodox arrived from Jerusalem, being sent 
 by James, and took Peter to task for his laxity of 
 behavior. The result was that the latter veered 
 completely around, refused longer to associate with 
 the Gentile brethren, and insisted further that these 
 latter must conform their mode of living to the 
 Jewish law. But the earnest and fiery Paul could 
 hardly be expected to put up with such fickleness 
 in his brother apostle. In the presence of the whole 
 congregation, he "withstood him to the face," and 
 upbraided him with inconsistency and dissimulation. 
 The conflict resulted in a definite breach between 
 them ; and Paul finally left Antioch, and went forth 
 as a missionary. First, he made a short journey to 
 the island of Cyprus and to some of the neighboring 
 Syrian cities, and there established churches.i Then 
 he crossed over into Europe ; and for several years 
 he seems to have travelled through the central and 
 western portions of Asia Minor, in Macedonia (now 
 Turkey) and Achaia (now Greece), sometimes alone, 
 sometimes in company with others ; settling now 
 
Paul's life and work i6i 
 
 here, now there, — in Galatia, at Corinth, at Ephesus, 
 for a few months, perhaps, at a time; establishing 
 churches, preaching Christ and the approaching 
 kingdom with indefatigable zeal, and exhorting men 
 to holiness of life as a preparation for the good 
 time coming. At Philippi and Thessalonica, he was 
 roughly handled by the Jews, and, being obliged to 
 fly from the latter city, retired to Corinth, and from 
 there wrote two letters to the little community he 
 had just founded. These two Epistles of Paul to the 
 Thessalonians are supposed to have been written 
 about the year 53 A.D., twenty years after the death 
 of Jesus. If this supposition is well founded, they 
 are undoubtedly the earliest Christian Scriptures, 
 and the foundation of our New Testament. The 
 Epistles to the Galatians and Corinthians are sup- 
 posed to have been written some two or three years 
 later, and those to the other churches somewhat 
 later yet. 
 
 For twenty years, Paul had followed his chosen 
 profession as the apostle of Christ to the Gentiles. 
 During this period, he had endured all manner of 
 hardship and trial. Constantly travelling by sea and 
 land, — and how inadequate were the means of convey- 
 ance in those early days we may well imagine, — refus- 
 ing aid from the churches, and supporting himself, 
 as best he might, by working off and on at his trade ; 
 ill-treated and insulted by Jews and Gentiles, by 
 Greeks and Romans ; stoned by the populace and 
 scoffed at by the aristocracy, — he tells us : "Of the 
 Jews five times received I forty stripes save one. 
 
I 62 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 Thrice was I beaten with rods, once was I stoned, 
 thrice I suffered shipwreck, a night and a day have I 
 been in the deep [tossed on a spar] ; in journeyings 
 often, in perils of rivers [having to swim them when 
 swollen by torrents], in perils of robbers, in perils 
 from my countrymen [the Jews], in perils from the 
 Gentiles, in perils in the city, in perils in the wil- 
 derness, in perils in the sea, in perils among false 
 brethren ; in labour and travail, in watchings often, 
 in hunger and thirst, in fastings often, in cold and 
 nakedness. Beside those things that are without, 
 there is that which presseth upon me daily, anxiety 
 for all the churches." 
 
 The anxiety of which he here speaks was doubtless 
 occasioned by the constant jealousy and interference 
 of James, Peter, and their party at Jerusalem. The 
 truce patched up upon his first visit had never been 
 kept by them. The visit of Peter to Antioch, 
 which resulted in driving Paul away from that city, 
 was but the re-commencement of hostilities. Em- 
 issaries from Jerusalem followed him everywhere, 
 denying his authority, and striving to nullify his 
 preaching. Think of the tremendous courage of the 
 man. He who had never seen Jesus, who was, by 
 his own confession, " as one born out of due time," 
 dared to withstand the apostles of Jesus, and preach 
 a doctrine wholly at variance with theirs. It had 
 been agreed, for a consideration, to leave the 
 whole question to be settled by Jesus, when he 
 should presently return ; but the years went by, and 
 still he did not come. Therefore, the apostles re- 
 
Paul's life and work 163 
 
 ceded from the agreement, and renewed their oppo- 
 sition, striving to win every Gentile society which 
 Paul formed over to Jewish Christianity. Thus it 
 was that he had such " anxiety for all the churches." 
 
 The weight of years and the hardships of his life 
 began to tell upon him. He had always preferre"d 
 preaching in the larger cities, but had never yet 
 visited Rome. It was now his ambition to preach 
 Christ and his coming kingdom in the capital of the 
 world; but, if he left the churches of Asia and. 
 Greece, in his absence they would surely be won 
 over or dispersed by James and Peter. To guard 
 against this, he determined once more to visit Jeru- 
 salem, taking with him a large sum of money, with 
 which to purchase peace. This money the Gentile 
 churches were urged, by letter and by exhortation, 
 to collect with all possible speed. 
 
 How large a sum was raised, we do not know, but 
 it must have been considerable ; and, with this, Paul 
 went again to Jerusalem, taking with him Titus and 
 seven other friends. 
 
 As to how the party were received by James, 
 Peter, and the others, we have no reliable report ; 
 but it is more than probable that Paul was dealt with 
 treacherously. 
 
 The Book of Acts — compiled long afterward, with 
 a distinct political purpose — gives the following 
 account, which may or may not be true, its object 
 being to gloss over these early quarrels, and prove 
 Paul a thorough Jew, preaching to Gentiles only 
 when the Jews refused to hear him, and submitting 
 in all things to James and Peter. 
 
164 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 Certain Jews from Ephesus, who were enemies 
 of his, observed him, one day, in the temple ; and, 
 having seen him, a short time before, walking with a 
 Greek friend named Trophimus, they jumped at the 
 conclusion that Paul was in the habit of desecrating 
 the place of worship by bringing Gentiles therein. 
 Filled with rage at the thought, by their cries they 
 incited a riot, in which he must surely have been 
 killed, had not the Roman garrison come to the 
 rescue, and taken him into custody. Even then 
 the soldiers were compelled to carry their prisoner 
 bodily, in order to preserve him from the infuriated 
 mob. In this way, he was at last brought into the 
 castle, and placed in confinement. Later, a con- 
 spiracy to murder him having been discovered, the 
 captain of the garrison despatched him by night, 
 under escort, to Csesarea, to be tried by the provin- 
 cial governor, Felix. Here he remained in prison 
 two years, without judgment, until Felix was suc- 
 ceeded in office by Festus, who speedily called the 
 case for hearing. At the hearing, Festus showed 
 some disposition to accede to the request of the Jews 
 that Paul should be sent back to Jerusalem for trial ; 
 but the latter, knowing that this was but an excuse 
 upon their part to get an opportunity to murder him, 
 stood upon his rights as a Roman citizen, and ap- 
 pealed to Caesar at Rome. This, appeal, of course, 
 stayed all further proceedings before the local tribu- 
 nal ; and, along with two friends and several other 
 prisoners, Paul was given in charge to a centurion, 
 and embarked on a merchant-vessel for the capital. 
 
Paul's life and work 165 
 
 They encountered much bad weather, and were 
 finally wrecked on the island of Malta; but fortu- 
 nately escaped with their lives, though losing all be- 
 sides. After three months' stay on the island, they 
 procured another ship, and proceeded to Rome. 
 
 There was in Rome, at this time, a small commu- 
 nity of Christians already founded; and a number 
 of these brethren met Paul and his companions at 
 Appii Forum, about forty miles outside the walls, 
 and escorted them into the city. We are not told 
 to which of the two sects these Christians belonged ; 
 but we may well believe the historian when he says 
 that, when Paul saw them, "he thanked God, and 
 took courage." 
 
 We learn that he remained two years in Rome, 
 a prisoner, but living in his own lodgings, the 
 soldier in whose charge he was being constantly 
 chained to him by the arm. During this period, 
 the Epistles to Timothy, Philemon, and the Philip- 
 pians were probably written. 
 
 From this on, all is bare conjecture as to his sub- 
 sequent life or ultimate fate. 
 
 On July 19 of the year 64 A.D., a fire broke 
 out in Rome, and raged for nine days with irre- 
 sistible fury, destroying nearly the whole city. 
 The Emperor Nero, Vho had already made himself 
 notorious by his crimes and debauchery, was firmly 
 believed by the people to have caused the conflagra- 
 tion. It is even charged that he viewed the scene 
 with delight from a neighboring hill, and amused 
 himself during its progress by reciting verses and 
 
1 66 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 playing on a musical instrument. However this 
 may be, he speedily found that his own safety 
 required that suspicion should be directed to some 
 other quarter. He therefore publicly accused the 
 Christians of the deed, and instituted a most hor- 
 rible persecution against them. They were de- 
 nounced as "enemies of mankind," and treated as 
 such. Some were crucified ; some were thrown to 
 the wild beasts of the amphitheatre ; some , were 
 wrapped in skins of animals, and worried to death 
 by bloodhounds ; some were smeared with resin and 
 pitch, secured to stakes of pine wood, and burned at 
 nightfall to illuminate the public gardens. In this 
 persecution, Paul is supposed to have perished. 
 
 Thus ends the record of an heroic life. What 
 shall be our verdict thereon .' 
 
PAUL'S THEOLOGY OF "CHRIST," AND 
 PAUL'S RELIGION OF JESUS. 
 
 "If any man preach any other gospel unto you than that ye 
 have received, let him be accursed." — Gal. i., 9. 
 
 " There is no distinction between Jew and Greek : for the same 
 Lord is Lord of all, and is rich unto all that call upon him." — 
 Rom. X., 12. 
 
 " Love is the fulfilling of the law." — Rom. xiii., 10. 
 
 That theology and religion have but little in 
 common, and are often wholly antagonistic, must be 
 evident to all who think theology is of the head, 
 religion is of the heart. Theology is an intellectual 
 exercise, a speculative fancy, a weird phantom of 
 the imagination. Religion is an ciffection, a reach- 
 ing out of the soul toward its divine source, an 
 aspiration born of God, and tending to God. 
 
 They differ as to character, and so also do their 
 fruits differ. Religion is gentle and loving ; theol- 
 ogy is harsh and intolerant. Religion seeks to bene- 
 fit man ; theology, to sustain a faction. Religion 
 breathes the Beatitudes ; theology erects the cross. 
 Religion prays, " Father, forgive them " ; theology 
 mocks the sufferer. 
 
 Yet, with all their differences, strange to say, the 
 two constantly touch and interlace. Theology is 
 
1 68 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 sometimes religious, religion is sometimes theolog- 
 ical ; and both may harbor in the same breast. 
 
 Never was this fact more strikingly illustrated 
 than in the life of Paul. He was, so to speak, a 
 man within a man. Like a knight of olden time, 
 clad in unyielding harness of iron dogma, lance in 
 hand, he charged upon the foe, and meted out 
 destruction at every thrust. But once penetrate 
 beneath that forbidding exterior, and you found the 
 warm heart of the man afire with love, and thrilled 
 with human sympathy. Paul, the Jew-Christian, as 
 the apostle of the Jewish " Messiah," or " Christ," 
 was a politician, active, keen, vindictive, even un- 
 scrupulous in the attainment of his ends. Paul, the 
 disciple of Jesus, was gentle, mild, loving, and for- 
 giving, possessing a wealth of love sufificient to 
 dower a universe. All men are paradoxical, but 
 Paul is the great paradox of history. All men are 
 contradictory, but never did another so antagonize 
 himself as did this man. 
 
 He was bred a Jew, and, as such, believed in the 
 " Messiah," or " Christ," whom the prophets had 
 foretold should some day restore Israel and crush 
 her foes. From the floating traditions which he 
 gathered concerning Jesus, he made up his mind 
 that he had been " the Christ," that his death had 
 been but temporary, and that he would soon return 
 in triumph to establish his kingdom. Thus he wrote 
 to the church at Thessalonica : " The Lord himself 
 shall descend from heaven, with a shout, with the 
 voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God : 
 
Paul's theology of " christ " 169 
 
 and the dead in Christ shall rise first : then we that 
 are alive, that are left, shall together with them be 
 caught up in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air." 
 
 But Paul had too much common sense to believe 
 that God would allow " the Christ " to suffer even 
 temporary death without an object. Therefore it was 
 that he enlarged the Jewish idea of sacrifice and blood- 
 atonement, as expressed in the yearly offerings of 
 animals at the temple, into a still grander sacrifice, — 
 the sacrifice of a divine being for the sin of a world. 
 He believed in the story of Eden and the fall of 
 man, and argued, " As in Adam all die, so also in 
 Christ shall all be made alive." Yet this idea was 
 in no sense original with him. The legend of He- 
 brew Genesis is common to all Oriental literatures, 
 with slight variations. Paul's theory of the incar- 
 nation is found in all the earlier systems of theology, 
 nearly identical in form. It is a plausible way of 
 accounting for the evil everywhere apparent in life, 
 and of providing an escape therefrom, without im- 
 peachment either of God's justice or his mercy. 
 It is plausible, but not logical. It assumes a perfect 
 creation and subsequent decline, whereas the course 
 of history shows a steady growth of the race in all 
 noble qualities. It makes one individual suffer for 
 the sins of another, while common sense pronounces 
 this wholly unjust, and unworthy the legislation of 
 a just God. 
 
 Paul, with preconceived ideas, made out an appar- 
 ently strong case in consonance with those ideas. 
 But his preconceptions fettered his judgment : his 
 
170 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 Strength is but seeming, his positions are wholly 
 untenable. His apparently solid walls melt into 
 mist, and fade away before the rising sun of free 
 inquiry. The system of theology he advanced, and 
 "the Christ" he preached, are mere delusions. 
 They are but odorless artificials of theologic specu- 
 lation, not fragrant flowers of true religion. 
 
 Thus it is that the history of Christianity discloses 
 the strange contradiction of incessant warfare be- 
 tween the religion of its accredited founder and the 
 theology of its chief apostle. The fact is, Paul was 
 the real founder of Christianity. Jesus was not a 
 Christian, and would have repudiated the title with 
 scorn, as unworthy. He was no mere theologian, 
 formulating creeds and evolving systems. He taught 
 natural religion. Love, he recognized as the divine 
 power ; love was the shibboleth of his fraternity,— 
 love to God and love to men. 
 
 On this simple religion of love, taught by Jesus, 
 Paul grafted an elaborate system of theology, which, 
 under management of the Christian Church, nearly 
 strangled the original stock, and for many centuries 
 made that a burden to mankind which should have 
 proved a help. To insure the perpetuation and 
 observance of this system, he pronounced a curse : 
 " If any man preach any other gospel unto you 
 than that ye have received, let him be accursed." 
 His successors emphasized the system, and, so far 
 as lay in their power, enforced the curse. In prac- 
 tical application, all systems of theology are simply 
 phases of politics, and theologians frequently de- 
 
Paul's theology of "christ" 171 
 
 scend to methods quite as contemptible as those of 
 ordinary politicians. Thus (according to Dean Mil- 
 man), the early Christian councils were riotous and 
 disgraceful as the lowest ward-meetings of our day. 
 Assassinations were frequent, and corruption quite 
 the rule. In like spirit, Cyril, bishop of Alexandria 
 in the fifth century, incited his adherents to the 
 murder of Hypatia, whose arguments he could not 
 answer. They dragged her from her chariot, and 
 butchered her with a ferocity which forbids detail ; 
 yet her murderer's name stands to-day emblazoned 
 upon Christian calendars as " Saint " Cyril of Alex- 
 andria. And why not a " Saint " .' His victim had 
 youth, beauty, grace, virtue, intellect, learning, elo- 
 quence, — a rare combination of gifts and acquire- 
 ments which called eager thousands daily to her 
 lectures, and made her the centre of attraction in 
 that centre of Greek culture. But she was a pagan, 
 a Platonist : she denied that Jesus was more than 
 man; she denied that Cyril, as his successor, was 
 vicegerent of God on earth ; she denied the author- 
 ity of that tremendous political machine, the Chris- 
 tian Church, just rising into power ; and therefore 
 it was that she fell, a victim to Christian violence. 
 Tell me, by whose spirit was this " Saint " Cyril 
 inspired to commit that awful crime .' Was it by 
 that of the man Jesus, the apostle of love, the 
 prophet of natural religion.' or was it by that of 
 Paul, the theologian, fierce and intolerant, the fanat- 
 ical preacher of a mythical " Christ " ? 
 
 The crusades of the Middle Ages to recover Pal- 
 
172 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 estine from the Mohammedans were termed " relig- 
 ious " wars. Were they in fact so ? If Jesus is 
 the acknowledged representative of religion, and his 
 teaching the test thereof, can any war be rightly 
 termed "a religious war"? He taught absolute 
 non-resistance : " I say unto you. Resist not him that 
 is evil : but whosoever smiteth thee on thy right 
 cheek, turn to him the other also. And if any man 
 would go to law with thee, and take away thy coat, 
 let him have thy cloke also." " All they that take 
 the sword shall perish with the sword." And, while 
 human experience has proved this philosophy false 
 to our present stage of progress, we still recognize 
 therein an underlying truth. We see that, on the 
 whole, Jesus was right. Sometime his ideal dream 
 of perfect peace will be realized, but not yet. Lit- 
 erally taken and followed to-day, these precepts 
 would perpetuate tyranny and promote crime. There 
 would have been no American Revolution and no 
 abolition of slavery; our lives and our properties 
 would be at the mercy of the criminal classes. 
 Therefore, common sense insists that we assert our 
 rights, if need be, with a strong hand; yet none the 
 less does the religious instinct whisper that the 
 ideal religious condition is a condition of absolute 
 peace. But, admitting that, in our present condition, 
 the camp and the forum are both necessary adjuncts 
 of civilization, we return to the question, Were the 
 crusades in fact " religious " wars ? and, to answer 
 this question rationally, we must know something of 
 their history. 
 
PAUL S THEOLOGY OF " CHRIST 1 73 
 
 From early times, a pilgrimage to Palestine was 
 considered, in Christian circles, a pious act, confer- 
 ring dignity and sanctity upon the pilgrim during 
 the remainder of his life, and insuring him the joys 
 of heaven at death. Therefore it was that, annually, 
 thousands of Europeans made the pilgrimage, suffer- 
 ing terrible hardships and dangers by the way. So 
 long as the Arabs held the country, the pilgrims 
 were hospitably treated ; but, under Egyptian rule, 
 their condition became less favorable, while the sub- 
 jugation of Palestine, in 1065 A.D., by the brutal 
 Seljuk Turks of the Caucasus, made it simply intol- 
 erable. The news of their atrocities spread through- 
 out Europe, and Peter the Hermit, a religious fanatic 
 of Amiens in France, travelled from town to town, 
 preaching a crusade against the infidels. His fiery 
 eloquence roused the people to enthusiasm. The 
 pope himself delivered an oration to a vast multi- 
 tude, in which he warmly seconded the appeal of 
 Peter. The result was that a vast and disorderly 
 crowd of the very dregs and refuse of Christendom, 
 badly provisioned and worse equipped, flocked to 
 the standard of the latter. They marched across 
 Europe in four hordes, committing the most horrible 
 ravages by the way ; and being, as they deserved, cut 
 to pieces by the several peoples they encountered, 
 only a remnant reached their destination, in a con- 
 dition of the most abject misery. 
 
 Soon after this, however, six magnificent armies, — 
 in all not less than six hundred thousand men, — 
 under command of several of the leading generals 
 
174 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 and princes of Europe, marched into Asia Minor. 
 After more than two years of almost constant fight- 
 ing, decimated by famine and disease, on July 15, 
 1099, the remnant of this host succeeded in captur- 
 ing Jerusalem and establishing the Christian power 
 in Palestine. For nearly fifty years this continued ; 
 and then, a portion of the country having been re- 
 conquered by the Moslems, a second crusade was 
 preached by St. Bernard. It is estimated that not 
 less than one million two hundred thousand fighting 
 men took part in this expedition ; but, owing to the 
 treachery of the Greek emperor, it proved a failure, 
 and only a mere remnant of that mighty host 
 escaped destruction and returned to Europe. 
 
 Then Saladin arose, invaded Palestine, and con- 
 quered Jerusalem. To withstand him, Frederick of 
 Germany, Philip of France, and Richard of Eng- 
 land took the field in person. They succeeded in 
 taking the fortified city of Acre, but Jerusalem 
 remained subject to the Mohammedans. Four other 
 crusades followed at intervals, but nothing of im- 
 portance resulted; and, in the year 1291, after nearly 
 two hundred years of unavailing warfare, Palestine 
 was abandoned by the Christians, and has ever since 
 remained a Turkish dependency. 
 
 In addition to these crusades proper, in the year 
 1212 a peasant boy of France began preaching a 
 crusade to boys only ; and such was the mad fanati- 
 cism of the time that an army of thirty thousand 
 children embarked at Marseilles, determined on the 
 conquest, spiritual and temporal, of the Holy Land. 
 
PAULS THEOLOGY OF "CHRIST 1 75 
 
 Two Other armies, of twenty thousand children each, 
 left Germany with the same object. As might have 
 been expected, all three expeditions proved utter 
 failures. Many of the children perished by ship- 
 wreck, famine, and disease, and most of the survi- 
 vors were captured by hostile nations, and sold into 
 slavery. 
 
 Now to the consideration of our question. Were 
 these crusades " religious " wars ? Were they under- 
 taken in the cause of religion and in the spirit of 
 Jesus, or were they not rather outbursts of theologic 
 intolerance, pervaded by the spirit, if indeed not 
 excited by the words, of Paul's malediction .■• Was 
 Peter the Hermit a disciple of Jesus or of Paul, 
 when preaching the crusades, and which of the two 
 did he most resemble ? 
 
 There can be but one answer to this question. 
 The pilgrims had no right in Palestine. If they 
 were ill-treated by the Turks who owned the country, 
 they could at any rate stay away. Might they not 
 practise the teachings of Jesus in Europe quite as 
 well as in Asia.' Then, what right had they to un- 
 dertake the conquest of the country ? Two centu- 
 ries were wasted in a vain struggle, millions of lives 
 were sacrificed, countless treasures expended, and 
 nothing gained. The enterprise throughout was the- 
 ological, not religious: it was suggested and main- 
 tained by selfish political ambition on the part of the 
 popes and leaders, and depended on the baser pas- 
 sions of the rank and file for its success. Yet, as 
 in the divine good providence "all things work to- 
 
176 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 gether for good," so this was no exception. Through 
 the crusades, a conjunction of peoples was effected, 
 which brought light to each. Here were two tre- 
 mendous civilizations, Christian and Mohammedan, 
 equally ignorant of each other, and equally bigoted. 
 Through prolonged conflict and association, they 
 learned each other's good qualities, and came to 
 respect each other. Thus, also, the laity of Europe 
 were educated, and the power of the Romish Church 
 undermined, paving the way for the Reformation, 
 which was virtually a protest of the religious in- 
 stinct against theologic abuse. But, while the Ref- 
 ormation modified the evil, it did not cure it. 
 Luther and Calvin were both theologians, and both 
 disciples of Paul. Calvin fled from France to Switz- 
 erland, to avoid persecution, and there persecuted 
 relentlessly all who differed from him in opinion, 
 burning the Unitarian Michael Servetus to death at 
 the stake. And, in doing this, he but followed out 
 the policy of intolerance which has ever marked 
 Christian theology, whether Protestant or Catholic, 
 from Paul down to the present time. The horrors 
 of St. Bartholomew's day in France, and of Mary's 
 reign in England, are at least approximated by the 
 persecutions of Catholics under Elizabeth, and of 
 Quakers and other non-conformists in later times. 
 But, whether Catholic or Protestant, Christian big- 
 otry and intolerance have ever found sufficient war- 
 rant for the persecution of theological opponents in 
 the curse pronounced by Paul : " If any man preach- 
 eth unto you any gospel other than that which ye 
 have received, let him be accursed." 
 
Paul's theology of "christ" 177 
 
 This branch of our subject may be summed up in 
 few words : Theology is the speculation of men con- 
 cerning the unknown and unknowable ; and, being 
 mere speculation, all theologies are equally worth- 
 less. In practical application, theology is simply a 
 phase of politics, founded in human selfishness, and 
 seeking to support a faction. Paul the theologian 
 was simply Paul the politician, and in this charac- 
 ter merits only our condemnation. For eighteen 
 centuries, his conception of the Jewish " Messiah," 
 or " Christ," has haunted the world like a phantom 
 of evil, breeding intolerance and hatred among men. 
 
 But, turning now from this unpleasant side of his 
 character and influence, I ask you to consider with 
 me Paul the man, the disciple of Jesus. And here 
 I would say that I never rise from reading the 
 letters of Paul without a fuller appreciation of that 
 sentiment expressed by Theodore Parker in his 
 sermon on " The Intellect and the Affections." He 
 says : " Were it offered me to choose between having 
 the grandest intellect this world has ever known, the 
 largest learning, the most matchless eloquence, the 
 power and dominion of an autocrat, — rather than 
 any of these, or all of them, I would choose the great 
 heart aflame with love for all created objects ; the 
 heart which knows no bound to its sympathies, but, 
 made for love, embraces all in love." 
 
 Penetrating beneath his theologic crust, such was 
 the heart of Paul. In the intensity and scope of 
 his love, he, above all others, was pre-eminently the 
 disciple and exponent of Jesus. For the religion of 
 
178 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 Jesus was the religion of love. He loved all men, 
 and by the cords of love drew all men unto him. 
 He saw suffering and sorrow upon every side, and 
 his heart was thrilled with sympathy for the suffer- 
 ing and the sorrowful. He looked upon the little 
 children, and he loved them and blessed them. He 
 loved the flowers, the birds, the trees ; and, recogniz- 
 ing in all things the oneness of life, he strove to 
 impress his disciples with the same divine thought. 
 But none of his immediate followers seem to have 
 understood him or caught his spirit as did this man 
 Paul, who had never seen him, and knew of him only 
 by hearsay. Along with that spirit of Jesus, he 
 retained many wild and fanciful notions, many crudi- 
 ties and superstitions from his early Hebrew train- 
 ing. These incongruous elements he strove con- 
 stantly to harmonize, and hence the contradictions 
 apparent in his teachings ; but, throughout all, we 
 find the spirit of Jesus warming his soul with its 
 wealth of sympathy. That spirit rested upon him 
 as, in the old legend, the mantle of Elijah is said to 
 have fallen upon the shoulders of Elisha. Upon 
 the shining lake of Paul's imagination, the spirit of 
 Jesus fell as falls the pebble ; and the ripples of his 
 sympathy spread ^nd widened until they embraced a 
 world. Thus it was he could not rest satisfied that 
 Jews only should be partakers of the kingdom soon 
 to be established : he insisted that Gentiles also 
 should be free partakers. And when James, Peter, 
 and the other zealots at Jerusalem insisted on ob- 
 servance of the Jewish ceremonial law, he answered 
 
PAULS THEOLOGY OF "CHRIST I/Q 
 
 them in the broad spirit of Jesus : " He that loveth 
 his neighbor hath fulfilled the law." " There is no dis- 
 tinction between Jew and Greek : for the same Lord 
 is Lord of all, and is rich unto all that call upon him." 
 
 Like many another of our day, the man was 
 larger than his philosophy. His great human heart 
 was bound in iron bands of dogma ; but, expanded 
 by love, it constantly burst its fetters. Thus it is 
 that Paul continually masquerades before us, a giant 
 attired in a boy's coat, through the rents of which 
 we catch frequent glimpses of the thews and sinews 
 of a grand humanity. 
 
 Surely, by the faults and failures of our leaders we 
 should learn, as well as by their virtues and successes. 
 And this, I think, is the lesson of Paul's life to us. 
 The little rill of love that rises in every heart has 
 infinitude for its source : it comes from God. Being 
 infinite, it cannot be bound with bands or limited by 
 creeds. Its mission is to spread abroad over the 
 parched and weary earth, and cause the desert to 
 blossom as the rose. It is the still water that stag- 
 nates, not the laughing, rippling brook which goes 
 leaping down the mountain side to spend its fresh- 
 ness upon all who need. 
 
 " 'Tis when the rose is wrapped in many a fold, 
 Close to its heart the worm lies, wasting there its life and 
 beauty." 
 
 You remember Coleridge's " Rime of the Ancient 
 Mariner," — how the sailor, with his cross-bow, shot 
 the unoffending Albatross, thus violating the law of 
 
l80 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 universal love, and so brought destruction upon the 
 ship. His comrades tied the dead body of the bird 
 about his neck ; and there it hung like lead, weighing 
 him down, while he, rebellious, repented not of the 
 deed. But at last, after long days and nights of 
 suffering, becalmed in the Tropics, he saw the water- 
 snakes, in many a gay color, swim about the ship : — 
 
 " Within the shadow of the ship 
 I watched their rich attire : 
 Blue, glossy green, and velvet black, 
 They coiled and swam ; and every track 
 Was a flash of golden fire. 
 
 " O happy living things ! no tongue 
 Their beauty might declare : 
 A spring of love gushed from my heart, 
 And I blessed them unaware ! 
 Sure my kind saint took pity on me, 
 And I blessed them unaware ! " 
 
 In the might of that newly awakened love, the 
 Albatross fell from his neck, and sank into the sea ; 
 the evil spirits lost their power to harm him, and the 
 ship was driven homeward. The lesson of the 
 poem is in its closing stanzas : — 
 
 " Farewell, farewell ! but this I tell 
 To thee, thou Wedding-Guest ! 
 He prayeth well who loveth well 
 Both man and bird and beast. 
 
 " He prayeth best, who loveth best 
 All things both great and small ; 
 For the dear God who loveth us, 
 He made and loveth all." 
 
Paul's theology of "christ" i8i 
 
 And now we close our service, and part for a little 
 time. With what better message can I take leave 
 of you than the message of love spoken by Jesus, 
 iterated by Paul, and reiterated by the English poet ? 
 The doors of this church will be shut, but the 
 doors of God's church stand ever open. The pulpit 
 will be empty to-morrow, and no voice of earthly 
 preacher will lead you in praise and prayer ; but the 
 pulpit of God is the blue arch of heaven, and his 
 voice is never silent. In bird and tree and flower, 
 in waving grass and ripening grain, in whispering 
 zephyrs through the leaves, in rains and dews and 
 mists, and in a myriad glittering worlds o'erhead, 
 each dowered like this, God himself shall preach to 
 you, and waft his message of love to every heart. 
 You shall find 
 
 " Tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, 
 Sermons in stones, and good in everything." 
 
 And in the presence of that divine beauty spread 
 all abroad, perceiving in all that oneness of life 
 which makes us one with all and one with Him, shall 
 not our hearts respond with the prayer of love, re- 
 membering, — 
 
 " He prayeth best, who loveth best 
 All things both great and small ; 
 For the dear God who loveth us, 
 He made and loveth all "? 
 
SUCCESS. 
 
 " What is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and 
 lose his own soul ? " — Matt, xvi., 26. 
 
 "There is nothing so successful as success." 
 Such was Napoleon's celebrated dictum; but was 
 he successful ? Of obscure birth, by force of will he 
 overcame all obstacles, and rose to be emperor of a 
 mighty nation, and conqueror of the world. He 
 made and unmade kings. The nations trembled at 
 his frown. His path of progress was a path of woe. 
 He piled hecatomb upon hecatomb. The earth was 
 steeped in blood, and the rivers "thereof ran tears. 
 He was merciless and pitiless to friend and foe alike. 
 He prated of patriotism, but the noble rage of the 
 patriot was to him a thing unknown. His cry was 
 " France ! " but his thought was self. Swollen with 
 ambition, puffed up with pride, a very incarnation of 
 evil, for a brief space he bestrode the earth like a 
 Colossus, — then fell, and grovelled, and died so 
 meanly that there were none so mean as to do him 
 reverence. Was this success, — to be a king of 
 kings, and a slave to ambition ; to mount like 
 Lucifer to the zenith, and to fall like him to the 
 pit ; to live the life of a tiger, and die the death of 
 a dog .■• 
 
SUCCESS 183 
 
 Under the gilded dome of Les Invalides, I stood 
 above the tomb of this butcher of Europe, and read 
 upon its portal these words, traced by his dying 
 hand: "I desire that my remains may repose on 
 the banks of the Seine, among the French people 
 whom I have loved so well." 
 
 " Whom I have loved so well ! " Oh, petty and false 
 even in death ! His latest breath a lie ! Who poured 
 the blood of France like water to glut his selfish 
 ambition, , now to prate of his love for the French 
 people ! Surely, a fitting climax to an ignoble career. 
 Rest in thy gilded infamy. As thy life was dishon- 
 orable and thy death despicable, so is thy grave 
 contemptible. Ay, "What is a man profited, if he 
 gain the whole world, and lose his own soul ? " 
 
 But not on the tented field alone is Fame pur- 
 sued by mad ambition. She dwells in cloisters, and 
 weaves in her tresses the live buds of peace. Once 
 she was taken by force, but now she is wooed with 
 subtlety. The pen avails where the sword fails. 
 The despised clerk of chivalry now leads the assault. 
 Belles-lettres are the modern implements of war, and 
 type-metal takes the place of lead. Among scholars, 
 let us take Lord Bacon, and consider if his career, 
 brilliant as it was, merits the verdict of "success." 
 
 Endowed by nature with an extraordinary intel- 
 lect, born to wealth and position, his natural gifts 
 fostered and advanced by careful education, — he 
 became the greatest philosopher of Europe, and his 
 words are household oracles to this day. Yet, so 
 little was he in soul that, sitting as Lord High 
 
184 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 Chancellor of England, he accepted bribes, sold 
 justice, and died in disgrace. Well might the poet 
 Pope write, — 
 
 " If parts allure thee, think how Bacon shined, 
 The wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind ! " 
 
 To acquire wealth — is this success ? Judging by 
 the mad clamor therefor, and the eager rush of the 
 multitudes, the mass of mankind must consider 
 money the supreme good. Let us take a repre- 
 sentative life here, also, — the life of the miser, 
 whose God is gold, — and apply the test. 
 
 It has become proverbial that he who saves 
 rather than he who makes becomes wealthy. The 
 secret of wealth is, " Get all you can, and keep all 
 you get." This is the miser's maxim. He hoards 
 and he pinches. He goes without fire, he lives on 
 a crust, and he dresses in rags, that he may add 
 one more coin to his store. He trembles at every 
 sound, and dies daily a thousand deaths, in fear of 
 robbery. His gold is his only joy, and that joy is 
 his bane. His heart is steeled against love, ten- 
 derness, and compassion ; for the exercise of these 
 would deplete his treasury. So, he lives solitary and 
 alone; as the opprobrious title of miser implies, 
 utterly, hopelessly miserable. Alas ! how sad it is 
 to think that the expansion of a bank account so 
 frequently gauges exactly the contraction of a soul. 
 And so he dies, — dies clutching at the gold which 
 slips from his stiffening grasp; dies, and leaves 
 that paltry treasure for which he has bartered every 
 
SUCCESS 185 
 
 joy here, every hope hereafter ; leaves it to be 
 squandered by those who cared nothing for him, and 
 for whom he cared not. Is such a life successful ? 
 Though he has attained the wealth of Croesus, 
 I think you will agree with me that it is not ; for 
 " what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole 
 world, and lose his own soul ? " 
 
 " Ah," cries the voluptuary, " you are right ! 
 Power, fame, wealth, are but bubbles. Effort 
 results only in friction. ' Much study is a weariness 
 of the flesh.' 'Vanity of vanities, all is vanity.' 
 Pleasure is the only good. ' Let us eat and drink ; 
 for to-morrow we die.' " 
 
 Such is the Epicurean philosophy which accords 
 well with man's natural indolence and love of 
 pleasure. But is a life of selfish ease a successful 
 life ? Let us see. 
 
 The sensualist virtually abdicates his manhood, 
 and becomes a beast ; for every sensual appetite is 
 common to the beast and man. He eats the dain- 
 tiest food, and drinks the richest wines, and gives 
 free rein to his passions. He pampers his body, but 
 he starves his soul. And, when the hour of death 
 draws nigh, what has he to show as the result of 
 life.' A body prematurely drained of its physical 
 strength ; a mind debilitated through excesses ; 
 a soul dwarfed, defrauded, debauched. Is this suc- 
 cess .' He has lived a life of pleasure, he says ; 
 but where is the ultimate gain.' "What is a man 
 profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose 
 his own soul ? " 
 
I 86 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 Power, fame, wealth, pleasure, — these are the 
 baubles for which men spend their lives. He is 
 pronounced successful who attains to them, and he 
 unsuccessful who has them not. Yet that judgment 
 is false ; all these may unite in a single life, and 
 yet that life be a failure. We need not leave our own 
 country or our own time for such an example. We 
 are all familiar with the career of a man who suc- 
 ceeded in youth to a position of tremendous power, 
 and practically unlimited wealth, as proprietor of the 
 leading American newspaper. That power and that 
 wealth he has devoted to winning for himself fame 
 and pleasure. His name is familiar to every ear the 
 world over. There is no dissipation that he has not 
 sounded to the depths. Yet I doubt if James 
 Gordon Bennett is a happy man. Do power, and 
 wealth, and notoriety, and dissipation fill the yearn- 
 ings of his heart .' Does he feel that his life thus 
 far has been a^ success .' I doubt it ; for the human 
 heart demands something more than this, and con- 
 science continually questions, " What is a man prof- 
 ited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his 
 own soul .' " 
 
 If the possession of these things does not neces- 
 sarily imply success, then the non-possession of 
 them does not necessarily imply failure. It was 
 wittily remarked in one of our city journals, some 
 years ago, that, while Emerson the philosopher made 
 only twenty-five dollars a week with his head, his 
 namesake, Emerson the negro minstrel, made twenty- 
 five hundred dollars a week with his heels. Yet 
 
SUCCESS 187 
 
 who shall say that the clog-dancer was more success- 
 ful than the philosopher ? Which, think you, was 
 the more successful, — Jesus the wanderer, who had 
 not where to lay his head, forsaken by his followers, 
 scourged and crucified ; or imperial Caesar, clothed 
 in purple, emperor of the world ? The whole ques- 
 tion turns upon this. What constitutes success ? 
 But, in order to answer this question, we must first 
 decide for what purpose were we created. In the 
 divine intention, what is the object of human life? 
 
 We are all agreed that man is immortal, for on no 
 other hypothesis can the seeming inconsistencies of 
 life be harmonized : — 
 
 " 'Tis not the whole of life to live : 
 Nor all of death to die." 
 
 If, then, eternity is ours, all our theories of life 
 here must be based upon the relation of this life 
 to that greater life beyond. Then, only that is 
 success here which is success there. Power we 
 leave behind us ; wealth we cannot carry ; fame 
 is silent in the tomb ; pleasure avails not in the 
 courts of death. What acquisition, then, has life 
 to offer by which the soul shall be permanently 
 enriched ? Of what superscription is the coin 
 current of the grave.' 
 
 As the soul is immaterial, so the wealth it bears 
 must be immaterial. All the holy emotions upon 
 which it feeds, — friendship, love, purity, truth, and 
 the like, — these are its gain here, its treasure 
 beyond. All that tends in this life to ennoble. 
 
1 88 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 develop, and strengthen the soul, fitting it for 
 that life beyond, is so much real gain, and the 
 only real gain. This, I think, is what Jesus meant 
 when he said, " Lay not up for yourselves treas- 
 ures upon the earth, where moth and rust doth 
 consume, and where thieves break through and 
 steal : but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, 
 where neither moth nor rust doth consume, and 
 where thieves do not break through nor steal." 
 
 And yet, you will say, it were not well to wholly 
 despise the prizes of this world. Power is good, 
 if rightly used. Fame may be honestly won, and 
 worthily worn. Money is an absolute need to pro- 
 vide food, and shelter, and covering, and a thousand 
 necessaries of life. Though "man shall not live 
 by bread alone," yet he must have bread. 
 
 This is true ; and far be it from me to decry any 
 honorable effort for worldly advancement ; far be 
 it from me to depreciate these things. They are all 
 good in their place. I only argue that, in themselves, 
 they do not and cannot constitute success. They 
 may be, and often are, valuable adjuncts to success. 
 The powerful, the famous, the wealthy, the lovers of 
 pleasure, frequently are successful; but this is not 
 because of these things, but in addition thereto. 
 They are successful because, while not despising the 
 prizes of earth, they are not wholly bound by them ; 
 but, aspiring upward, they seek and win also the 
 higher prizes of the soul. I firmly believe, with 
 James, that "every good gift and every perfect boon 
 is from above, coming down from the Father of 
 
SUCCESS 189 
 
 lights." It is not that these things are evil in them- 
 selves, but that we make an evil use of them. We 
 are but stewards of God's bounty. Everything we 
 have is a trust for which we are accountable. Alas ! 
 too often we forget this, and, like Israel in the desert, 
 we suffer our selfish greed to slay us with the good 
 gifts he sends. 
 
 To sum up the whole matter, I consider that 
 true success in life does not depend upon so-called 
 worldly success. The question is not, " How are 
 you getting on ; what is your worldly position and 
 worldly fortune .' " but, " Are you developing your 
 soul .' Are you day by day growing nobler, purer, 
 truer, and more helpful to your fellow-men ? Are 
 you laying up treasures in heaven, and storing 
 wealth against your passage there? Is the fame 
 of your good deeds known to the angels, and do 
 the saints tell of your charities done in secret ? " If 
 this is so, then are you truly successful, though in 
 life you be pinched with hunger and clothed in rags. 
 But if it is not, though you have the power of an 
 autocrat, the wealth of the Indies ; though your 
 name be emblazoned on the scrolls of fame, and 
 every pleasure of the world be yours, — yet are your 
 gains a delusion, and your life a failure. " What is 
 a man profited, if he ishall gain the whole world, 
 and lose his own soul .' " 
 
SPECIAL JUDGMENTS AND SPECIAL 
 PROVIDENCES. 
 
 " Or those eighteen, upon whom the tower in Siloam fell, and 
 killed them, think ye that they were offenders above all the men that 
 dwell in Jerusalem ? I tell you. Nay : but, except ye repent, ye shall 
 all likewise perish." — Luke xiii., 4, 5. 
 
 Not long ago, at Ischia, a small island in the Bay 
 of Naples, a vast multitude were assembled one 
 evening in the theatre, witnessing a play, when a 
 violent earthquake demolished the building, and 
 three thousand persons perished. A week or so 
 later, at Rochester, Minn., a cyclone destroyed the 
 town, in ten minutes wrecking the results of many 
 years' labor, mangling and crushing to death a 
 large number of the inhabitants. 
 
 These are but examples of occurrences constantly 
 happening in the world. Hardly a day passes but 
 the newspapers chronicle fearful disasters to life and 
 property through agencies other than human. The 
 earth opens her mouth to engulf, the tempest devas- 
 tates, the lightning strikes, epidemics ravage; and 
 man is the victim. 
 
 In civilized communities, the custom prevails, when 
 human life is sacrificed by violence, to impanel a 
 jury, and endeavor to discover, first, the perpetrator 
 
SPECIAL JUDGMENTS AND PROVIDENCES I9I 
 
 of such violence, and, second, the reason thereof; 
 namely, whether it is the result of wilful malice or 
 unavoidable accident. And we, assembled here 
 to-day, sit in this capacity of jurors, holding an in- 
 quest upon the bodies of these our fellows, destroyed 
 by violence ; and our right and our duty is to ques- 
 tion by whom or by what power they were destroyed, 
 and, if blame attaches, to denounce the guilty with- 
 out fear and without favor. 
 
 We are agreed that, in both the cases cited, the 
 victims perished through agencies other than human, 
 and, therefore, that no human being is to blame. 
 We are agreed, further, that the agents of destruc- 
 tion were what are commonly termed natural forces, 
 or forces of nature. Thus we know by observation 
 that this earth upon which we live is a ball of fire, 
 slightly cooled, and crusted over upon the surface, 
 but so slightly that the seething flames beneath may 
 at any moment, and do frequently, burst forth ; that, 
 in vast depressions upon this cooled surface, vapors 
 have condensed to form oceans of water ; that water, 
 coming, in contact with fire, is again resolved into 
 vapor or steam ; that such steam is expansive, and 
 seeks an outlet, possessing force to a degree prac- 
 tically irresistible. If, then, the waters of ocean 
 should find a vent, and come in contact with the 
 subterranean fires, steam must be generated by such 
 contact . and conflict of the elements ; and this, 
 through expansive force, seeking an outlet, will con- 
 vulse the crust of the earth, rupture it, and cause 
 what is known as an earthquake. This is what 
 
192 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 probably occurred at Ischia ; and hence the fall of 
 the theatre and the resultant loss of life. 
 
 Again, the atmosphere which we breathe, and 
 upon which all life depends, is an invisible envelope 
 of elastic, ponderable fluid, completely surrounding 
 the earth, most dense at its surface, and growing 
 gradually rarer as it recedes. This fluid has been 
 analyzed, and consists, as is well known, of two 
 gases, oxygen and nitrogen, in the proportions, 
 roughly speaking, of one-fifth oxygen and four-fifths 
 nitrogen. This fluid, being elastic, naturally seeks 
 a vacuum, and rushes thereto with irresistible force. 
 Thus if, through contraction of cold or any other 
 cause, a vacuum occurs in any quarter of the 
 atmospheric belt, the air from other quarters 
 rushes at once to fill that vacuum and restore 
 the equilibrium. The greater the emergency, the 
 greater the speed. Hence, the gentle zephyr which 
 fans your cheek ; hence, the trade-wind which 
 brings the good ship merrily homeward; hence, 
 the dreadful cyclone, which mows the forest like 
 a swath, which levels towns, and maims and kills 
 the terror-stricken inhabitants. 
 
 Thus it will be seen, first, that these effects spring 
 from natural causes ; second, that they are not the 
 result of special legislation, but of primary laws. 
 
 For example, earthquakes occur where no inhab- 
 itants exist; cyclones spend their rage on forest 
 and prairie far from human habitation. Then, surely, 
 it is reasonable to suppose that the late earthquake 
 at Ischia would have occurred just the same, had no 
 
SPECIAL JUDGMENTS AND PROVIDENCES I93 
 
 town occupied the island, and had no multitude been 
 assembled in the public theatre ; that the cyclone in 
 Minnesota would have occurred just the same if 
 Rochester had never been built. Neither earth- 
 quake nor cyclone went out of its way to destroy 
 property or life, neither did it vary from its course 
 to avoid such destruction. The lightning flash 
 which recently killed a young man in a neighboring 
 town, sleeping peacefully in his bed, was hardly 
 aimed at him by some superior power, as a hunter 
 aims a shaft at bird on roost or rabbit in her lair. 
 The bolt obeyed a fixed law, and, controlled by cir- 
 cumstances, would have struck, though the house 
 had been tenantless. Had the electric fluid found a 
 conductor to the ground, such as a lightning-rod, or 
 even a metal spout, it would, through an inherent 
 law, have followed such conductor, have expended 
 its force in the earth, and the young man would 
 to-day, in all human probability, be alive and well. 
 
 I know that this line of argument is opposed to 
 all the theories of orthodox belief. That belief 
 teaches that a Supreme Power, all-wise and all-good, 
 holds the winds and the waves, the earthquakes and 
 the lightnings, in the hollow of his hand, and arbi- 
 trarily directs their force to heal or to destroy, at 
 his good pleasure. But, if the weight of evidence 
 proved this to be the fact, — which it does not, — then, 
 in view of the constant afflictions showered upon 
 mankind, the wanton destruction of life and property, 
 entailing sorrow and suffering unspeakable upon 
 those left behind, there would be but one possible 
 
194 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 conclusion at which we could arrive, and that would 
 be that we are governed by a malignant devil who 
 delights in torturing us, and not by a beneficent God 
 who seeks our welfare. This is the necessary out- 
 come of the orthodox doctrine of special judgments 
 and special providences ; and, granting the premises, 
 there is no escaping the conclusion. 
 
 But, as I have said, the evidence is all the other 
 way. Even our orthodox friends must admit that 
 there have been a thousand harmless earthquakes 
 to one that did damage; ten thousand cyclones on 
 vacant sea or prairie to one in a populous district ; 
 ten million innocent lightning flashes to one that 
 took a life. And what does all this prove .? One of 
 two things; namely, either that special judgment is 
 a myth, and fixed law the only law, or else that the 
 efforts of a malignant power to injure us are usually 
 vain. 
 
 But, assuming that these unfortunate occurrences 
 are not the result of any special legislation on the 
 part of a Superior Power, evil or good, but are, on 
 the contrary, simply accidents in the working of a 
 tremendous and complicated machine, the question 
 arises. How far is the inventor and conductor of 
 such machine liable for these accidents .? Are they 
 practically unavoidable .' Is this universe arranged 
 and conducted on the best possible plan .' Is its 
 control absolute, or only limited .-' 
 
 To answer these questions fully and satisfactorily, 
 we must be possessed of knowledge transcending 
 the human. But, granting this, we, the governed — 
 
SPECIAL JUDGMENTS AND PROVIDENCES IQS 
 
 noting the apparent inaccuracies of government, 
 and suffering therefrom — have every moral right to 
 question and theorize both as to the nature of that 
 government and its application. Notwithstanding 
 the protest of timid minds, thinkers of all ages have 
 so questioned and theorized, and have arrived at 
 many answers, all different ; and hence the variety of 
 sects, which are not in any case founded upon facts, 
 but upon the opinion which some man has had con- 
 cerning supposed facts. Thus, Calvin worshipped a 
 hideous devil under the name of God. But this devil 
 was not a fact, — it was only the chimera of his dis- 
 ordered brain ; and his followers perpetuate the same 
 fanciful worship. We claim the same right which 
 he exercised, of forming our own conclusions upon 
 the evidence. Each must do this for himself. Your 
 conclusion is not binding upon me, nor is my conclu- 
 sion binding upon you ; but it is well to be able to 
 give a reason why we think so and so. Therefore, 
 in the matter before us, I propose to tell you, not 
 what I know to be so, but what I think to be so, and 
 why I think it. If this agrees with your own 
 opinion, you will accept it ; if not, you will reject 
 it, giving yourself reasons why you reject it. In 
 any case, it is but a theory, for we can only theorize 
 about matters which are beyond our limit of knowl- 
 edge. 
 
 In view of the conditions observable here on earth, 
 I find but four theories of God and the universe 
 worthy of serious consideration. They are these : — 
 
 First, that there is no God ; that this universe is 
 
196 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 evolved out of chaos in obedience to blind, inherent 
 law. (This is atheistic materialism.) 
 
 Second, that God exists, and is all-powerful ; but 
 he is not all-good. He is fickle and changeable, a 
 compound of good and evil, or God and devil. 
 (This corresponds to the Jehovah worship of ancient 
 Israel.) 
 
 Third, that God exists, and is all-powerful, all- 
 wise, and all-good. The inconsistencies of the uni- 
 verse are but apparent. All seeming discords are 
 but parts of a divine harmony. (This is the modern 
 orthodox Christian position.) 
 
 Fourth, that God exists, and is all-good, but is not 
 all-powerful. He is subject to law, and is bound by 
 law. (This states the tendency of modern radical 
 thought.) 
 
 Now, treating these four theories in their order, I 
 find the first — that there is no God — plausible ; for, 
 by this means, much that is strange and inconsistent 
 on the face in our government is accounted for. If 
 we are but fortuitous germs hatched into life by the 
 heat of the sun, then the accident of our death is 
 no more remarkable than the accident of our life. 
 
 But, on the other hand, I find opposed to this 
 theory the evident design everywhere apparent in 
 nature. The adaptability of parts to powers, of 
 individual to individual, and of each to its environ- 
 ment. How could blind chance evolve the delicate 
 mechanism of an eye, and harmonize the prevailing 
 colors of nature thereto ? How could unreasoning 
 law evolve the wondrous system of floral fertiliza- 
 
SPECIAL JUDGMENTS AND PROVIDENCES I97 
 
 tion, and teach the bee and humming-bird to bear 
 the life-giving pollen to distant plants ? If the ma- 
 terialist says that it is hard to believe in. a God, I 
 answer that it is harder yet not to believe in a God. 
 Unbelief is the most credulous of all beliefs. 
 
 The second theory, — that God is all-powerful, but 
 not all-good, — I do not believe, since, to my mind, the 
 evidences of his goodness so far outweigh and over- 
 balance the possible evidences of his evil nature. 
 The earthquake, the cyclone, and the lightning are, 
 as we have seen, but manifestations of natural 
 powers which usually work to the advantage of man, 
 and only occasionally to his destruction. Because 
 one year of famine occurs, shall man impeach the 
 goodness of God, while the unfailing harvests of a 
 thousand years cry shame on his ingratitude .' 
 
 The third theory, — that God is all-powerful, all- 
 wise, and all-good, and that seeming evil is only 
 apparent, not real, — while appealing to my sympa- 
 thies, seems equally untenable to my reason. The 
 evils of life are real. It was a real evil that those 
 three thousand unfortunates were crushed to death at 
 Ischia, leaving a countless train of parents, wives, 
 husbands, and little children, to mourn the loss of 
 their dear ones. It was a real evil that the fair town 
 of Rochester should be swept away, and her inhab- 
 itants destroyed, or rendered homeless. It was a 
 real evil that that young man should be slain in the 
 strength of his manhood, and the girl he loved be 
 made a widow before she was a bride. To say that 
 these are not evils is folly. They are real evils, and, 
 
1 98 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 humanly speaking, they are great evils. True, we 
 cannot see the whole circle : we can judge of good 
 and evil only within the scope of our horizon ; but 
 it is our right so to judge. Our scales may not be 
 balanced with divine nicety ; but, as balanced, they 
 declare such occurrences false coin, wholly at vari- 
 ance with the standard of justice and goodness. 
 Therefore, if God is all-powerful, and deviates but 
 one hair's breadth from the line of rectitude in his 
 dealings with men, then he is not all-good. 
 
 We come now to consider the fourth theory, — that 
 God is all-good, but not all-powerful ; that he is sub- 
 ject to law, and bound by law. That God is bound 
 by law is capable of proof. It is impossible for him 
 to annul his own act. More than this, it is impossi- 
 ble for him to annul the act of his meanest creature. 
 By a thunder-bolt, he might destroy this church and 
 every creature therein at this moment ; but he could 
 not annul the fact that we met here this morning, I 
 to speak, and you to hear. To all eternity, that fact 
 remains ; and God is powerless to remove it from the 
 record. He might have prevented it, but, once 
 having occurred, he cannot annul it. What does 
 this prove ? It proves simply that God is not all- 
 powerful; that he is bound by law, the law of the 
 fixity of past events. Then, if he is subject to and 
 bound by one law, why not to others .' He is in 
 fact so. He is bound by every proved proposition 
 of geometry. Two parallel straight lines, though 
 infinitely extended, will not meet, and God is power- 
 less to make them meet. The whole is equal to the 
 
SPECIAL JUDGMENTS AND PROVIDENCES I99 
 
 sum of its parts, and God cannot make it less or 
 more. 
 
 The conclusion is obvious : though law be a cre- 
 ation of God, thenceforth law is omnipotent, and 
 God is subject thereto as completely as is his mean- 
 est creature. It has been well said that "the un- 
 spoken word is my slave, but the spoken word is my 
 king." And so of God. The law which rests in the 
 divine consciousness only, unexpressed, is subject to 
 the divine will ; but, once promulgated, and stamped 
 upon the universe, God is the creature of his own 
 law, and must obey it. God never changeth. His 
 word abideth forever. 
 
 "Out of nothing, nothing comes." Out of matter, 
 the Supreme Intelligence created this universe ; and 
 it is fair to suppose that it is the best possible crea- 
 tion out of the material at hand. We know not 
 what faults or inherent vices of composition may 
 have existed in chaos ; we only know that the cosmos 
 is not perfect. When the Divine Mind surrounded 
 our globe with the atmospheric envelope, he made 
 this an agent of life, yet left therein a possibility of 
 death. When he gave water the power of expand- 
 ing into steam, thus to grind our bread and weave 
 our clothes, and bear us over land and sea, he made 
 possible also the earthquake at Ischia. When he 
 charged all nature with electricity, which carries our 
 messages with the speed of thought, and which some 
 claim is the long-sought principle of life, he freed 
 also a fearful agent of death. Why the bitter and 
 the sweet are thus mingled, we know not ; but is it 
 
200 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 not reasonable to suppose, the prevalent bent being 
 for good, that the Supreme Intelligence desires only 
 good to man, and, limited by law, works ever toward 
 the ultimate good? He does not interfere to pre- 
 vent the working of a law, for he cannot. Given 
 the necessary conditions, the earthquake engulfs, the 
 cyclone devastates, and the lightning kills remorse- 
 lessly. The evil and the good suffer the same fate. 
 No prayers can avert, no piety can save. But in 
 this very fixity of law, this very constancy of God, 
 lies our safety. There is no such thing as special 
 providence, but there is also no such thing as special 
 judgment. The parting of the Jordan by Moses, 
 and the slaying of the false priests by fire from 
 heaven, are equally fables. No hand is stretched 
 out to save Jesus, and none to punish Judas. 
 
 Yet, you will say, virtue is rewarded, and sin is 
 punished, even in this world. Yes, but through 
 fixed law, not by special legislation. Such reward 
 and punishment are effects directly subject to the 
 fixed law of cause and effect. If I sin, I suffer, and 
 my suffering is the direct effect of the sin ; and if 
 I do well, I am repaid by my conscience, which ap- 
 proves, and that approving conscience is the effect 
 of the righteous deed. But there is certainly no 
 such thing as compensation or punishment through 
 direct interposition of God. 
 
 I have chosen this subject for to-day because a 
 recent orthodox journal, commenting upon the catas- 
 trophe at Ischia, pronounced it a judgment of God 
 upon a sinful people. I count such a position simply 
 
SPECIAL JUDGMENTS AND PROVIDENCES 20I 
 
 blasphemous ; and, professing, as the writer does, to 
 be a follower of Jesus, I cannot see how he harmo- 
 nizes such position with the emphatic declaration 
 made by Jesus in our text : " Or those eighteen, 
 upon whom the tower in Siloam fell, and killed 
 them, think ye that they were offenders above all the 
 men that dwell in Jerusalem ? I tell you. Nay : but, 
 except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish." 
 
 We are wont to consider death, and especially 
 sudden death, as the greatest possible calamity ; yet 
 this is not probably the fact. We believe that we 
 are immortal. Then, rightly speaking, there is no 
 death. What we call so is but a turn of the kaleido- 
 scope. The death pang is probably no greater than 
 many a pain we daily suffer unflinchingly. It is but 
 a hedge that separates us from the life beyond. If 
 we go in at the gate, we suffer not at all; but, if 
 rudely driven through the brambles by some un- 
 toward occurrence, the thorns will annoy us in pass- 
 ing. But, however we pass that hedge, we can but 
 emerge into another phase of the life that we live 
 here, the eternal life ; and there, as here, we shall 
 dwell in God. 
 
THE LAW OF LIBERTY. 
 
 " So speak ye, and so do, as men that are to be judged by a law 
 of liberty." — James ii., 12. 
 
 Liberty is the word dearest to every American 
 heart. We are never weary of telling how our an- 
 cestors, centuries ago, dared the dangers of the 
 deep, landed on Plymouth Rock, founded this colony, 
 and endured hardships without end, — all for liberty ; 
 and again how their descendants, true to the tradi- 
 tion of their blood, unfurled the flag of revolution, 
 withstood oppression, and fought for liberty ; and 
 yet again how we, still later, affirmed the same grand 
 principle, and, with a prodigal expenditure of blood 
 and treasure, purchased for others that liberty which 
 our forefathers had won for us. Thus it is that to- 
 day only free men tread the soil of this " continent. 
 North, South, East, and West, look where you will, 
 slavery is dead, and all are free. 
 
 Moreover, ours is not only a freedom in name, but 
 a real freedom. We elect our own rulers, who are 
 in fact our servants, and we compel them to do our 
 bidding. We make our own laws, and we make them 
 wide enough so they shall not unduly hamper us. 
 Within the circle of those laws we roam at will, and, if 
 we so desire, at the ballot-box we may enlarge that 
 
THE LAW OF LIBERTY 203 
 
 circle. We have freedom of thought and freedom of 
 speech wholly unlimited, and a freedom of action, 
 also, bordering even upon license. So comprehen- 
 sive, indeed, is this freedom of ours, that the most 
 visionary republican of a century ago would have 
 pronounced the scheme thereof Utopian. Thus, it 
 was a. favorite saying at the court of George III. 
 that " the people are wholly incapable of self-govern- 
 ment." And the blue laws of New England attest 
 the fact that even the victorious revolutionists 
 believed liberty a dangerous article, liable to explode, 
 and therefore to be confined in narrow limits, and 
 bound with iron bands. 
 
 How could they think otherwise, when theology 
 had traced the generation of man back to the devil, 
 and found the race radically and hopelessly corrupt ? 
 But this view has been modified. We are persuaded 
 to-day that good, and not evil, is the fount of being ; 
 that God, and not the devil, breathed into the nos- 
 trils of primal man the breath of life. We believe 
 that the vital spark is a divine spark, which may 
 indeed be neglected, stifled, perhaps extinguished, 
 but is also capable of expansion and intensification 
 into the flame of a divine righteousness. This is 
 why collective man to-day trusts individual man 
 with so large a liberty of action. This is why the 
 blue laws have been repealed, and the fires of relig- 
 ious persecution extinguished. This is why you 
 and I are free to think and speak and act as we 
 will, provided only that we respect the same rights 
 in others ; for this is the sole limitation upon our 
 
204 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 liberty of action, and herein the law enforces only 
 what natural religion dictates. When Moses, three 
 thousand years ago, told the Hebrews, or the legis- 
 lature of Massachusetts to-day enacts, " Thou shalt 
 do no murder," "Thou shalt not steal," "Thou 
 shalt not commit adultery," "Thou shalt not bear 
 false witness against thy neighbor," — he and they 
 have but re-enacted the Golden Rule, which God 
 dictated to men on the morning of creation, " Do 
 as ye would be done by," which Golden Rule the 
 law-makers and sages of all times and countries 
 have ever since been repeating after him. 
 
 But our human laws are aimed only at gross 
 violations of this divine rule, and do not enter into 
 the subtle spirit thereof. Thus we may easily 
 comply with human law while transgressing divine 
 law. We may refrain from killing, yet, through 
 hatred of an enemy, before God be murderers. We 
 may avoid the penalty for theft, and yet, through 
 covetousness or fraud, be morally guilty of the 
 crime. The impure eye brands the soul, though the 
 life be outwardly correct. Though uncondemned 
 for perjury, a word, a gesture even, may wrongfully 
 defame our neighbor. 
 
 We find, therefore, two circles of law encompassing 
 us. The outer and larger is the human law, so large 
 and so loose that only the absolutely lawless need 
 care ever to pass its bound. The inner and smaller 
 is the divine law, so close and perfect in its adjust- 
 ment that ever the best of us are daily restrained 
 by it, or daily break through it. For this circle of 
 
THE LAW OF LIBERTY 205 
 
 divine law, which closes us in on every side, is frail 
 as gossamer; and there are no police to protect it, 
 no grand jury to indict for its violation, no State's 
 attorney to prosecute, no courts and no prisons to 
 enforce it. God is wholly without representation. 
 No man shall hinder us. If any expostulate, we 
 may tell him to mind his own affairs, we shall do as 
 we please. The divine law is but a cobweb, and we 
 may brush it aside at will. Yes, such is our liberty 
 of action. We are free to violate it at every point. 
 We may rend it into fragments and cast it from us 
 with contempt; and yet God is not mocked! Not 
 the smallest strand of that web is broken with im- 
 punity, that circle is not passed — no, not even by 
 a hair's breadth — without punishment. 
 
 Does any one dispute this, let him recall some 
 instance wherein he knowingly transgressed the 
 divine law. Any offence will answer the purpose of 
 illustration, and none of us need have far to look. It 
 may have been a falsehood wilfully told ; it may have 
 been a fraud committed in business ; it may have 
 been some other secret fault. But, whatever the 
 transgression, I ask, first, Were you not, in relation 
 thereto, a free agent, to act or to refrain at your 
 pleasure .' True, the temptation may have been 
 great, but could you not have resisted .' Had the act 
 been punishable by fine or imprisonment, and had 
 officers stood by ready to arrest you on the instant, 
 would you have done it.' I think you will agree 
 with me that you would not. But, in the case 
 before us, only God's law was violated, and only 
 
206 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 your own conscience witnessed the violation. It 
 seemed safe and pleasant so to do, and you followed 
 the bent of your inclination. There was no protest, 
 no interference oij behalf of a divine power. With 
 full liberty of action, you chose your course, and 
 acted without molestation. Now, I ask you, second. 
 Have you escaped punishment .' 
 
 I think there can be but one answer to this 
 question ; namely, that a heavy punishment has fol- 
 lowed the transgression. There has been a loss of 
 self-respect ; a consciousness of degradation, in that 
 you have fallen below your standard of manhood, 
 and have allowed brute impulse to triumph over 
 godlike reason, causing you to violate a law which 
 was not guarded, but left wholly to your honor for 
 observance. You have not since been able to look 
 your own soul in the face, and feel yourself quite as 
 good a man. 
 
 Then there has been the dread of discovery, the 
 fear that your fault might be detected, the forecast- 
 ing of shame which must follow such detection : to 
 be branded with dishonor by your acquaintances ; to 
 have men feel that they could not depend upon you ; 
 to know that the low and the vicious, whom you 
 despise, would claim you as one of themselves ; that 
 the high and noble must reject you as unworthy. 
 All this has been yours in thought, though no soul 
 has shared your secret. So your eye must waver, 
 your tongue falter, and your hand-clasp be less free 
 when greeting your friends on the street ; for " Con- 
 science doth make cowards of us all." 
 
THE LAW OF LIBERTY 20/ 
 
 Yet it is quite possible that you have felt none of 
 this : you may have done the wrong act as a matter 
 of course, and thought no more about it. But does 
 it follow from this that you have escaped punish- 
 ment ? I think not. Your insensibility betokens 
 rather a more dreadful punishment than any I have 
 indicated. The disease which exhibits itself in out- 
 ward eruption is the more easily detected, and there- 
 fore the more easily cured; but the disease which 
 attacks the vitals makes no outward sign, yet is 
 certain death. There are fearful maladies which so 
 saturate the system that no fresh exposure produces 
 an impression. So he who suffers no inconvenience 
 from the perpetration of a wrong act proves only 
 that he is morally corrupt. And I leave it to you, 
 What worse fate can happen to the body than that 
 it shall become vitiated by an incurable disease ? 
 What worse punishment can be meted out to the 
 soul than that it shall become chronically depraved ? 
 And, whether base or noble, beautiful or horrible, 
 the soul of each is his own creation. Minute by 
 minute, hour by hour, and day by day, through 
 thought and word and act, each moulds himself. 
 Then, is it not a solemn question for each of us. 
 Have I, in the past week, the past month, the past 
 year or ten years, lost or gained ground ? , 
 
 For as the body is never stationary, but with 
 every pulse changes some of its constituent par- 
 ticles, rejecting and replacing the worn-out atoms, 
 so the soul is not stationary, but constantly pro- 
 gresses or retrogrades upon the path of virtue. 
 
208 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 Thus it is that we hear so often questioned regarding 
 some acquaintance, " What is wrong with him ? He 
 does not look one in the eye, as formerly ; or, if he 
 does, his gaze has lost its wonted frankness of ex- 
 pression." 
 
 There is indeed something wrong with him. 
 Some secret sin is slowly but surely undermining his 
 moral constitution, and sapping his manhood. He 
 may hide it in his heart of hearts, but the tell-tale 
 blood will write it on his brow. He may brave the 
 opinion of men, and, like Hester Prynne upon the 
 scafEold, flaunt the token of shame as a badge of 
 victory ; but he cannot thereby daunt God, or escape 
 the lash of offended Justice ; for his own soul is the 
 avenger, and his own hands fashion the whips. 
 
 Therefore, my brothers, is not this text, written 
 so long ago, an apt injunction, which we will do well 
 to heed .' " So speak ye, and so do, as men that are 
 to be judged by a law of liberty." 
 
 Are we not indeed free .' Each one of us may, if 
 he choose, on leaving this church, plunge at once 
 into the vilest sin. Even now, the wrongful thought 
 may be sapping the energies of the soul. Before 
 the door is reached, a slanderous word may defame 
 your neighbor, but still more defame yourself. 
 Each is a sculptor, and his thought, his word, and 
 his act are the tools with which he works, constantly 
 modelling his own soul. That soul is yourself, your 
 undying self. It shall live when this body which 
 you so much prize has long been dissipated and 
 mingled with the elements. The sun shall fade 
 
THE LAW OF LIBERTY 2O9 
 
 away, the moon and stars be lost in endless night ; 
 but this remains, and remains as you create it. 
 Then, how shall it remain, — little, mean, contempt- 
 ible, distorted with passion and honey-combed with 
 sin, or great, grand, noble, true, the majestic em- 
 bodiment of a glorious ideal conceived by you here 
 on earth, and wrought out with patience and perse- 
 verance "during this your earth life, under " a law of 
 liberty " ? 
 
WHY AM I A UNITARIAN ? 
 
 " Let every man be fully persuaded in his own mind." — Rom. 
 xiv., s- 
 
 I WANT you to consider with me two questions : 
 First, Why am I a Unitarian } Second, Does Unita- 
 rianism stand for any principle which we, as Unita- 
 rians, are bound to support and defend ? 
 
 As an introduction to my subject, I desire to 
 emphasize the difference between religion and the- 
 ology, which difference I consider very important to 
 be understood. To this end, I will give you a brief 
 definition of each, and then endeavor to explain the 
 definition : — 
 
 I. Religion is a man's disposition toward his spir- 
 itual surrounding. 2. Theology is a man's attempted 
 description of his spiritual surrounding. 
 
 You will please to bear in mind that the spiritual 
 surrounding here mentioned includes all spiritual 
 existence, both in and out of the body : God, as well 
 as man ; living men and women, as well as those 
 who have passed away ; for living men and women 
 are but spirits clothed in flesh. Let us consider 
 the definition of religion first : Religion is a man's 
 disposition toward his spiritual surrounding. 
 
 You will see from this definition that there may 
 
WHY AM I A UNITARIAN 211 
 
 be both good and bad religions, as there are good 
 and bad dispositions. So there may be all grades 
 of goodness or badness in religion. All that is 
 needed to make a religion is the recognition of a 
 spiritual surrounding, and some kind of a disposition 
 toward that surrounding. A man may hate or fear 
 or love his spiritual surrounding and his religion 
 will be a religion of hate, a religion of fear, or a 
 religion of love, as the case may be. 
 
 No race of men has ever been found wholly with- 
 out religion ; that is, no race of men has ever been 
 found who did not recognize the spiritual side of 
 nature, and assume some mental attitude toward the 
 same. How could it be otherwise.' The veriest 
 savage feels that there dwells in his body a some- 
 thing which is wholly invisible, yet directs the 
 body's movements. His observation teaches him 
 that similar invisible powers inhabit the bodies of 
 not only all human beings, but of all living creatures. 
 Hence, he argues that every object in nature, large 
 or small, animal, vegetable, or mineral, has its in- 
 dwelling spirit. This is the first step in religion, 
 the recognition of a spiritual surrounding. Now, 
 how shall he regard all these other spirits.' Shall 
 he hate them, fear them, or love them .' So soon as 
 he decides this question, he has a religion, and it is 
 a religion of hate, of fear, or of love. There is not 
 much to choose between the religions of hate and 
 fear, for they are about equally low in the scale. 
 The religion of love is the highest form of religion ; 
 and the more ardent and comprehensive his affec- 
 
212 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 tion, the more truly religious is the man. A dispo- 
 sition of universal benevolence marks the truly 
 religious man. 
 
 " He prayeth best, who loveth best 
 All things both great and small." 
 
 This, then, is what I mean when I say that re- 
 ligion is a man's disposition toward his spiritual 
 surrounding. 
 
 Let us now consider our definition of theology : 
 Theology is a man's attempted description of his 
 spiritual surrounding. 
 
 We have seen that the savage feels in himself a 
 spirit, and by observation is led to believe that 
 a similar spirit inhabits every visible object. He 
 believes, further, that these spirits can exist inde- 
 pendent of the material objects in which they dwell ; 
 but, in or out of the object, they are not apparent to 
 his senses. He cannot see, hear, smell, taste, or 
 touch them. How, then, shall he describe them .' 
 There is but one way, and that is by imagining what 
 they are like. But it is impossible for him to imag- 
 ine a form such as he has never seen, therefore he 
 usually describes spirits as of similar form to the 
 bodies in which they dwell. The spirit of a man he 
 thinks of in the form of a man ; the spirit of a lion, 
 in the form of a lion ; the spirit of a bird, in the 
 form of a bird, and so on. Or he may imagine a 
 form composed of parts of all these united : the 
 head of a man on the body of a lion, with the wings 
 of an eagle; and he may picture the disembodied 
 
WHY AM I A UNITARIAN 2I3 
 
 spirit in this form. But, whatever his imagination, 
 it can only be a picture of some one thing, or of a 
 union of several things, which he has seen. The 
 human mind has no power to originate even the 
 simplest form. 
 
 Having imagined a spiritual form, he now imag- 
 ines spiritual attributes. And here, again, he has no 
 power of origination ; he can imagine no attribute 
 of which he is not himself conscious, or sees exhib- 
 ited in others. Therefore, he describes the disem- 
 bodied spirit as possessing the same nature that it 
 manifested while in the body, or else the same 
 nature that he feels in himself. He thinks of his 
 dead enemy as still vindictive, of the dead lion as 
 still ferocious, of the dead fawn as still gentle and 
 timid. 
 
 In like manner, he pictures to himself the spirits 
 of the sky, the sun, the moon, the ocean, the whirl- 
 wind, and the fire. Usually, he attributes to such 
 spirits human attributes ; and, believing that they 
 have both power and disposition to harm him or help 
 him, he offers them sacrifice, prays to them, and 
 worships them. Thus the religion of the savage is 
 known as Polytheism, or the worship of many spir- 
 its or gods. 
 
 Now, it will be borne in mind that, never having 
 seen these spirits, his description of their several 
 forms is pure imagination ; also, that his description 
 of their several natures is only an inference. He 
 argues, " The lion is ferocious, therefore the spirit of 
 the lion is ferocious ; the whirlwind destroys, there- 
 
214 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 fore the spirit of the whirlwind is destructive ; the 
 sun warms, therefore the spirit of the sun is kind." 
 This imaginary description of the spirits by which 
 he feels himself surrounded, and of their natures, is 
 the theology of the savage ; and this is what I mean 
 when I say in the definition that theology is a man's 
 attempted description of his spiritual surrounding. 
 
 As the savage progresses in civilization, — that is, 
 as his mind expands and develops through observa- 
 tion and experience, personal and inherited, — he 
 realizes a vast unity in nature. He sees that all 
 things are dependent on each other, and seem to 
 form a harmonious whole. Thus, the earth brings 
 forth vegetable life, which goes to support animal 
 life, which in its turn renews the earth again and 
 feeds the vegetable kingdom ; and from this reflec- 
 tion the idea gradually develops of one Supreme 
 Spirit, which comprehends within itself all the 
 minor spirits of the universe. And, so soon as this 
 conception is firmly fixed in his mind, he is become 
 a Monotheist, or worshippei: of one God. This is 
 our theological position to-day. 
 
 We Unitarians, like all other religious denomina- 
 tions, have a theology, or attempted description of 
 our spiritual surrounding. We describe God as one, 
 all-pervading and all-enfolding, comprehending all 
 visible and invisible forms. We attribute to him a 
 nature of transcendent excellence, made up of those 
 qualities which we most admire in man, — love, mercy, 
 justice, and the like. This conception of the unity 
 and perfection of the Supreme Spirit has been 
 
WHY AM I A UNITARIAN 2X5 
 
 affirmed and is still affirmed so persistently by our 
 denomination, as the most reasonable conception of 
 him possible to finite minds, that we have gained 
 the title of " Unitarians," or believers in the oneness 
 of God. Yet, in simple truth, we are bound to 
 admit that our theology, like every other, is only an 
 imaginary description of the Divine. It is but an 
 inference derived from observation of the universe 
 about us. For my part, I am free to admit that I 
 am utterly at a loss to define God. I seem to feel a 
 vast spiritual power about me, toward which my 
 spirit aspires, and which seems at times to respond 
 thereto ; and this I call " God." But what this power 
 is I do not know. The Unitarian description of it 
 may be right. The Trinitarian description of it may 
 be right. The Hindu description of it may be right. 
 I do not know which is right, and I care but little ; 
 for all descriptions thereof seem to me equally vain, 
 being all purely imaginative. I choose the Unita- 
 rian description because it seems to me most rea- 
 sonable of all, but I do not value it. Emerson says, 
 " If you define God, he ceases to be God." I do 
 not care to define him. It is enough for me to feel 
 that there is a power superior to myself, which 
 makes for righteousness. You may name it "trin- 
 ity " or " unity " ; you may say there is one God or 
 ten million Gods, — I care not. You do not know, 
 and I do not know. These are but inventions of 
 the imagination ; these are but weeds which choke 
 religion ; these are but quibbles about names. I 
 feel simply that God is, and there I rest. 
 
2l6 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 So much for our Unitarian theology. But Unita- 
 rianism is something more than a vain theology, an 
 imaginative description of what no one knows or 
 can know anything about: it is a theory of relig- 
 ion. You will notice that I say it is a theory of 
 religion, not that it is a religion. Religion is a 
 purely individual thing. We, believing in the same 
 theory of religion, band together to form a society, 
 and call ourselves " Unitarians." A number of 
 others, believing in a different theory of religion, 
 band together, and call themselves " Roman Cath- 
 olics." Still others, believing in a yet different 
 theory of religion, band together, and call them- 
 selves " Orthodox." Yet there is no distinctive 
 "Unitarian," "Roman Catholic," or "Orthodox" 
 religion, for each person in each society has his 
 own individual religion. For example : Here are 
 one hundred persons gathered together, all holding 
 the same theory of religion, which they name the 
 " Unitarian " theory. But there are just as many 
 different religions represented here as there are 
 persons present ; that is, each one here exhibits a 
 different disposition toward his spiritual surround- 
 ing, toward God and man. A may live in con- 
 stant fear of his spiritual surrounding, then his will 
 be a religion of fear ; B may hate his spiritual sur- 
 rounding, then his will be a religion of hate ; C 
 may love his spiritual surrounding, then his will be 
 a religion of love ; and so on throughout the whole 
 assemblage. Yet we all accept the Unitarian 
 theory of religion, and call ourselves Unitarians. 
 
WHY AM I A UNITARIAN 2\^ 
 
 So, you see, a theory of religion may be social, 
 but religion itself is individual. The Episcopalian 
 theory is the established theory of religion in Eng- 
 land ; but every Englishman has his own individual 
 religion, and regulates his life thereby. 
 
 "But," you will say, "if this is the case, what 
 does it matter where I attend church, or to what 
 special theory of religion I subscribe ? My individ- 
 ual religion will be the same, whatever theory I hold." 
 
 There I think you are wrong. The theory of 
 religion you hold will certainly affect your religion 
 for good or evil. If you have a bad theory of re- 
 ligion, it will lower the tone of your religious life. 
 If you have a good theory, it will tend to ennoble it. 
 I can best explain this by comparing several different 
 theories. We will begin with the Roman Catholic, 
 which is the oldest, or Mother Church, from which 
 all the others spring : — 
 
 I. The Roman Catholic theology teaches the ex- 
 istence of three Gods, the Father, the Son, and the 
 Holy Ghost, distinct, and yet united, — " trinity in 
 unity." 
 
 Its theory of religion is that, through the sin of 
 Adam, the human race became depraved, and hence 
 all men were justly condemned to eternal punish- 
 ment ; that God the Son descended to earth, took 
 upon himself the human form, and suffered death as 
 a sacrifice for all those who should accept the same 
 through the proper channel, — that is, the Roman 
 Catholic Church ; that his merits, and those of the 
 saints and martyrs, constitute an inexhaustible treas- 
 
2l8 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 ury for the cancellation of sin ; that the pope is the 
 only representative of God on earth, and has sole 
 power to apportion these merits and forgive sins, 
 remitting all punishment both here and hereafter ; 
 that the pope and his successors in office are infalli- 
 ble in judgment, and cannot err; that unquestioning 
 submission to clerical authority is the duty of the 
 people. 
 
 II. The Protestant Churches hold precisely the 
 same theology as the Roman Catholic : three Gods 
 in one, — " trinity in unity." 
 
 Their theory of religion is the same, only they 
 deny the authority of the pope, and substitute an 
 infallible book, the Bible, for an infallible church. 
 They teach that God only can forgive sin, and that 
 the sole condition of salvation is faith in Christ and 
 the acceptance of his atonement. The several sects 
 differ from eadh other only in minor details of the- 
 ology and ritual. All agree that faith alone is to be 
 exercised in religious matters : reason must be held 
 in abeyance. 
 
 III. The Unitarian theology maintains the abso- 
 lute unity of the universe ; the existence of One 
 Eternal Spirit, without form, comprehending all vis- 
 ible and invisible objects. 
 
 The Unitarian theory of religion is that, under 
 the guidance of this beneficent Ruling Power, the 
 human race has ascended from lower conditions to 
 its present mental and moral status ; that the limit 
 is not yet reached, but that we are still ascending ; 
 that life is unending, and progression infinite ; that 
 
WHY AM I A UNITARIAN 219 
 
 love is the noblest quality in either God or man, and 
 love for all the highest form of religion ; that sin is 
 transgression of law, and punishment the natural 
 consequence of such transgression; that each man 
 by his own acts moulds his own destiny, and that 
 a vicarious atonement for sin is impossible; that 
 reason is the only arbiter of all questions, religious 
 or otherwise, and conscience the only rule of action. 
 I have thus briefly stated the three principal sys- 
 tems of theology and theories of religion held to-day 
 in the Christian world. I say the three principal 
 systems and theories ; for, though the professors of 
 Unitarianism are but a handful as compared with 
 those of the other two, yet the principles of Unita- 
 rianism are widely distributed. Had we power to 
 canvass the hearts and consciences of men, disre- 
 garding the professions of their lips, I firmly believe 
 we might count our communion by hundreds of 
 millions, instead of by paltry thousands. Millions 
 upon millions of our brethren throughout the world 
 have never entered a Unitarian church nor heard a 
 Unitarian sermon. Millions upon millions of Uni- 
 tarians do not comprehend what Unitarianism is, or 
 even know that they are such. Millions upon mill- 
 ions of Trinitarians are year by year being educated 
 into Unitarianism, as I myself was educated, solely 
 through the extravagance and absurdity of Trinita- 
 rian teaching, without a single Unitarian influence, 
 without reading a Unitarian book, without hearing a 
 Unitarian sermon, or even knowing the meaning of 
 the word. Yes, we are few in numbers, but our in- 
 
220 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 fluence is great. Unitarianism is "the little leaven 
 which is leavening the whole lump." 
 
 I ask you now to consider with me the first ques- 
 tion which I put in opening, Why am I a Unitarian ? 
 
 First, because the Roman Catholic and Protestant 
 theology of three Gods which are only one, and one 
 God which is in fact three, conveys no definite idea 
 to my mind. It is an unintelligible jumble of 
 words, wholly contradictory, and therefore utter non- 
 sense. Either there is only one God, indivisible, or 
 else there are three distinct Gods. Brought up in 
 the Episcopal faith, I imbibed the idea of three dis- 
 ti.nct Gods in the form of men, — Father, Son, and 
 Holy Ghost. This idea I have outgrown, and have 
 exchanged it for the Unitarian idea of One Supreme 
 Power, without form, indivisible, and comprehend- 
 ing all things. I accept this conception of God, 
 because it seems to me the more reasonable. Of 
 course, I do not know that it is correct ; for, as I told 
 you in opening, all theology is but an attempted 
 description, founded solely on imagination and infer- 
 ence. 
 
 Second, I am a Unitarian because I regard the 
 Trinitarian theories of religion as not only false, 
 but absolutely pernicious. I count the Roman Cath- 
 olic theory of an infallible pope and the Protestant 
 theory of an infallible Bible as equally untrue in 
 fact and equally injurious in effect. But, above all, 
 I regard the doctrine of " vicarious atonement " as 
 absolutely immoral, and directly tending to the in- 
 crease of crime. That doctrine teaches that the 
 
WHY AM I A UNITARIAN 221 
 
 most evil life may be washed clean, even at the last 
 moment, in the blood of Christ, if the offender will 
 but repent and accept the divine atonement. An 
 Episcopalian lady lately told me that, as she under- 
 stands this doctrine, "a man may lead the most 
 criminal life possible, and, being condemned for 
 murder, may repent upon the scaffold, accept the 
 atonement, and pass at once into the joys of heaven. 
 His victim may have lived a most moral and merito- 
 rious life, but, being struck down suddenly, without 
 opportunity to repent and accept the atonement, 
 passes at once into hell, there to remain eternally 
 without hope of escape." She said, " I know that 
 this doctrine is not reasonable, it is not common 
 sense ; but my church teaches it, and therefore I 
 believe it." Brought up in the same church, and 
 taught the same doctrine, I agree with her that it is 
 not reasonable and is not common sense ; but, unlike 
 her, I deny the authority of any church to teach 
 such a monstrous doctrine. I reject that doctrine as 
 wholly unworthy of belief ; I denounce it as immoral, 
 — as placing a premium upon crime, and as unfit for 
 publication in any civilized community. 
 
 Third, I am a Unitarian because, while rejecting 
 this theory of vicarious atonement, I accept the 
 Unitarian doctrine, that each man moulds his own 
 destiny; that the soul enters the next life as it 
 leaves this, and that its condition there will depend 
 wholly upon its action here ; that imputed sin is a 
 fable, and vicarious atonement a myth ; that the 
 earthly ideal of justice approximates the divine jus- 
 
222 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 tice, and by the rule of absolute justice, in the light 
 of all the circumstances, shall we be judged. 
 
 I have already said that the Unitarian theology 
 of One Supreme Spirit, all-pervading, all-enfolding, 
 absolutely without form, and indivisible, commends 
 itself to my mind as the most reasonable of all 
 theologies. This is the God I worship. But, while 
 loving and worshipping the majestic unity of God 
 which comprehends all, I must not forget my duties 
 owed to the individual spirits dwelling within that 
 unity and surrounding me upon every side. For we 
 have found that religion is not only a man's dispo- 
 sition toward God, the Supreme Spirit, but also his 
 disposition toward men, his fellow-spirits. He is 
 not truly religious who loves God as a whole, yet 
 hates his fellow-man ; for his fellow-man is a part of 
 God. How can I claim to truly love my friend, if I 
 hate one of his limbs, and strive constantly to injure 
 it .' The truly religious man must find the God in 
 every object, and feel only love for every object, be 
 it friend or foe. This, I take it, is what the apostle 
 John meant when he wrote, " If a man say, I love 
 God, and hateth his brother, he is a liar." This, 
 also, it seems to me, is what Jesus meant when he 
 taught the Pharisees that God is the Father of men ; 
 that love to man is quite as necessary to a religious 
 life as love to God ; that the second cannot exist 
 without the first, and, if love to man is lacking, pre- 
 tended love to God is but rank hypocrisy. 
 
 Fourth, I am a Unitarian because I believe reason 
 to be the greatest gift from God to man. Who 
 
WHY AM I A UNITARIAN 223 
 
 would not rather lose fortune, bodily health, even life 
 itself, than to become insane ? And I believe reason, 
 not faith, to be the divinely appointed arbiter of 
 truth ; conscience, the only rule of action. 
 
 Fifth, I am a Unitarian because this denomination 
 only has dared to sweep down the cobwebs of tra- 
 dition, and view the grand picture of life by the 
 daylight of common sense. Only from a Unitarian 
 pulpit may a minister dare to state his full conviction. 
 
 I turn now to consider the second question which 
 I proposed to you in opening : Does Unitarianism 
 stand for any principle which we, as Unitarians, are 
 bound to support and defend ? 
 
 Is not this question already answered by what has 
 gone before .' If we, as Unitarians, believe the 
 prevalent faiths to be false and harmful, exercising a 
 bad influence on society, and encouraging men to 
 lead immoral lives, trusting to death-bed repentance 
 and a vicarious atonement for justification, how can 
 we remain indifferent.' If we believe that we are 
 possessed of a purer faith, tending to a better life 
 here and a happier life hereafter, how shall we keep 
 silence ? And yet it is a melancholy fact that Uni- 
 tarians, as a class, are less loyal to their convictions 
 than any other religious denomination. They give, 
 as a rule, but half-hearted support to their own 
 church, and not infrequently go over to the enemy. 
 They support creeds that they do not believe in 
 with both money and attendance, while their own 
 faith languishes for want of just that support. They 
 send their children to Roman Catholic convents or 
 
224 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 Episcopalian boarding-schools, to be educated, quite 
 as willingly as to Unitarian institutions, if indeed 
 not more willingly. Here in New England, the 
 stronghold of Unitarianism, a well-filled Unitarian 
 church is the exception, a live Unitarian Sunday- 
 school something almost unheard of. 
 
 My friends, I would have you feel that Unitarian- 
 ism is not a dead issue, but a living one. There is 
 a principle involved therein ; and, believing in that 
 principle, we are bound to support and defend it to 
 the death. " Let every man be fully persuaded in 
 his own mind " ; and, being thus persuaded, let him 
 see to it that his life is true to his conviction. Your 
 ancestors rebelled against tyranny, and gave their 
 lives in defence of a principle. Some of you, twenty 
 years ago, took the field, and dared death for a prin- 
 ciple. Then, stand by your faith to-day, as you 
 stood by your flag then, and support your society as 
 you supported your regiment. Once you were will- 
 ing to die for a principle, now I ask you to live for 
 a principle. 
 
PLAN OF SALVATION TAUGHT BY JESUS, 
 
 AS COMPARED WITH THAT TAUGHT BV PAUL. 
 
 " What shall I do to inherit eternal life ? " — Luke x., 25. 
 " What must I do to be saved ? " — Acts xvi., 30. 
 
 Such was the question asked of Jesus by a Jewish 
 lawyer ; and such was the question asked of Paul, 
 some thirty years later, by the Greek jailor at 
 Philippi. 
 
 It was no new question then, for it had been asked 
 for ages. It is no old question now, for it is upon 
 every lip. " What shall I do to inherit eternal life .' " 
 " What must I do to be saved .' " is the anxious 
 inquiry of every heart at some period of life. Even 
 the most worldly cannot banish it ; for the sand in 
 the hour-glass grows less and less day by day, and 
 no human power can add another grain thereto. 
 Each silver hair, each wrinkle on the brow, the 
 failing vision and the tottering step, — all are advance 
 couriers of death, to warn us of his approach. 
 Stricken by his shafts, one by one our comrades 
 fall ; and well we know that " there is no discharge 
 in that war." Young and old, rich and poor, high 
 and low, all must fall, and that soon ; for death is no 
 respecter of persons. Fifty years ago, all these 
 vacant seats were filled by those who have passed 
 
226 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 away. Fifty years hence, how few of us shall 
 remain ! Picture the scene, if you can. There will 
 be another minister in the pulpit, and other hearers 
 in the pews. Perhaps one or two, or at most half 
 a dozen, of these young children will be here as 
 gray-haired men and women, perhaps not even 
 these ; and of all the rest no trace will remain, 
 save here and there upon the earth's surface a 
 sodded mound overgrown with weeds and a graven 
 name fast fading from the stone. 
 
 At first thought, the picture is a sad one; and 
 hopelessly sad would it be, had it not an outlook, — 
 were there not a rift in the cloud. But, through that 
 rift, we catch fleeting glimpses of a glory all unknown 
 to earth, and rise on the wings of hope to greet the 
 rising day. The soul affirms her immortality, and 
 with confidence exclaims : — 
 
 " Though I stoop 
 Into a dark, tremendous sea of cloud, 
 It is but for a time : 
 I press God's lamp close to my heart ; 
 Its splendor, soon or late, shall pierce the gloom ; 
 I shall emerge somewhere." 
 
 This conviction that we shall emerge somewhere, 
 this uncertainty of where or what our destiny may 
 be, gives life its zest. Were all revealed, might not 
 eternity pall upon the sense > Now, the prospect is 
 ever fresh, since it is ever changing. Will not eter- 
 nity be an endless series of dissolving views .' As 
 one fades from the canvas, a lovelier shall replace it, 
 to be in turn replaced by one still more beautiful. 
 
PLAN OF SALVATION TAUGHT BY JESUS 22/ 
 
 So we question and so we imagine ; but now another 
 doubt arises : Admitting the reality of the eternal 
 life, am I worthy to attain thereto ? Harriet Marti- 
 neau said she could see no good reason why Harriet 
 Martineau should be continued. An intelligent busi- 
 ness man told me not long since that he had never 
 met with either man or woman whom he considered 
 worth saving. The judgment is a harsh one, yet 
 I think all would indorse it at times. Our human 
 aims are so low, our human interests so small, our 
 human lives so petty and mean, that the question 
 forces itself upon us, Are we worth saving.' Yet 
 why do we feel this sense of littleness .' Is it not 
 because we feel also within us the elements of great- 
 ness .' The chained eagle pines ; and why .' Be- 
 cause his pinions thrill with action, and his native 
 instinct points him to the stars. 
 
 Of this we are persuaded, that a larger destiny is 
 ours than we find here. To youth, the joys of earth 
 are sufficient ; but soon they pall. The soul yearns 
 for something purer, nobler, larger, better than these 
 baubles of sense, and questions eagerly of the life be- 
 yond : This life does not satisfy me. " What shall 
 I do to inherit eternal life } " " What must I do to 
 be saved ? " I now ask you to consider with me the 
 respective answers given to these questions by the 
 two great leaders of religious thought in the Chris- 
 tian world, to whom they were addressed ; namely, 
 Jesus and Paul : " Master, what shall I do to inherit 
 eternal life ? " asked the lawyer of Jesus. And he 
 answered, " What is written in the law of Moses in 
 
228 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 which you were educated? How readest thou the 
 answer there given ? " The lawyer replied : " I find 
 these two injunctions in the law of Moses : first, 
 'Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy 
 heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy 
 strength, and with all thy mind ' ; second, ' Thou 
 shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.' " And Jesus said 
 to him : " Thou hast answered right. This is the 
 law taught by Moses, and this is what I also teach. 
 If you love God truly, and your neighbor as your- 
 self, you shall live eternally." 
 
 You will notice that throughout the dialogue, as 
 reported in the several Gospels, Jesus says no word 
 about having faith in himself. He was but a hum- 
 ble teacher of God's truth, and doubtless felt himself 
 an unworthy vessel to convey that kindling draught 
 to parched lips. To us, receivers of that draught, he 
 seems transfigured, and hardly of earth ; but I doubt 
 not that to himself he seemed far otherwise, and the 
 more so since his ideal of righteousness was so 
 transcendently excellent. 
 
 Here, then, in his own words, we have the plan of 
 salvation taught by Jesus. How simple it is ! No 
 mysteries of faith, no subtleties of dogma, no forms 
 or ceremonies, no questions about creeds. Simply 
 a religion of love, — love to God and love to man. 
 "This do, and thou shalt live." This was the relig- 
 ion he taught, and this the religion by which he lived. 
 It is much easier to preach than to practise ; but he 
 practised what he preached. The whole record of 
 his life can be summed up in five words, "He 
 
PLAN OF SALVATION TAUGHT BY JESUS 229 
 
 went about doing good." Judged from a worldly 
 point of view, his was not a remarkable life : he 
 established no empire, he wrote no books, he dis- 
 covered no secrets of nature, he gave the world no 
 facts, he did not even say anything original ; but, 
 judged from a spiritual stand-point, his was the most 
 remarkable of all lives, in that he lived and taught 
 the noblest yet the simplest form of religion possi- 
 ble, — a religion of love. A child may understand it, 
 and a sage cannot improve upon it. 
 
 But, strange to say, the human mind is never satis- 
 fied with that which is perfectly clear and simple. 
 It has a morbid craving for that which is strange 
 and mysterious. A touch of the marvellous gives 
 wondrous interest to a story. The author who is 
 easily understood is pronounced superficial, while 
 he whose style is obscure is counted learned. The 
 Gordian knot may be tied in hemp ; but to him who 
 unties it, it will seem worsted, and to him who can- 
 not untie it, it will appear the finest silk. 
 
 Like Jesus, the apostle Paul was a Jew ; but, unlike 
 him, he had been reared in the strictest sect of the 
 Pharisees, and had imbibed all their fantastic notions 
 regarding ceremonial observance and justification 
 by faith. The bent of his mind was argumentative 
 rather than religious ; and this I count the distinctive 
 difference between the two men. Jesus was all sim- 
 plicity and devotion, Paul was all subtlety and 
 argument ; Jesus was moral, Paul was metaphysical ; 
 Jesus was religious, Paul was theological. 
 
 In Paul's time, the Gospels had not yet come into 
 
230 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 existence, and all his information concerning Jesus 
 must have been gleaned from floating tradition. 
 The survivors of the twelve at Jerusalem may 
 have enlightened him somewhat; but this is uncer- 
 tain, as he does not appear to have met with them 
 until after he had been preaching several years, and 
 then they treated him as a heretic, constantly quar- 
 relled with him, and sought to undo his work. Had 
 they been so disposed, they probably could not have 
 given him much information worth having, as they 
 seem to have quite misunderstood the spirit of Jesus' 
 teaching. He had told them emphatically, " My 
 kingdom is not of this world " ; but they insisted that 
 it was of this world. They believed him to have 
 been the " Messiah " promised by the prophets, and 
 that he would presently return from heaven — which 
 they regarded as a place only a few miles away, up 
 in the sky — to destroy the Romans and restore the 
 kingdom of Israel. Paul believed the same; and 
 the only point of difference between him and the 
 twelve was as to who should become citizens of the 
 new Jewish kingdom soon to be established. James, 
 Peter, and the rest said it was for Jews only, while 
 Paul maintained that Gentiles also might share 
 therein, if they would only believe Jesus to have 
 been the promised Messiah. So you see that 
 Christianity at first was only a sect of Judaism. 
 The twelve apostles were Jews, and Paul was a 
 Jew, and both they and he remained Jews to the 
 last. They differed from the majority of their 
 countrymen only in this, — the latter believed Mes- 
 
PLAN OF SALVATION TAUGHT BY JESUS 23 1 
 
 siah was yet to come. The apostles, Paul included, 
 believed that he had already come, had looked the 
 ground over, and gone back to heaven to report 
 progress ; whence he would presently return with 
 an army of angels, to sweep all before him. In 
 Paul's preaching, the only way to escape destruction 
 and secure citizenship in the coming kingdom was 
 to acknowledge the sovereignty of Christ and take 
 the oath of allegiance to him. Therefore, when the 
 jailor at Philippi questioned, " Sirs, what must I do 
 to be saved ? " Paul, in answer, made only one con- 
 dition : " Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and 
 thou shalt be saved, and thy house." 
 
 Here, then, are the two systems brought into sharp 
 contrast. Jesus' plan of salvation was love to God 
 and man, universal benevolence, a life of good works. 
 Paul's plan of salvation was faith, — belief that Jesus 
 was the promised Messiah, or Christ, who should 
 restore Israel. 
 
 These two systems have been blended in Chris- 
 tianity. The religious element therein is from 
 Jesus, its theology is from Paul. You find the 
 spirit of Jesus in the charities and sympathies of 
 Christian men and women. You find the spirit of 
 Paul in the creeds, the forms, and the stilted observ- 
 ances of the several sects. All this is but Pharisee- 
 ism, — a legitimate inheritance from Paul, who was 
 bred a strict Pharisee, and never thoroughly outgrew 
 his early training; but Jesus detested Phariseeism 
 in every form, and made this sect the especial object 
 of his denunciation. 
 
232 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 As I read the record, I am more and more im- 
 pressed with the simple, unpretending character of 
 the life that Jesus lived, — a poor, unlettered me- 
 chanic, without influence, but rich in spirit, learned 
 through communion with nature, and winning all 
 hearts to himself by the love he felt and showed for 
 all. I find him purely human, a man among men. 
 And while I thank Paul that, mainly through his ex- 
 ertions, the record of Jesus' life is preserved to us, I 
 blame him that he overwhelmed the pure religion of 
 his Master under such a weary load of theological 
 rubbish as to almost strangle it. 
 
 My brothers, I strive to clear away this theo- 
 logical deposit, because I consider it worthless and 
 harmful. I seek the religion that Jesus taught, — 
 not because Jesus taught it, for I regard him as a 
 fallible man like myself, but because I think he 
 taught God's truth. Happiness is what we all 
 seek, and the question is, How shall we attain 
 thereto .' This was the question asked by the 
 lawyer of Jesus, "What shall I do to inherit 
 eternal life.'" that is, "What shall I do to inherit 
 eternal happiness?" This was the question asked 
 by the jailor of Paul, "What must I do to be 
 saved .' " that is, " What must I do to be saved 
 from misery here and hereafter ? " 
 
 We are all more or less unhappy and miserable, 
 and we are all asking the same question. Jesus an- 
 swers that question in words, not only on this occa- 
 sion, but repeatedly. He answers that question 
 also by the life he lived. He tells us that to love 
 
PLAN OF SALVATION TAUGHT BY JESUS 233 
 
 God and man is the whole law, and emphasizes his 
 meaning by the story of the good Samaritan ; while 
 he himself practically fulfils that story day by day. 
 Herein, he teaches that acts of charity and self-for- 
 getfulness lead to happiness. Again he tells us, 
 " By thy words thou shalt be justified, and by thy 
 words thou shalt be condemned." Here he recog- 
 nizes the tremendous power for good or evil resting 
 in that unruly member, the tongue. Who has not 
 suffered by the word of another.' Who has not 
 made others suffer by his word ? Surely, the prayer 
 of the psalmist should be our prayer continually, 
 " Set a watch, O Lord, before my mouth ; keep the 
 door of my lips." But Jesus does not stop here : he 
 takes one more step, goes to the fountain-head, and 
 says : " Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth 
 speaketh. The good man out of his good treasure 
 bringeth forth good things : and the evil man out of 
 his evil treasure bringeth forth evil things." Here, 
 he demands the purification of thought and the 
 renovation of the soul. It is as if he said to one 
 whose ground is overrun with weeds : First, cut 
 down the weeds : these are the bad actions of life ; 
 second, destroy the feathery seeds floating hither 
 and thither : these are the thoughtless expressions 
 of the lips ; third, dig up and destroy the roots : 
 these are evil thoughts; fourth, replenish and 
 reseed the ground — which is thy soul — with the 
 germs of righteousness, from whence shall spring 
 the green blade of hope, the blossom of promise, and 
 the golden harvest of eternal joy. 
 
MIRACLES AND MYTHS OF THE BIBLE. 
 
 Next Sunday, I propose to consider the question, 
 Did Jesus work miracles ? And, as an introduction to 
 that inquiry, I ask you now to review with me the 
 miracles and marvels recorded in the Old Testament. 
 Such a preliminary review is very important, as the 
 Old Testament is the foundation upon which the 
 New Testament is built ; and, if we do not under- 
 stand the Old, we cannot possibly understand the 
 New. First of all, I would have you gain an idea of 
 the average mental condition of the Jewish people in 
 the time of Jesus. 
 
 That they were ignorant and superstitious beyond 
 all belief will best be proven by a glance at their 
 public-school system. The schools were held in 
 the synagogues, where the school-children sat, bare- 
 footed and half-clothed, upon the earthen floor, the 
 teacher being seated on a cushion at one end of the 
 room. He taught them that the world was a flat 
 circular plain of very limited size, having a large 
 dark cavity upon the under side, in which the spirits 
 of the dead were confined. This flat plain, with its 
 cellar-like attachment, floated upon a sea of unknown 
 magnitude, and was roofed in with a metal sky, 
 which rested at the edges upon the mountain-tops. 
 
MIRACLES AND MYTHS OF THE BIBLE 235 
 
 Under this metal roof, the sun, moon, and stars were 
 hung as lanterns to light the plain below. On the 
 top of this metal sky was heaven, where their God 
 Yahweh and his angels dwelt, keeping watch over the 
 human race, and sometimes going down to earth the 
 better to direct matters. If the teacher desired to 
 convey the idea simply and yet forcibly to the pupil's 
 mind, he might spread a large table with a blue 
 cloth to represent " the great deep " ; then in the 
 centre of the cloth he would place an iron bowl to 
 stand for " the underworld," where the spirits of the 
 dead were ; and upon top of this he would place a 
 green delf plate to typify "the round earth." This 
 last he would cover over with a copper basin of the 
 same circumference, inverted so as to rest its rim 
 upon the raised edges of the plate : this would be 
 the metal sky resting on the mountain-tops. Then, 
 on the upturned bottom of this basin, he would set 
 a smaller one of shining gold, which would stand for 
 heaven. Had it been lawful to make images, — which 
 was forbidden by the law of Moses, — he would prob- 
 ably have represented the god Yahweh as a very old 
 and venerable man of marked Jewish type, having a 
 long, gray beard and rather harsh expression of 
 countenance. The angels he would represent as 
 younger "men (also Jews in appearance) clad with 
 wings for speedy travel, and wearing swords where- 
 with to execute Yahweh's judgments upon mortals. 
 Along with these, he would exhibit three old men, — 
 Jews in earthly mould of flesh and blood. These 
 would be Enoch, Moses, and Elijah, who were be- 
 
236 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 lieved never to have died, but had been caught up 
 bodily into heaven. So you see their plan of the 
 universe was simple, easily explained, and easily 
 understood, though not very satisfactory to us who 
 know better. 
 
 The only books the school-children studied were 
 the manuscript copies of what now constitute our Old 
 Testament. Here they read of how Yahweh created 
 Adam and Eve out of the dust of the ground ; how 
 he walked in the garden in the cool of the evening, 
 and passed judgment upon them for their disobe- 
 dience, and upon the serpent for tempting them ; 
 how he cursed Cain and banished him ; how he took 
 Enoch bodily up into heaven ; how he decided to de- 
 stroy the world by a flood, and did so, but saved 
 Noah and his family alive, together with pairs of 
 every kind of creature, then hung the rainbow on 
 the cloud as a perpetual token of his covenant not to 
 repeat the judgment ; how he confounded the build- 
 ers of Babel and dispersed them; how he chose 
 Abram for a friend, and blessed him, and visited him 
 at his tent, and ate with him, and gave him a son in 
 his old age ; how two angels were entertained by 
 Lot, and saved him and his children alive, but de- 
 stroyed Sodom and Gomorrah with fire from heaven, 
 and turned his wife into a pillar of salt for her diso- 
 bedience in looking back at the conflagration ; how 
 Yahweh chose Jacob and rejected Esau while the 
 twins were yet unborn, blessing the first with every 
 prosperity and causing him to take precedence of 
 his elder brother; how Yahweh, in the form of a 
 
MIRACLES AND MYTHS OF THE BIBLE 23/ 
 
 man, wrestled with Jacob, was overcome by him and 
 compelled to bless him ; how Yahweh favored Joseph 
 and brought the Israelites into Egypt, where they 
 multiplied and grew strong ; and how, when the 
 time came for them to go forth, Yahweh's chosen 
 leader Moses appeared. 
 
 Up to this point, the wonders have nearly all been 
 performed by Yahweh and his angels ; but now the 
 power of working miracles is conferred upon men, 
 while the visible appearance of Yahweh in human 
 form ceases. He still appears, however, in dreams 
 and visions, in fire and whirlwind. Thus Moses, 
 while pasturing his sheep upon Mount Horeb, meets 
 him in the burning bush, and is commanded to go 
 and deliver Israel from bondage. As a token of his 
 authority, Yahweh gives him power to work miracles. 
 But it would appear that others had similar powers ; 
 for, when Moses and his brother Aaron went before 
 Pharaoh, and transformed their rod into a serpent, 
 the Egyptian sorcerers did exactly the same thing, 
 only Moses' serpent swallowed all the others, and 
 then became a rod again. Then Moses turned the 
 river Nile and all the other streams of the country 
 into blood; but the magicians of Egypt did the same. 
 Then he covered the land with a plague of frogs, but 
 they did this also. But when he transformed the 
 dust of the ground into lice, this they could not do. 
 He also brought a plague of flies upon the land, and 
 a disease which killed off all the live stock ; also a 
 plague of boils upon all the people ; also a hail- 
 storm, which destroyed all that were exposed to it ; 
 
238 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 then locusts in clouds, which ate up every green 
 thing; then darkness over all the land so intense 
 that, as the record tells us, it might be felt ; and 
 finally Yahweh took the matter into his own hand, 
 and in one night slew all the first-born of man and 
 beast throughout the land of Egypt, from the eldest 
 son of Pharaoh down even to the eldest of the mean- 
 est of his subjects. Then the king commanded that 
 Israel should go ; yet so unwilling was he to lose 
 his slaves that he pursued them, and overtook them 
 at the Red Sea. But Moses, by command of Yah- 
 weh, stretched forth his magic rod, and divided the 
 waters, so that the Israelites went through dry- 
 shod ; but Pharaoh, attempting to follow, was over- 
 whelmed with all his host by the returning tide. 
 Henceforth, the people were led in their wanderings 
 by a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by 
 night. When they were hungry, Yahweh sent them 
 quails and manna; and when they lacked water, 
 Moses procured it for them by striking the rock 
 with his magic rod. 
 
 How vividly the presence of Yahweh is pictured 
 upon Mount Sinai, where he appears in thunders and 
 lightnings, with fire, and smoke, and thick cloud, to 
 give the law graven upon tables of stone to Moses, 
 whom he will not allow to see his face, but shows 
 him his back ! 
 
 The next important miracle occurs after Moses' 
 death, when the people, under command of Joshua, 
 attempt to cross the river Jordan. The ark being 
 borne by priests at the head of the army, so soon as 
 
MIRACLES AND MYTHS OF THE BIBLE 239 
 
 their feet touch the water the stream is divided, and 
 the whole army passes over dry-shod. Then Joshua 
 besieges the city of Jericho in a somewhat novel 
 fashion. For six days, the Israelites made the circuit 
 of the city once each day, preceded by the ark, 
 around which seven priests walked, each bearing a 
 ram's horn trumpet, on which he blew continually. 
 On the seventh day, they compassed the city in the 
 same order seven times ; and, as they completed the 
 seventh circuit, the whole army united in a loud 
 shout, at which the walls fell down ; and all they had 
 to do was to walk in and take possession, which they 
 did, putting every living creature — man, woman, 
 child, and beast — to death. But more remarkable 
 by far is the story of Joshua's fight with the Amo- 
 rites in the valley of Ajalon. Fearing that dark- 
 ness might interrupt the slaughter, he commanded 
 the sun and moon both to stand still over certain 
 points which he assigned to them ; and thus they 
 stood for a whole day, until he had made an end of 
 his enemies, when he permitted the heavenly bodies 
 to move on. 
 
 This was the crowning feat of Joshua's life in the 
 way of miracle-working. After his death, we find 
 angels appearing to Gideon, Manoah, and others ; and 
 then we come to the history of SamSon, whose birth 
 was foretold by an angel from heaven. Samson was 
 rather an athlete than a worker of miracles. The 
 secret of his great strength lay in his hair, which 
 was very long. A lion attacked him one day, but he 
 easily killed the creature with his hands, having no 
 
240 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 weapon. He quarrelled with the Philistines, and on 
 one occasion killed thirty men single-handed; but 
 this was as nothing compared with the time when he 
 slew one thousand men with the jaw-bone of an ass, 
 that being the only weapon at hand. Then, feeling 
 thirsty, he prayed to Yahweh, and a spring of fresh 
 water flowed out of the jaw-bone to quench his thirst. 
 At another time, he caught three hundred foxes, and 
 tied their tails together with fire-brands between. 
 Then he loosed them into his enemies' corn-fields, 
 and destroyed all their crops. And yet again he 
 carried away the gates of one of their cities upon his 
 shoulders. At last, through the treachery of his 
 wife, who cut off his hair and thus deprived him of 
 strength, he was taken captive by the Philistines, 
 who put out his eyes and made him grind corn for 
 them. But one day, at a festival, they brought him 
 out to make sport of him, not noticing that his hair 
 was partially grown again, when he seized upon the 
 pillars supporting the hall in which they were assem- 
 bled, and pulled down the building upon their heads, 
 destroying the whole multitude, and himself with the 
 rest. 
 
 In the time of Samuel there were many marvels. 
 The Philistines, having captured the ark in battle, 
 placed it as a trophy in the temple of their god 
 Dagon. But the idol of Dagon fell prostrate before 
 it, and was broken in pieces. Then the whole city 
 was afflicted with disease, while the country was 
 overrun with mice, so it was decided to send the 
 ark home. They therefore placed it on a new cart, 
 
MIRACLES AND MYTHS OF THE BIBLE 24I 
 
 and yoked thereto two cows which had lately calved. 
 The calves they shut up at home, yet the cows delib- 
 erately left them, went lowing along the highway, 
 and carried the ark directly to the land of Israel. 
 But, when it arrived at its destination, the people 
 were so rejoiced that some of them looked inside 
 to see if all had been returned safely. Yahweh was 
 angry at this sacrilege, and killed fifty thousand of 
 them ; so the return of the ark was hardly an unal- 
 loyed blessing, after all. Then David, a mere youth, 
 armed only with a sling and stone, killed Goliath, the 
 gigantic champion of the Philistines, who was over 
 ten feet in height, whose coat of mail weighed more 
 than three thousand pounds, and the head of his 
 spear three hundred and seventy-five pounds. Saul, 
 in fear of the Philistines, goes to the witch of Endor, 
 who raises up the spirit of the dead Samuel to talk 
 with him. Uzzah, attempting to steady the ark 
 with his hand, as it is brought home on a cart, is 
 struck dead by Yahweh for the sacrilege. David, 
 dancing naked before the ark, as it passes down the 
 street, is despised by Saul's daughter Michal. As 
 a punishment to her for this, she dies childless. 
 David's sin in killing Uriah the Hittite, and taking 
 his wife, is punished by the death of their child, as 
 foretold by the prophet Nathan. Then David re- 
 lieves a famine of three years' duration by hanging 
 seven of Saul's sons. Finally, David is tempted by 
 Yahweh to take a census of the people, and then 
 Yahweh punishes him for so doing by a pestilence, 
 which kills seventy thousand of them. 
 
242 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 The chief marvel recorded in the reign of Solomon 
 was the descent of fire from heaven upon the sac- 
 rifice offered up at the dedication of the temple. 
 After his death, the kingdom was divided, Jereboam 
 reigning over Israel, and Rehoboam over Judah. A 
 prophet of Yahweh visited the court of Israel, and 
 prophesied against the idolatry there practised. Jere- 
 boam attempted to seize him, when his arm with- 
 ered so that he could not draw it back, while the altar 
 on which he had been sacrificing was broken in two. 
 His arm was afterward restored to its normal condi- 
 tion by the prophet. The latter, disobeying the 
 command of Yahweh to go home by another road, 
 was killed by a lion. 
 
 With the prophet Elijah, the age of miracle was 
 fully restored. He prophesied a great drought in 
 the land of Israel, then went and lived in a remote 
 part of the country, where ravens came regularly 
 twice a day, bringing him rations of bread and meat. 
 Then he went and lived in the house of a widow 
 who had but a handful of meal and a little bottle of 
 oil left to feed herself and her son; but, sharing 
 these with the prophet, they were miraculously re- 
 plenished, so that they lasted the three persons dur- 
 ing the whole period of the famine. Then the wid- 
 ow's son fell sick and died, but Elijah restored him 
 to life. So soon as rain came and the famine ceased, 
 Elijah summoned the prophets of Baal to a trial of 
 skill. They first, by his direction, built an altar, 
 whereon they laid wood for a fire, and on top of this 
 the carcass of a bullock. They then prayed to their 
 
MIRACLES AND MYTHS OF THE BIBLE 243 
 
 god to send down fire to burn the sacrifice, but no 
 fire came. Elijah then built an altar, and, having 
 piled wood and placed his bullock thereon, caused 
 twelve barrels of water to be poured over the whole. 
 Then he prayed to Yahweh, who sent down fire from 
 heaven, which not only devoured the sacrifice and 
 the wood, but also the stone altar, the very dust of 
 the ground, and licked up the twelve barrels of water, 
 which had run down into a trench prepared to re- 
 ceive it. He then commanded the people to slay all 
 the prophets of Baal (some four hundred and fifty 
 men), which they did. But Jezebel, the queen, was 
 angry at this, and threatened his life; whereupon, 
 he fled into the wilderness and lay down to die. He 
 fell asleep ; and finally an angel woke him, made a 
 fire, and baked bread for him. He slept again, and 
 the same thing was repeated. Then, in the strength 
 of those two meals, he walked forty days and forty 
 nights without food to Horeb, the mount of God ; 
 and here Yahweh appeared to him. First there was 
 a hurricane, which rent the mountains and broke the 
 rocks in pieces, then an earthquake, then fire ; and 
 at last " a still, small voice," which gave to him the 
 commandment of his God. He was instructed to 
 anoint a man named Elisha as his successor in the 
 office of prophet, which he did. Not long after this, 
 Elijah caused fire to come down from heaven and slay 
 two companies of fifty men each, with their captains, 
 who were sent to bring him before the king. This 
 is the last miracle of his recorded until the day of 
 his translation. 
 
244 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 Upon the day in question, he went in company 
 with Elisha to the river Jordan, and smote the water 
 with his mantle. The torrent thereupon instantly 
 divided, and the two passed over dry-shod. Then 
 a chariot and horses of flaming fire came down from 
 the sky, and, mounting this, he was carried up to 
 heaven in a whirlwind. His mantle fell from his 
 shoulders as he ascended, and rested on the ground. 
 This Elisha took, and on his return parted the 
 waters of the Jordan again, as his master had done. 
 
 Henceforth, the spirit of Elijah rested on Elisha. 
 When the latter reached Jericho, he found that the 
 water there was bad, and the ground barren. He 
 cured both by sprinkling a little salt, and also prom- 
 ised the people that there should be no more death. 
 He went from here to Bethel, where a number of 
 school-children came out of the city and mocked 
 him. In return, he cursed them, whereupon two 
 bears came out of the woods and killed forty-two of 
 them. On another occasion, by a miracle, he filled 
 a valley with water, when there was no rain or ap- 
 parent source of supply. He took pity on a poor 
 widow who was in debt, and caused a small pot of 
 oil which she had in the house to overflow and fill 
 every utensil which she possessed, and all that she 
 could borrow from the neighbors. He then directed 
 her to sell the oil, pay her debts, and live in comfort 
 on the rest. The child of another woman who 
 lodged him in her house fell ill and died, whereupon 
 Elisha restored it to life. He cured the poison in 
 a potful of herbs, by casting in a little meal, and 
 
MIRACLES AND MYTHS OF THE BIBLE 24S 
 
 fed a company of one hundred men with twenty 
 barley-cakes and a bag of bruised wheat, so that all 
 had enough, and some was left over. He cured 
 Naaman, the Syrian, of leprosy, without even seeing 
 him, by having him wash seven times in the river 
 Jordan, and punished his own servant Gehazi with the 
 very same disease, for disobedience. He caused an 
 axe-head, which fell accidentally into the river, to float 
 upon the surface of the water. He smote the whole _ 
 army of the king of Syria with blindness, and then 
 led them as one man captive to the king of Israel. 
 At the same time, he showed his servant a heavenly 
 host of horses and chariots of fire, which surrounded 
 him on every side, waiting to do his bidding. This 
 was the last miracle of Elisha's life; but even his 
 corpse had virtue. Some time after his death, a 
 funeral was in progress, and, being interrupted by 
 enemies, the mourners threw the dead body hastily 
 into the prophet's tomb, which stood open. In fall- 
 ing, it touched Elisha's dry bones, and was straight- 
 way restored to life. 
 
 Elisha was the last great miracle-worker in Israel ; 
 yet wonders did not wholly cease with him. Thus, 
 when the Assyrians under Sennacherib invaded the 
 land, the prophet Isaiah foretold their destruction, 
 and, in fulfilment of the prophecy, an angel de- 
 scended and in one night slew one hundred and 
 eighty-five thousand men. Then Hezekiah, king of 
 Judah, fell sick, and was about to die, but in conse- 
 quence of prayer had his life prolonged. As a sign 
 of this, Isaiah caused the sun to go backward ten 
 degrees. 
 
246 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 This is the last miracle of importance recorded for 
 a period of nearly six hundred years. Then, in the 
 Book of Daniel (written, probably, about the year 
 1 50 B.C.), we are told how three pious Jews, Shadrach, 
 Meshach, and Abednego, were cast into a great fiery 
 furnace by Nebuchadnezzar, the king of Babylon, be- 
 cause they refused to worship a golden image which 
 he had erected as the god of Babylon. But, though 
 special pains were taken to heat the furnace to such 
 a fearful temperature that the fire killed the men 
 who cast them in, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego 
 walked unharmed inside ; and, when they were taken 
 out after a considerable lapse of time, not even a hair 
 of their heads had been singed, nor could the smell 
 of fire be detected on their clothing. Belshazzar 
 (Nebuchadnezzar's son) made a great feast one 
 night, and sat drinking with his courtiers out of the 
 golden vessels taken from the temple of Yahweh at 
 Jerusalem. Suddenly there appeared upon the wall 
 a shadowy hand, which wrote several words in a 
 strange tongue. None of the king's soothsayers 
 could translate them ; but, the Hebrew prophet Dan- 
 iel being sent for, he at once made known their 
 import. That night, Belshazzar was slain by the 
 Medes, who captured the city, as Daniel had foretold. 
 Darius, their king, made Daniel chief ruler of the 
 kingdom, but later was persuaded by some of the 
 other princes to cast him to the lions. But Yahweh 
 sealed up their mouths, so that they could not hurt 
 him; and he escaped uninjured, after passing a whole 
 night in their midst. The angel Gabriel also waited 
 
MIRACLES AND MYTHS OF THE BIBLE 247 
 
 upon him constantly in the form of a man, and inter- 
 preted his dreams for him. After Daniel, there were 
 many other prophets who foretold events, but none 
 of them seem to have been miracle-workers. Jonah, 
 however, passed through many adventures on his 
 journey to Nineveh, being swallowed by a great fish, 
 which carried him in its stomach for three days and 
 three nights, and then vomited him out upon the dry 
 land. After preaching to the people and converting 
 them, he was so angry to think that their repent- 
 ance was going to save them from destruction that 
 he wished to die ; but Yahweh reproved him by 
 means of a palm-tree, which grew up beside him in 
 a single night, so that he rested in its shadow, but 
 perished the next day, and left him as before, ex- 
 posed to the burning sun. 
 
 Such are the stories recorded in our Old Testa- 
 ment ; and, in Jesus' times, these stories were be- 
 lieved by the Jewish people to be the record of 
 actual historical facts. So, the school-children 
 were required to commit them to memory as the 
 principal part of their education; and, without 
 any doubt, Jesus did so during his school-days. 
 With ideas like these constantly impressed upon 
 their minds, is it any wonder that the people were 
 unpractical, visionary, with an insatiable appetite 
 for the marvellous, and ready to believe anything, 
 the more wonderful the better ? We find in these 
 accounts only legends, myths, and allegories such 
 as we find also in the Arabian Nights, Grecian 
 mythology, and Bunyan's Pilgtim's Progress. 
 
248 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 Thus, the story of the Garden of Eden is a 
 legend by which the writer sought, in an imagi- 
 nary and poetic way, to account for the origin of 
 the universe, the existence of man, and the preva- 
 lence of evil. The history of Samson and his 
 mighty deeds is a myth or imaginary narrative con- 
 veying a hidden meaning. The name Samson sig- 
 nifies " sun-god," and the hero of the story is the 
 sun personified as a man. His long hair — wherein 
 lies his strength — is the sun's rays. Samson kills 
 a lion that attacks him; that is, the sun passes 
 through the sign of the Zodiac known as "the 
 Lion." Samson's famous riddle, "Out of the eater 
 came forth meat, and out of the strong came forth 
 sweetness," which he answered by showing how a 
 swarm of bees had made their home in the skele- 
 ton of the lion, means that, when the sun passes 
 through the constellation of the Lion, it is the 
 season for bees to make honey. The foxes, with 
 fire-brands tied to their tails, are the lurid thunder- 
 clouds shooting forth destructive lightnings. The 
 jaw-bone with which he slays a thousand men is 
 also a bank of ragged cloud, charged with death- 
 dealing lightning flashes ; but, after their fury is 
 past, cool rains fall from the cloud to quench man's 
 thirst, even as the water gushed from the jaw-bone 
 of the ass, in answer to Samson's prayer. And, 
 as Samson was robbed of his strength by the cut- 
 ting of his hair so that his enemies bound him 
 and tortured him, yet he finally recovered his 
 might and triumphed over them, so the sun in 
 
MIRACLES AND MYTHS OF THE BIBLE 249 
 
 winter gradually loses power and is shorn of his 
 beams, but with the return of spring arises in 
 majesty and destroys the ice and snow. This 
 whole myth dates from a time when the people 
 were sun-worshippers. 
 
 The story of Jonah is an allegory wherein the 
 writer expresses his belief that Yahweh will have 
 mercy not only on the Jewish people, but on the 
 heathen also ; therefore, the Jewish prophet Jonah is 
 sent to preach repentance to the Gentile city of Nin- 
 eveh. The narrowness of those who claimed that 
 only the Jews were regarded by Yahweh is rebuked 
 in the fable of the palm-tree. Yahweh is merciful. 
 If Jonah mourns for a plant which comes up in a 
 night and withers in a night, shall not Yahweh take 
 pity on the great city of Nineveh, — heathen though 
 it be, — in which were one hundred and twenty thou- 
 sand little children who could not tell their right 
 hand from their left ? 
 
 The account of Jonah's voyage — when he tries 
 to escape from Yahweh, but is overtaken by a storm, 
 is swallowed by the fish, and finally through prayer 
 is delivered — signifies simply that we cannot possibly 
 escape from God. "The eyes of the Lord are in 
 every place, beholding the evil and the good." 
 
 So you see that, when all these stories were writ- 
 ten, each had a meaning which was gradually lost. 
 Some were mere fanciful creations of the poets, 
 penned to amuse the people on a holiday or to 
 glorify some hero. Others were intended to teach 
 astronomical or other facts of nature in an easy. 
 
250 PULPIT UTTERANCES 
 
 pleasant way ; as we now teach our little ones in the 
 primary schools, telling them fairy tales of the black 
 giant steam, and what he does for us. Others again 
 were intended to impress some great moral lesson or 
 religious truth. Is it not a pity that the original 
 meanings were lost, and that the people came to 
 look upon all these accounts as veritable history of 
 actual occurrences ? Is it not a yet greater pity that 
 some intelligent people among us still look upon 
 them in the same light ?