SELECTED BY CHANCELLOR J. H. VINCENT, D.D.

[April 5.]

If we should stand amid the uncovered treasures which mark the site of ancient Nineveh or Babylon we would doubtless find in the objects, as they are this moment, very much to engage our most interested attention. We would regard with wonder and pleasure the specimens of beautiful architecture, the evidences of human skill and industry which modern exploration has disclosed to view. And yet, full of interest as such an occupation would be, we could not prevent our minds from engaging in another. Without any conscious exercise of will, our thought would revert to the day when these fallen structures stood in all their magnificence; when these halls, now filled with the sand of the desert, echoed to the strains of music and to the voices of the noblest and greatest of the land; when through these arches, now crumbling, armies marched gaily to battle, or returned in triumph, bearing the spoils of conquest. We would not be insensible to the value of the columns and capitals, the statuary and tablets before our eyes, and yet the very grandeur of these ruins would evoke the genius who would lead our thought by an irresistible constraint to look upon the prior vision of those cities in the day of their pristine perfection.

My friends, we do stand amid ruins. We walk day after day amid shattered greatness, in comparison with which the prized relics of Nineveh and Babylon, of Thebes, and Luxor,[1] and Troy, sink into insignificance. Far be it from me to underestimate the work of man, as we see him and know him to-day, or as we read of him in the records of the past. I am aware of what he is, and of what he has done. I am not insensible to his work, and yet I declare that man, great as he is—and he is great—is in certain respects not as great as he was. I mean that he is not what the progenitor of the race was. And viewed in comparison with that primitive condition—that condition at creation—man to-day, considered physically, intellectually, morally and spiritually, is a conspicuous instance of fallen grandeur—not worthless and valueless—far from that; but his perfection has departed; he is vastly inferior to what his great original was. Realizing this, we can not fail to revert in thought to that early day, and seek to see what the greatness was from which we have fallen.

Before, however, we attempt to look upon that picture, it will be necessary to establish and defend the theory of man’s condition and history upon this earth, with which it is inseparably connected.

A view of human history, which has been strongly advocated of late, is that our race began physically, intellectually, and morally at the lowest possible point. Some even maintain that the first men and women were but the latest and highest developments of certain species of brutes. But whether this phase of the theory of evolution be included in it or not, the essential idea of the view to which we refer is that the progenitors of our race were the lowest kind of savages, in their powers and capacities, their tastes and pursuits scarcely distinguishable from the brutes around them, and that from this low beginning men have gradually come to the height of attainment and improvement which they occupy to-day. If this theory be true, the statement which we have made, and which we proposed to consider, is false. If such were the origin of our race, if the first men and women were in all the parts of their nature but a shade removed above the brutes of the forest and the field, of course we of to-day are in no respect their inferiors—of course ours is not, as has been declared, a fallen race. We maintain, however, that the theory which makes our race begin in a condition of barbarism and imbecility is untrue. I know that it is supported by eminent names; I know, too, that it has been pressed upon public attention with much noisy and confident assertion; I know all this, and yet I declare that the theory is unproven; more, I declare that it is untrue.

Let us look at a few considerations which may shed the light of truth upon this matter of the primitive condition of mankind, and by this I mean the condition of those who succeeded Adam himself on the stage of the world’s history:

1. We all know how long, in families which have lost position or power, the memory of former greatness is cherished. You will find in your charitable institutions, in the depths of poverty, and, perhaps, of wickedness, those who will tell you by the hour of the fortunes of their house in remote days, of the distinction which some ancestor, far removed, conferred upon the name. Such memories are preserved with care, and transmitted from generation to generation, and they become more and more precious as the descendants themselves have less and less honor of their own. The same principle operates with nations and with the great tribes of men, particularly when they have themselves sunk so low that they are conscious of no ground of glorying in themselves. Now it is an instructive fact that the traditions of all nations have more or less reference to a golden age, from which men have fallen. This is true in India, in China, in Egypt, among our own Indians, among the inhabitants of Central and South America—wherever traditional knowledge is preserved. It is a vague memory—nevertheless a memory cherished by the race, handed down through the ages, not of an era when humanized monkeys rejoiced in their promotion, but of a golden age, when men as gods dwelt upon the earth. The only explanation of such a wide-spread tradition is that there must have been a fact corresponding to it; there must have been a substance to cast this shadow over so many generations. Those who hold that mankind began at the lowest point, can not satisfactorily account for this tradition of the race.

2. Not only tradition, but history sustains our position. If the true explanation of man’s condition to-day, in the civilized countries, is that he has gradually raised himself from a state of absolute barbarism, we certainly ought to have in the records of authentic history the account of at least one nation, which, as matter of fact, before the eyes of the world, has done the same thing. But no such instance can be found, not one of a people, entirely barbarous, lifting themselves unaided, to the higher plane of even a comparative civilization. Archbishop Whately[2] says: “We have no reason to believe that any community ever did or ever can, emerge, unassisted by external helps, from a state of barbarism unto anything that can be called civilization.” And we may follow the course of civilization from our own land back to western Europe, from western Europe to Italy, from Italy to Greece, from Greece to Egypt and the farther East, and still, as far as history takes us we see the barren portions of the earth continuing to be barren—continuing to bear only the wild fruits of barbarism, until the stream of knowledge, and culture, and civilization, is led to it from some other place. And that stream may be followed all the way back to the beginning of authentic secular history, and in no one instance does the dry ground yield fruit and flower of itself. We maintain that the vivifying stream began to flow because there was in the beginning, in the East, a fountain filled by God himself. Or, leaving the language of allegory, we assert that if our race was utterly barbarous at the beginning, it never would have risen from its barbarism, and authentic history can not adduce a single instance of a nation rising unaided from barbarism to overthrow this position. Mankind, therefore, did not begin at the lowest point, or, judged by all the analogy of history, it would be there still.

3. Again, the records, outside of the Bible, which have come down to us from early times, are few and imperfect, but the oldest of those which do remain indicate the existence of nations in a high state of civilization in the earliest periods of human history. In Egypt, China, Chaldea, these earliest records, whether monumental or written, bear evidence, not of universal barbarism in the previous ages, but of powerful and enlightened nationalities. Such a state of things is inconsistent with the theory which makes the history of our race a gradual development from a brutal and degraded beginning.

4. Still further, the science of paleontology comes forward to prove the same thing. There have been found in Belgium and in France, some human skulls and skeletons, unquestionably of very great antiquity. Concerning them one of the most competent of human judges, Principal Dawson, of McGill University, Canada, says: “These skulls are probably the oldest known in the world.” But what sort of men do they indicate as living at that remote day? “They all represent,” he says, “a race of grand, physical development, and of cranial capacity equal to that of the average modern European.” Further he says: “They indicate also that man’s earlier state was the best, that he had been a high and noble creature before he became a savage. It is not conceivable that their great development of brain and mind could have spontaneously engrafted itself on a mere brutal and savage life. These gifts must be remnants of a noble organization, degraded by moral evil. They thus justify the tradition of a golden and Edenic age, and mutely protest against the philosophy of progressive development, as applied to man.” Again, he concludes from a careful study of these remains: “The condition, habits and structure of PalÆocosmic[3] men correspond with the idea that they may be rude and barbarous offshoots of more cultivated tribes, and therefore realize, as much as such remains can, the Bible history of the fall and dispersion of antediluvian men. We need not suppose that Adam of the Bible was precisely like the old man of Cromagnon.[4] Rather may this man represent that fallen yet magnificent race which filled the antediluvian earth with violence, and probably the more scattered and wandering tribes of that race, rather than its greater and more cultivated nations.”—Nature and the Bible, pp. 174-179.

5. In addition to these arguments from tradition and history, and monumental and written records, and an actual study of human remains, which experts pronounce to be older, probably, than the flood, we have evidence within ourselves. We are not unfamiliar with stories of children of noble, perhaps of royal, descent, who have been abducted and brought up among people of low tastes and habits. But ever and anon, in gesture or inclination or bent of life, the blood shows itself, and to an attentive eye tells of the gentler and loftier sphere from which it came. So with us. Our consciousness reveals within us remnants of a former greatness; aspirations which this world has never taught us, longings for peace and purity which we feel we ought to have, but which we know this world never imparts. These things are the impress of the joys of that golden age which all these centuries have been powerless to erase from the souls of Adam’s sons. Morally, we know we are not what we ought to be; we are conscious of our degradation. As regards intellect, we retain powers which have, indeed, accomplished marvelous results; and yet, let some abnormal stimulus affect the brain—whether it be that produced by sudden excitement or passion, or that caused by powerful artificial agencies, and we see flashes of power yet in reserve which intimate what this wondrous human mind may once have been. And physically, our frail bodies, quickly tired and quickly crumbling to dust, tell us daily that here, at least, the theory of development from imperfection to perfection has signally failed.

[April 12.]

From these considerations we deem it evident that the theory of man’s development from a primitive condition of barbarism is untrue. The various glimpses which we have been able to obtain of the early ages reveal man as in an advanced condition. To all this the representations of the Bible correspond. It is not the design of the inspired volume to give a minute description of the customs, habits, knowledge, employments of the nations of the world. All that it says upon these subjects is incidental, yet no one in reading its accounts of those early times, and of the people then living, could possibly imagine that the men and women of whom it speaks were such as the rude Hottentot or the savage Caffre of to-day. The picture of man in the primitive times drawn from the Bible, is the same as that which is drawn from all these other sources; a being of physical and intellectual power; not a savage, not a barbarian, but an enlightened, capable, efficient man. How much he knew, how much he could accomplish, what acquaintance he had with the forces of nature, which we are now beginning to understand, must be matters of conjecture. Sin had commenced its blighting work, but we must remember that man in those early days had inherited from the first man splendid powers, and probably varied and extensive knowledge. His physical strength and his length of days were still great, and doubtless in all respects, save morally and spiritually, he was even yet a magnificent creature, and a power upon the earth.

Still, this was not the point which, in this discussion, we wished to reach. All this was the greatness of man after he had begun to deteriorate, after the poison of sin had begun to do its certain and terrible work. This vision of primitive man in his physical and intellectual strength is the splendor which abides a little while in the sky after the sun has set. Nevertheless, the sun had set, and there is a world-wide difference between this picture and that unto which we would lead you—the picture of that sun in its glory—the picture of unfallen man—the first man—the perfect man. Now let us look upon it. The long ages of preparation have rolled away and the earth is a garden of loveliness. Upon the splendors of its landscapes, the beauty of its lakes, the grandeur of its mountains and oceans, the sun looked down from his pavilion in the sky by day, and the moon and the stars by night. The magnificent domain waited in harmony and beauty for its inhabitants, “And God said, let us make man in our image, after our likeness.” “So God created man in his own image: in the image of God created he him.” “And God saw everything that he had made, and behold it was very good.”

In the place of honor and dominion in that waiting world of beauty, enthrone a being who shall be the counterpart of those words of infallible description—a man, made in the image of God, and receiving the unqualified commendation of his divine Creator. We may, without danger of mistake, consider him to have been physically a being of magnificent stature, and of matchless perfection of feature and form, with a body ignorant of weakness or disease, free from the seeds of sickness and of death. That a change would afterward have been necessary to fit his body of flesh and blood for its immortality is possible, but such change would not have been what we understand by death. Age would not have brought infirmity to him. Nature would have had no debt to pay to the grave.

Enshrined in this perfect body as in a glorious temple was a mind corresponding, doubtless, in excellence to its habitation and to the terms which describe its creation. Intellectually as well as morally, he was created in the image of God. He was possessed of reason and of actual knowledge. When the various classes of animals were passed in review before him, he had such an apprehension of their distinctive characteristics as to be able to give to them all appropriate names. And as he knew thus much of nature, how shall we limit his familiarity with her mysteries? And what shall we say of the powers of discernment, of intuition, of memory, of judgment, of the facility in working, of the unwearied and the unending delights and achievements of a mind made in the image of God, and not yet marred or weakened by sin!

But the crowning glory of that first man, that which marks his distance from us more than any physical or intellectual superiority, is that in his moral and spiritual nature he bore a likeness to his divine Creator. This being, whose body knew no imperfection, whose mind was rich in its possessions, and mighty in its power to acquire and enjoy every kind of truth, was holy. No thought arose in that heart which could not be published in heaven—none which could mantle his cheek with the blush of shame, or cause his manly eye to drop in consciousness of wrong, or make a ripple of disquiet in the sea of perfect peace which filled his soul. His thoughts were God’s thoughts. His loves, his wishes, his purposes, in harmony with God’s, ascended and descended like the angels Jacob saw, in perfect and blessed communion between heaven and earth, and earth was heaven begun. Of this world, with its abounding life, he was the acknowledged king. Within him was the consciousness of peace, and joy, and immortality. All about him was beauty, and amid the glories of his Eden home, God himself condescended to walk with him and be his friend.

Such is a faint outline of the picture on which I would have you look—the picture of man as he was in the beginning. Does not the sight justify the assertion that we are a fallen race? Does it not confirm the teaching of our text, that “God hath made man upright, but they have sought out many inventions?”

I need not delay to prove that this picture is not a representation of our present condition. Think of these frail physical existences, begun with a cry, continued in pain and weakness, and extended with difficulty to their three score years and ten. Think of the ages through which the intellect of the most favored portion of the world has been struggling to its present attainments. Think particularly of the moral and spiritual condition of the race, in comparison with that heavenly vision of Godlikeness which stands at the beginning of our history. I need not delay then to prove that mankind has fallen. I will, however, ask you to remember when you reflect upon the sad disorders of the present state, upon the sorrows and weaknesses and wickednesses of men to-day, that God did not thus create the progenitors of the race. If we see ruins about us and within us, let us remember that the temple as it was fashioned by the supreme architect was perfect. Let us remember also the real and only cause of this terrible catastrophe. It was sin—sin that always has ruined and always will destroy the beautiful, the pure, the true. Men did indeed go from that height of exaltation into the depths of barbarism; it is true enough that the pages of remote history show us men living in caves, and almost reduced to the level of the brutes—and sin led them there! Men did lose the moral beauty of our first parent; they did lose much of the intellectual and physical strength which lingered for a season in his immediate descendants—and sin was the despoiler that remorselessly stripped from them those glorious robes! You and I might have been as Adam—ignorant of sorrow and of suffering, and the world still an Eden about us, but sin has cast us down.

But let us remember also, with infinite gratitude and hope, as we look upon that picture of primeval perfection which we have sought to restore, that that condition may be regained. The crumbled arches, the fallen walls, the shattered foundations of Nineveh’s or Babylon’s palaces can never by any human skill be made to reproduce the glory that has departed, and yet the temple of man’s Eden estate, though cast down with a more fearful destruction, can be restored! Yea, made more glorious than it was before, and established upon a foundation, so that through the eternal ages it can never again be moved! Thanks be unto God, this is possible to us. Jesus Christ has come from heaven and has undertaken the accomplishment of the stupendous task. Jesus Christ has promised to effect it for every one who will yield to his influences. And he can do it, for he is the Savior, he is the Redeemer, the buyer-back of that which was lost, and of nations and of regions as well as of individual souls. … His spirit is the inspiration of the life which here is lived. That is enough to lift up any place or any people. And just as certainly will it lift up any human soul. Just as certainly will it redeem it from the consequences of the race’s fall. Not in this life, indeed, may we expect to have again the perfection of power and the freedom from sorrow which our first parent had; but the work of bringing men back to all the blessedness which Adam enjoyed, with new elements of blessing added, will be done—yea, it is even now going on, through the power of an indwelling Christ in souls that are here to-day. Let us all take the loving and mighty hand which is extended for our uplifting; let us seek our birthright, and though, through the first Adam our Paradise was lost, let us yield ourselves to the second Adam, by whom a better Paradise shall be regained.—The Rev. Dr. E. D. Ledyard.

[April 19.]

Monarchs reign, but their dominion is merely external. They do not and can not enter into the realm of the soul; but “there is another king, one Jesus,” whose right it is to sit enthroned in every heart, to direct every conscience, and to have dominion over every thought and action. Have you given him the sovereignty of yourself?

Sin reigns, and that king, alas! holds sway in many—I ought to say in the vast majority of human souls. But he is an usurper; for “there is another king, one Jesus,” who is the rightful lord of the heart. Under which king are you? He who repudiates the royalty of Jesus over him is guilty of treason against the majesty of heaven, and is but courting his destruction.

Death reigns, and day by day he is sweeping in new multitudes into his silent realm. The mightiest and the meanest alike must yield to him who is the terror of kings, no less than he is the king of terrors. At one time he rides on the hurricane, and dashes the laboring vessel and the freighted souls within her on the roaring reef; at another he drives through the city streets riding on his pestilential car, and spreads desolation round him. Now he careers upon the boiling flood, and sweeps whole villages before him into swift destruction; and again he leaps in the lightning-flash upon some devoted building, and kindles a conflagration that burns many in its flames. He laughs at men’s efforts to elude his grasp; and as we look upon the settled countenance of the loved one whom we are preparing to lay in the grave, we are almost compelled to own him conqueror. But no! “there is another king, one Jesus,” who is “the Resurrection and the Life,” and “who hath abolished death and brought life and immortality to light by the Gospel.” Let us, then, be undismayed by this last enemy. He is a vanquished foe. Our Lord Jesus has gone into his domain, and having conquered him there, has brought him back with him to his palace, to be there the page who opens the door for his friends into the chamber of his presence. Yes! as we stand by the remains of our Christian dead, and under the influence of sight are moved to speak of Death as king, we recall in another sense than they were meant, but in a sense which faith recognizes as true, the words “There is another king, one Jesus.”

Paradoxical as it may seem, these two things always go together. Where Christ is owned as the sole sovereign, there his service is perfect freedom; but where his supremacy is either ignored or given to another, there comes the slavery of superstition, or the tyranny of priestcraft, or the cold domination of philosophy, and it is hard to say which of these is the most degrading.—W. M. Taylor.

[April 26.]

He who would preach the Gospel with power must be himself a believer in the Lord. The secret of true, heart-stirring eloquence in the pulpit is, next after the power of the Holy Ghost, that which the French AbbÉ has very happily called “the accent of conviction” in the speaker. Behind every appeal that Paul made to sinners, there was the memory of that wonderful experience through which he passed on the way to Damascus; and therefore we are not surprised that he so preached as either to secure men’s faith or to rouse their antagonism. But his conversion alone, without his Arabian revelations, would not have made him the apostle he became. In the desert he met his Lord, and received from him many important spiritual communications. There, too, he meditated on the truths revealed to him, and poured out his heart in prayer for a thorough understanding of their meaning and a full realization of their power. Thus he came back to Damascus, if not with a face glowing like that of Moses when he descended from Sinai, at least with a heart filled and fired with love to Him who had there unfolded to him the mysteries of the Gospel. Now, what Paul thus received from the Lord has been given to us by evangelists and apostles in the New Testament Scriptures. Our Arabia, therefore, will be the study and the closet in which we pore over these precious pages, and seek to comprehend their many sided significance, as well as to imbibe the spirit by which they are pervaded. He who would preach to others must be much alone with his Bible and his Lord; else when he appears before his people, he will send them to sleep with his pointless platitudes, or starve them with his empty conceits. Get you to Arabia, then, ye who would become the instructors of your fellowmen! Get you to the closet and the study! Give your days and nights to the investigation of this book; and let everything you produce from it be made to glow with white heat in the forge of your own heart, and be hammered on the anvil of your own experience!—W. M. Taylor.