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broken his most holy law and God justly consigns him to eternal torments; and it is only by an exercise of his infinite mercy that a way of escape has been provided. So much Orthodoxy assumes. It is evidently false; for nothing can be more unjust or unreasonable. All men sin everywhere, and have always done so it is therefore evident that wrong-doing is inevitable. What God could punish men, and, above all, eternally punish them, for doing what, in the nature of things (and these he had himself made), all of them must do? Tie up your boy's legs, and flog him till his back is gory, because he does not run six miles an hour; keep him without food for three days, and then kill him because he steals a crust from your pantry, and you are a kind, considerate parent, compared to a God who makes men with a strong disposition to do wrong, permits a Devil to tempt them, and then annexes the penalty of eternal damnation to the crime of wrong-doing.

God is angry with the sinner: the wrath of his indignation boils. With the sword of vengeance in his hand, he is ready to strike the fatal blow. Just as the glittering blade is about to descend, the innocent Jesus appears on the stage. "Spare, oh, spare the sinner!" says Jesus. "Only on one condition." "Name it,” says Jesus.

“Thou must die in his stead, or my justice can never be satisfied." "I will let the blow descend." God plunges the sword of his justice into the heart of Jesus, and then receives the sinner to his bosom graciously; and he goes on his way, singing,

"Jesus has paid the debt we owe,

And God is satisfied."

To save man by such a plan, supposing it to be possible, is to sink him in meanness and degradation. So instinctively do men scorn it, that mesmeric excitements, under the name of revivals of religion, are got up to overcome this natural repugnance. We have sinned, — such is the doctrine, and are justly sub ject to punishment; but an innocent being offers to bear the penalty, if we will believe in him, accept him, and bow down to him. "No, thank you, Jesus, no! I much prefer to bear the consequences of my own transgressions, that I may learn the lesson from them that nature inculcates, and whose tendency is to make me wiser and better. There may be men who wish to dodge the consequences of their deeds: they may accept your offer; but I cannot, still less if, in accepting it, I am at the same time to accept of you as my master." If to hell I must go, I will go a free man, and with that sense of manhood that must transform the pit of perdition into paradise.

I charge this doctrine with being not only false, but dreadfully pernicious. If Jesus bears away the consequences of our guilt, takes our place, washes us in his blood, so that, though black as ink, we can in an instant be made white as snow, why should we struggle. for purity? why should we wrestle with temptations daily, and strive earnestly to live lives in harmony with our ideal of manhood? Faith in Jesus must be of infinitely more importance than faithfulness to principle: to obtain the cloak of his righteousness, and skulk under it, and be credited with the merit that belongs to another, becomes much more important than to live a righteous life; and thus the Church, by its acceptance

of this doctrine, makes men satisfied with a tenth-rate morality, and puts off the day of the world's redemption.

What, then, shall we do to be saved? Evils are around us like mosquitoes in July: like bloodhounds, whose scent can never be baffled, they dog our footsteps. Not a soul but needs salvation from them: how shall it be obtained? Let us see what has saved us in

times past.

Once, man trod the wild, a naked savage. The sun scorched him by day, and the cold wind chilled him as he lay on the branches of a tree at night. The sleet fell upon his bare breast, and, melting, ran in streams to his feet. He searched the woods for wild fruit, and dined on acorns, crab-apples, wild plums, and chestnuts, or roots that he scratched out of the ground. At times, he outran the wild rabbit, sucked its warm blood, and ate its quivering flesh, nor thought of better fare. What saved him from this pitiable condition? What taught him to build a house, clothe himself with befitting garments, and thus bid defiance to the elements? Nature, that brought man into existence, did not launch him on the ocean of life without a pilot or charts, merely promising to supply them at some future time. She did not send Jesus with a beacon-light four thousand years afterwards, and make the success of millions of vessels depend upon their ability to see what to most of them in the nature of things was invisible. The first man carried his savior in his soul, and no man since has ever been destitute; and just in proportion as men have attended to this savior have they been delivered from evil, saved from sin and suf

fering, and led into truth and right, and the heaven that invariably accompanies them. By using his mental powers, man learned to spin and weave, and make for himself garments for all seasons and all weather: it was thus he learned to fashion the wooden club, the hammer and axe of stone, then of bronze, and, lastly, of steel, to fell the trees, to dig the stone, to burn the lime, and rear his household home; and, in process of ages numerous, the naked, houseless savage was transformed into artistic man. And all this long before Adam rose or fell, before the snake was cursed, or the Bible Saviour promised.

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In the times of old, man wearily wandered over the earth if he wished to go a hundred miles, every step had to be taken by his own feet. He climbed the rugged mountain-steeps, waded or swam the streams, threaded his way through the wilderness, and with bleeding feet and exhausted body arrived at his destination. He saw the wild steed; and increasing intelligence taught him its use: with a stem of a vine for a bridle, he mounted, and with exultant spirit bounded the country over. As his intelligence further increased, he levelled the hills, filled the valleys, bridged the streams, united distant lands by highroads and railroads, over which flies the locomotive, outstripping the eagle in its flight.

Where we now assemble, and hundreds of thousands find ample subsistence, a hundred savages would have starved three hundred years ago. Take a glance backward, and view this region as it was. The beasts of the chase have fled; deep snow covers the ground, and hunger dwells in every miserable hut; hollow-eyed

men and women look into the wan faces of their famishing children, who vainly cry for food; the last bone is picked, the last scrap of skin roasted and eaten: death calls them one by one, and with returning spring the prowling wolves pick their bones. What saves us from such a fate to-day? Our increased intelligence. This taught us to plough, to sow, to reap; and over our broad land waves bread for a world. The salvation of Orthodoxy never produced a blade of grass nor a grain of wheat it is as powerless to stay the hunger of the savage as it is to quench the deep thirst of the enlightened soul.

Ignorance once covered the land like a pall, and Nature's preachers discoursed for ages to deaf souls. The thought, as it slowly rounded itself in man's brain, had no power of projection from the mind that gave it birth, but lay there shrouded, and died with its possessor. By the development of his inherent nature, man grew into speech, formed signs for sound, shaped the reed, and then the feather that dropped from a passing bird's wing; from the waving flag by the river-side first, and then from a nation's tatters, brought forth paper, and made the wisdom of one the property of the many. He ransacked the sunless caves, and brought to light the iron and the lead, and formed the printing-press,the multiplier of thought, the long-wished-for lever that moves the world.

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In his infancy man was terrified by eclipses that swallowed the day, and comets whose fiery hair streamed over the evening sky, and portended to him most fearful calamities. He saw in storms, tornadoes, volcanoes, and earthquakes the presence of angry gods

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