Infidels Live In Doubting Castle.

Having shown that no man in his senses can be an atheist, unless he assume that he comprehends the universe in his mind, with all its abstract essences and principles, which assumption would be to make himself omnipresent and eternal, a god in fact; and having seen that the proposition of the divine existence and perfections is demonstrable from the universe, as far as it is known in all its general laws and in all its parts, we proceed from these prefatory considerations to other matters still more intimately introductory to our design.

It is essentially preliminary to a clear and forcible display of the reasonableness and certainty of our faith in Jesus Christ as the author of immortality to man, that we ascertain the proper ground on which the modern skeptic, of whatever creed, stands when he avows his opposition to the gospel. That we may duly estimate the strength of his opposition, we must not only enumerate his objections or arguments, but we must exactly ascertain the exact position which he occupies. Does he stand within a fortified castle, or in the open field? Presents he himself to our view in a stronghold, well garrisoned with the invincible forces of logic, of science, [pg 175] and of fact? or defies he armies and the artillery of light, relying wholly upon himself, his own experience, without a shield, without an ally, without science, without history, and consequently a single fact to oppose?

That we may, then, truly and certainly ascertain his precise attitude, before we directly address him, we shall accurately survey his whole premises. Does he say that he knows the gospel to be false? No, he can not; for he was not in Judea in the days of the evangelical drama. He, therefore, could not test the miracles, or sensible demonstrations, by any of his senses; nor prove to himself that Jesus rose not from the dead. Speaking in accordance with the evidence of sense, of consciousness, and of experience, he can not say that he knows the gospel to be a cunningly devised fable. He has not, then, in all his premises knowledge, in its true and proper meaning, to oppose to the Christian's faith or hope. What remains?

Can he say, in truth, that he believes the gospel to be false? He can not; because belief without testimony is impossible; and testimony that the gospel facts did not occur is not found extant on earth in any language or nation under heaven. No contemporaneous opposing testimony has ever been heard of, except in one instance, the sleeping and incredible testimony of the Roman guard, which has a lie stamped indelibly on its forehead: “His disciples stole his dead body while we were asleep.” He that can believe this is not to be reasoned with. We repeat it with emphasis, that no living man can say, according to the English Dictionary, that he believes the gospel to be false.

Alike destitute of knowledge and of faith to oppose to the testimony of apostles, prophets, and myriads of contemporaneous witnesses, what has the skeptic to present against the numerous and diversified evidences of the gospel? Nothing in the universe but his doubts. He can, in strict conformity to language and fact, only say, he doubts whether it be true. He is, then, legitimately no more than an inmate of Doubting Castle. His fortification is built up of doubts and misgivings, [pg 176] cemented by antipathy. Farther than this the powers of nature and of reason can not go.

How far these doubts are rational, scientific, and modest, may yet appear in the sequel; meanwhile, we only survey the premises which the infidel occupies, and the forces he has to bring into the action. These, may we not say, are already logically ascertained to be an army of doubts only.

Some talk of the immodesty, others of the folly, others of the maliciousness of the unbeliever; but not to deal in harsh or uncourteous epithets, may we not say, that it is most unphilosophic to dogmatize against the gospel on the slender grounds of sheer dubiety. No man, deserving the name of a philosopher, can ever appear among the crusading forces of pamphleteers and declaimers against the faith of Christians, for two of the best reasons in the world; he has nothing better to substitute for the motives, the restraining fears to the wicked, and the animating hopes to the righteous, which the gospel tenders; and he has nothing to oppose to its claims but the weakness and uncertainty of his doubts. Franklin was a philosopher, but Paine was a madman. The former doubted, but never dogmatized—never opposed the gospel, but always discountenanced and discouraged the infidel; the latter gave to his doubts the authority of oracles, and madly attempted to silence the Christian's artillery by the licentious scoffings of the most extravagant and unreasonable skepticism.

Modesty is the legitimate daughter of true philosophy; but dogmatism, unless the offspring of infallible authority, is the ill-bred child of ignorance and arrogance. Every man, then, who seeks to make proselytes to his skepticism by converting his doubts into arguments, is anything but a philosopher or a philanthropist.

One of the most alarming signs of this age is the ignorance and recklessness of the youthful assailants of the Bible. Our cities, villages and public places of resort are thronged with swarms of these Lilliputian volunteers in the cause of skepticism. Apprenticed striplings, and sprigs of law and physic, whose whole reading of standard authors on general [pg 177] science, religion, or morality, in ordinary duodecimo, equals not the years of their unfinished, or just completed minority, imagine that they have got far in advance of the vulgar herd, and are both philosophers and gentlemen if they have learned at second hand, a few scoffs and sneers at the Bible, from Paine, Voltaire, Bolingbroke, or Hume. One would think, could he listen to their impudence, that Bacon, Newton, Locke, and all the great masters of science, were very pigmies, and that they themselves were sturdy giants of extraordinary stature in all that is intellectual, philosophic and learned. These would-be baby demagogues are a public nuisance to society, whose atheistic breath not unfrequently pollutes the whole atmosphere around them, and issues in a moral pestilence among that class who regard a fine hat and a cigar as the infallible criteria of a gentleman and scholar.

These creatures have not sense enough to doubt, nor to think sedately on any subject; and therefore, we only notice them while defining the ground occupied by the unbelievers of this generation. They prudently call themselves skeptics, but imprudently carry their opposition to the Bible, beyond all the bounds embraced in their own definitions of skepticism. A skeptic can only doubt, never oppugn the gospel. He becomes an atheist, or an infidel, bold and dogmatic, as soon as he opens his mouth against the Bible.

Were we philosophically to class society as it now exists in this country in reference to the gospel, we should have believers, unbelievers, and skeptics. We would find some who have voluntarily received the apostolic testimony as true; others who have rejected it as false; and a third class who simply doubt, and neither receive nor reject it as a communication from heaven. But, though, unbelievers, while they call themselves skeptics, often wage actual war against the faith and hope of Christians, still their actual rejection of the gospel has no other foundation than pure aversion to its restraints and some doubts as to its authenticity. The quagmire of their own doubts, be it distinctly remembered, is the sole ground occupied by all the opponents of the gospel, whether they style themselves antitheists, atheists, theists, unbelievers, or skeptics.—Alexander Campbell, in 1835.

Infidelity, And The French And American Revolutions In Their Relations To Thomas Paine.

Infidels can not free themselves from the bands which tie the universe to its God. Every effort has been fruitless. Not one writer among all their hosts has been lucky enough to avoid the use of Christian terms that are in direct antagonism with their speculation and positions. It will be interesting to review, occasionally, their literature.

Speaking of Thomas Paine, Mr. Ingersoll says: “Every American with the divine mantle of charity, should cover all his faults.” What use has Col. Ingersoll or any other infidel for the word divine? The term is thus defined: Pertaining to the true God; (from the Latin divinus; from deus, a god) proceeding from God; appropriated to God; or celebrating His praise; excellent in the supreme degree; apparently above what is human; godlike; heavenly; holy; sacred; spiritual. As a noun: one versed in divine things or divinity; a theologian; a minister of the gospel; a priest; a clergyman. Zell's Encyclopedia.

Again, Mr. Ingersoll says, “Upon the head of his father, God had never poured the divine petroleum of authority.” So much the better for the race. What would infidels do if they had the authority? “Hume is called a model man, a man as nearly perfect as the nature of human frailty will permit.” He maintained that pleasure or profit is the test of morals; that “the lack of honesty is of a piece with the lack of strength of body;” that “suicide is lawful and commendable;” that “female infidelity, when known, is a small thing; when unknown, nothing;” “that adultery must be practiced if men would obtain all the advantages of this life; and that if generally practiced it would, in time, cease to be scandalous, and if practiced frequently and secretly would come to be thought no crime at all.”

The Struggle.

There are two different periods in the history of the race; in the history of a nation; in the history of the church; in the history of moral institutions, and in the history of families. In one the intellect predominates, governs; in the other the emotional nature, or passion, rules. The fatal day in the history of a nation is the day in which, through party strife or otherwise, a nation of people becomes a seething mass of heated passion. Such a nation is like a vessel tossed upon the waves above the falls of some mighty river, liable to be buried in the whirlpool of destruction. Men who are governed by their emotional nature are most liable to disappointments, to troubles, and difficulties of every kind. Select all the miserable families in your community, tell me where they are, and I will show you every family in which passion reigns.

Troubles are generally legitimate children of passion. Who has not heard some one say, repentingly, “If I had taken a second, sober thought I would not have done it.” Intellect belongs to our higher nature, and emotion belongs to our lower. Intelligence is always at a discount where the emotional nature governs—it is subordinated to passion. When the intellect governs, the emotional is subjected to thought; when either one predominates, the other is brought under and enslaved. These are the two conflicting elements in man's nature which are generally at war with each other, leading to different and antagonistic results. During the dark ages, which were ushered in through the repudiation of intelligence and the predominance of passion, the emotional reigned, and men were governed by their passions in religious as well as state affairs. The shadows of those ages still linger with some communities, and with many persons in almost all communities. Our fathers had a long and hard struggle in getting away from an emotional to an intellectual state, both [pg 189] in civil as well as religious affairs. To-day, if we consider this matter in connection with our people as a nation, we may safely say that we are in an intellectual period—mind predominates. This is an age of investigation. The time was, in the history of our fathers, when a man was fined fifty pounds of tobacco if he refused to have his innocent child christened. See the “old Blue Laws.” The time was when innocent persons were tried, condemned, and put to death for being, in the estimation of men, clothed with disgraceful ignorance, witches. Who has not heard of the “Salem witchcraft?”

The emotional nature of man, as a ruling sovereign, is losing its “legal-tender value” daily. The time was when it brought a premium in the most of the churches in our country. An aged father, who is now “across the river,” once said to me, “I was bewildered, and mentally lost for thirty years of my life.” I asked him for the facts. He, answering, said: “During all that period of time I was a church member, and, like some others, I was a quiet, still kind of a soul; I paid my honest debts; told the truth about my neighbors, and lived a moral life to the very best of my abilities. There were others of the same character. The preachers frequently called us Quakers—the Quakers were a very still people in those days. There were others who were reckless; would not always tell the truth, and would not always pay their honest debts, but they were, nevertheless, very noisy in the church, and the preacher always made most of those noisy fellows. Now,” said the aged father, “I never could understand that.” The old man lived to learn the secret, and changed his religious relations and began a new life in religion.

The scenes of the “Cane Ridge revival,” down in Kentucky, have not been repeated in all our country for more than twenty years, and it is probable that they never will be. There are many things in the past history of religion in our country that will never be repeated. Did you ever witness a panic in a large congregation of people? If you have, you may go with me to “Cane Ridge.” Before we start I wish to remind you of the fact that some of the most fearful panics known to [pg 190] men took place where, and when, there was no reason for them outside of existing ignorance. Fright or fear, coupled with ignorance, produced them. Now let us go to “Cane Ridge.” There we find the people in the emotional period in the history of religion. They are laboring under the conviction that Jehovah has concentrated all the powers of His Spirit at Cane Ridge—it is the common conviction. The people all over the country believe that God is there. The excitement runs high, and yet higher; it becomes contagious—a religious epidemic—the ruling element being the thought of the presence of the Divine Majesty, and the emotional nature of man the field of its operations. All the ignorance of a genuine panic is there. There were no well-informed unbelievers there to tear off the veil, nor better-informed Christians to remove it, not even so much as a Wesley to exonerate God by saying, “I am constrained to believe that it is the devil tearing them as they are coming to Christ.” No! There is one conviction at Cane Ridge—it is this: Jehovah is here. It was a wonderful panic—a wonderful time. Persons going on to the ground immediately fell down like dead men; got up with the jerks; barked like dogs. Women went backwards and forwards, making singular gestures; their heads were bobbing with the jerks, and their long hair cracking like whips. The scene was beyond description. The whole country flocked to the place, and all were confounded with amazement and astonishment.

If such operations were religion, our country has been without it for a long time. Then our old-fashioned camp-meetings—where are they? They are things of the past. I recollect leaving a camp-ground at a late hour of the night, just as the congregation divided up into groups, and the groups went out into the woods in different directions to engage in secret prayer. We heard them when we were three miles away—strange secret prayer! Do you know anything of that kind of secret prayer at the present time?

The common pulpit teaching of those times was wonderful(?), but it was the best they had. It was common for preachers to make war upon education. They often boasted of their ignorance. [pg 191] They claimed that education was not necessary to qualify a man for the pulpit. The best school teachers in our country received twelve and fifteen dollars per month for teaching, and boarded themselves. Teachers who now pay five dollars per week for board, can't see how those old teachers got along upon such wages. In those times it was very common for teachers to get their board for seventy-five cents per week. The farmers claimed that it was unnecessary to educate their daughters, and only necessary to educate their sons sufficiently well to enable them to keep their accounts. Beyond this it was often claimed that an education was of no value—that it only made rascals. I recollect a very zealous old man who preached for the German Baptists; he is now “across the waves.” Once, in my presence, he disposed of a grammatical argument that was put against him, by saying, “It is the wisdom of the world, and it is sensual and devilish.” It was common forty years ago for preachers to say, “I don't know what I shall say, but just as the Lord gives it to me I will hand it to you.” As a general thing those men knew no better, and the masses of the people knew no better. The people were living in an Emotional period, with the exception of a few brave thinkers, and they were governed by their emotions.

Prosperity grew with the growth of our country, and the standard of education was elevated. The free-school system took the place of the old-fashioned subscription schools, which were worth twelve dollars per month to the whole community, and the brave thinkers continued stirring up thought in religion, and giving the fathers and mothers trouble about this thing of confounding religion with passion, and our country is now fairly at sea in an Intellectual period. Religion is now a thing to be learned and lived—to be done. Those brave men who advocated an intelligent religion forty years ago, were denounced, from almost every pulpit in our country, as a set of “whitewashed infidels,” having no religion, and “without God in the world.”

But that day is past, and we are in a period in which mind [pg 192] generally predominates. The language of the emotional is seldom heard. In that period it was common to hear men ask: “How did you get religion?” “where did you get religion?” “where did you get religion?” “describe it;” “O I can't, it is better felt than expressed.” Such language was in keeping with a very common idea which was held sacred in those days. It was this, the Lord made general provision for the salvation of men, but He makes a special application to the sinner. Of course, all to whom salvation was not especially applied, were, in the estimation of those people, lost. There are a few communities yet that are away back in the emotional period. There are men and women in every community who are yet governed by their emotional nature in matters of religion. Those persons have no use for an intelligent, argumentative preacher. They want a preacher who will say smoothe things; and there is now and then a preacher who has no strength outside of the emotional.

We have an emotional nature. I am glad that we have. I would not be an intellectual wooden-man if I could. But if you say, the Almighty Father intended that we should be intellectually subordinated to our emotional nature, and therefore governed by our passions, or feelings, I shall deny it. He never intended that we should be governed by our passions. To-day there are strong intellects in unbelief flooding our country with their literature. How shall they be met? Mr. Moody says, “Show them that you are full of Jesus Christ and the Holy Ghost.” Very well. Can you do that without the truth? can you do that without word or wisdom? can you do it without “contending earnestly for the faith once delivered unto the saints?” In the days of Christ and His apostles the men who were full of the Holy Spirit had a mouth and wisdom which none of their adversaries were able to resist or gainsay. The antichrists of our day can not be met successfully without reason, without argument, without meeting the intellectual demands of the times.

There are intellectual men and women in almost every community throughout our country—men and women with whom [pg 193] intelligence governs—who want the whys and wherefores upon every subject. This class is on the increase at a rapid rate. It does no good to set ourselves against reason, and oppose the current of thought with our emotional nature. In that way we may succeed with those who are governed by their emotional nature, but the work, when it is done, is a work upon the passions, and will soon pass away, unless the intellect was at the same time enlisted. The men who stir the world with thought, and give intellectual cast to the age in which we live, are to be met with thought, met with reason, met with truths tried in the crucible.

Christianity has nothing to fear in the great struggle that is being carried on for the truth's sake. But it has lost much for want of investigation. Our free school and Sunday-school systems are making the rising generation better acquainted with both science and the Bible, and a thorough acquaintance with both is the one thing most needed in order to a better future in religion, as well as in every other human interest. The time is come when men will no longer be content to listen to grave errors and keep silence. Every truth is being put to the test of logic, as well as fact. It is natural to abhor a contradiction, and it is right. All truth is harmonious. I am glad that harmony is demanded in religious teaching; I often think of pulpit teaching away back thirty and forty years ago. It used to be very popular in some parts to tell people that they could do nothing to better their condition in a future state, and, at the same time, exhort them to do better.

I heard of three brothers, George, William and James. George and William were “Hard-shell Baptist” preachers; James made no profession. His wife was a member of George's congregation. She was a great “scold.” One day James failed to do just as she wished him, and, as a matter of course, he received quite a lecture; finally the woman told him that it was a great pity that he could not be a good man, like his brother George or brother William, and fell to exhorting him to do better. He finally became impatient and [pg 194] said, “Yes! George and William were too lazy to work, and I called them to preach. They both stood it until the third call, and then put on their hats and went. You belong to George's church, and I go there with you to hear him preach. He tells me that I can do nothing, and you tell me that I can do nothing; and, now, what in the h—l do you want me to do?” Such inconsistent teaching was always repugnant to common sense and natural reason. There are many persons yet teaching the old falsehood that man is passive in his conversion, notwithstanding the fact that men are imperatively commanded to convert—turn, that their sins may be blotted out. Men are yet found in some Protestant pulpits who spend a great deal of their time praying the Lord to convert sinners. It is often the case, in their own estimation, that the Lord gives no heed to their prayers; but this has happened so frequently that it does not seem to trouble them. It has been a very short time since I heard a minister advocating what he was pleased to call “miraculous conversion.” I thought, if you are right in that matter, why did the Heavenly Father command his love, commended in the Savior's death, preached to every creature, and still refuse to convert every creature? What difference does it make to me whether the Lord passed me by before He made Adam, or passed me by on yesterday? And if He refuses to send His spirit and convert me until the last, and I die in my sins and am lost, who is to blame? What is the difference between His neglect to convert me and the old Calvinistic idea that Christ did not die for me? What is the difference between the spirit of God being partial to communities—going into one and converting a great many persons and passing others by—and God Himself being partial? And why does the Spirit not convert all the unwilling sinners in the community where it does convert sinners? These are questions that have been asked in a great many hearts before they yielded themselves up to skepticism and infidelity.

In the present stage of critical investigation it is well for all preachers to remember that there is but one question involving [pg 195] this whole matter of conversion and pardon, and that is the question coupled with the Judgment; it is not, How much did the Heavenly Father love me? He loved all men. It is not, How much did Jesus do for me? He tasted death for every man. It is not, How much has the Spirit done for me? It gave the gospel to all nations, as the power of God unto salvation to every man that believeth. The one, and only, question in the Judgment is, What have I done for myself? What are the deeds done in my body? the deeds which I have done.

Christianity is right thinking and doing; all that is to be attained in the religion of Christ is enjoyed in an upright life. Every theory that conflicts with this grand sentiment is smoked with the darkness of the dark ages. The Father of Spirits made us with the power of choice—gave us the liberty to choose—and we all may have, in the future, just such a state as we will. The Father loved all; the Son died for all; and the Spirit says to all, come!

The great struggle that is now going on between Christianity and unbelief is accomplishing two good things: First, it is making it hard for professors of religion to hold their errors, or cover up hypocrisy; and second, it is making it hard for infidels and skeptics to hold on to their flimsy objections to the Christian religion. Let the struggle go on!

The Records Respecting The Death Of Thomas Paine.

That he bitterly regretted the writing and the publishing of the Age of Reason we have incontestable proof. During his last illness he asked a pious young woman, Mary Roscoe, a Quakeress, who frequently visited him, if she had ever read any of his writings, and being told that she had read very little of them he inquired what she thought of them, adding, “From such a one as you I expect a true answer.” She told him, when very young she had read his Age of Reason, but [pg 196] the more she read of it the more dark and distressed she felt, and she threw it into the fire. “I wish all had done as you,” he replied, “for if the devil ever had an agency in any work, he has had it in writing that book.”—Journal of Stephen Grellet, 1809.

Dr. Manley, who was with him during his last hours, in a letter to Cheetham, in 1809, writes: “He could not be left alone night or day. He not only required to have some person with him, but he must see that he or she was there, and if, as it would sometimes happen, he was left alone, he would scream and halloo until some person came to him. There was something remarkable in his conduct about this period, which comprises about two weeks immediately preceding his death. He would call out during his paroxysms of distress, without intermission, ‘O Lord, help me! God, help me! Jesus Christ, help me! O Lord, help me!’ etc., repeating the same expressions without the least variation, in a tone of voice that would alarm the house. It was this conduct which induced me to think that he abandoned his former opinions, and I was more inclined to that belief when I understood from his nurse, who is a very serious, and I believe pious woman, that he would occasionally inquire, when he saw her engaged with a book, what she was reading, and being answered, and at the same time asked whether she should read aloud, he assented, and would appear to give particular attention. The doctor asked him if he believed that Jesus Christ is the Son of God? After a pause of some minutes he replied, ‘I have no wish to believe on that subject.’ ‘For my own part,’ says the doctor, ‘I believe that had not Thomas Paine been such a distinguished infidel he would have left less equivocal evidences of a change of opinion.’ ”

The Roman Catholic Bishop, Fenwick, says: “A short time before Paine died I was sent for by him.” He was prompted to do this by a poor Catholic woman who went to see him in his sickness, and who told him if anybody could do him any good it was the Catholic priest. “I was accompanied by F. Kohlman, an intimate friend. We found him at a [pg 197] house in Greenwich, now Greenwich street, New York, where he lodged. A decent-looking, elderly woman came to the door, and inquired whether we were the Catholic priests; ‘for,’ said she, ‘Mr. Paine has been so much annoyed of late by other denominations calling upon him, that he has left express orders to admit no one but the clergymen of the Catholic church.’ Upon informing her who we were, she opened the door and showed us into the parlor. ‘Gentlemen,’ said the lady, ‘I really wish you may succeed with Mr. Paine, for he is laboring under great distress of mind every since he was told by his physicians that he can not possibly live, and must die shortly. He is truly to be pitied. His cries, when left alone, are heart-rending. “O Lord, help me!” he will exclaim during his paroxysms of distress: “God, help me! Jesus Christ, help me!” Repeating these expressions in a tone of voice that would alarm the house. Sometimes he will say, “O God, what have I done to suffer so much?” Then shortly after, “but there is no God,” then again, “yet if there should be, what would become of me hereafter?” Thus he will continue for some time, when, on a sudden, he will scream as if in terror and agony, and call for me by name. On one occasion I inquired what he wanted. “Stay with me,” he replied, “for God's sake, for I can not bear to be left alone.” I told him I could not always be in the room. “Then,” said he, “send even a child to stay with me, for it is a hell to be alone.” I never saw,’ she continued, ‘a more unhappy, a more forsaken man. It seems he can not reconcile himself to die.’

“Such was the conversation of the woman, who was a Protestant, and who seemed very desirous that we should afford him some relief in a state bordering on complete despair. Having remained some time in the parlor, we at length heard a noise in the adjoining room. We proposed to enter, which was assented to by the woman, who opened the door for us. A more wretched being in appearance I never beheld. He was lying in a bed sufficiently decent in itself, but at present besmeared with filth; his look was that of a man greatly tortured in mind, his eyes haggard, his countenance forbidding, [pg 198] and his whole appearance that of one whose better days had been one continued scene of debauch. His only nourishment was milk punch, in which he indulged to the full extent of his weak state. He had partaken very recently of it, as the sides and corners of his mouth exhibited very unequivocal traces of it, as well as of blood which had also followed in the track and left its mark on the pillow. Upon their making known the object of their visit, Paine interrupted the speaker by saying, ‘That's enough, sir, that's enough. I see what you would be about. I wish to hear no more from you, sir; my mind is made up on that subject. I look upon the whole of the Christian scheme to be a tissue of lies, and Jesus Christ to be nothing more than a cunning knave and imposter. Away with you, and your God, too! Leave the room instantly! All that you have uttered are lies, filthy lies, and if I had a little more time I would prove it, as I did about your imposter, Jesus Christ.’ Among the last utterances that fell upon the ears of the attendants of this dying infidel, and which have been recorded in history, were the words, ‘My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?’ ”

“Some thousand famous writers come up in this century to be forgotten in the next. But the silver cord of the Bible is not loosened, nor its golden bowl broken, though time chronicles his tens of centuries passed by.... You can trace the path of the Bible across the world, from the day of Pentecost to this day. As a river springs up in the heart of a sandy continent, having its father in the skies; as the stream rolls on, making in that arid waste a belt of verdure wherever it turns its way; creating palm groves and fertile plains, where the smoke of the cottage curls up at eventide, and marble cities send the gleam of their splendor far into die sky—such has been the course of the bible on earth.”—Theodore Parker.

“I must die—abandoned of God and of men.”—Voltaire.

Three Reasons For Repudiating Infidelity.

Bishop Whipple says, “I once met a thoughtful scholar who told me that for years he had read every book which assailed the religion of Jesus Christ. He said he would have been an infidel if it had not been for three things:

“ ‘First, I am a man. I am going somewhere. I am to-night a day nearer the grave than last night. I have read all that they can tell me. There is not one solitary ray of light upon the darkness. They shall not take away the only guide and leave me stone blind.

“ ‘Secondly, I had a mother. I saw her go down into the dark valley where I am going, and she leaned upon an unseen arm as calmly as a child goes to sleep upon the breast of a mother. I know that was not a dream.

“ ‘Thirdly, I have three motherless daughters. They have no protector but myself. I would rather kill them than leave them in this sinful world if you could blot out from it all the teachings of the Gospel.’ ”

Col. Ingersoll Is A Philosopher?

Col. Ingersoll tells us that “intellectual liberty, as a matter of necessity, forever destroys the idea that belief is either praise or blameworthy, and is wholly inconsistent with every creed in Christendom.” Again, he says, “No man can control his belief.” Notwithstanding all this, his whole occupation consists in traveling over the country and blaming men, women and children for their belief. He is consistent? He is a Scientist, you know? He does nothing that is absurd? He is a philosopher, sitting on the bones of Moses and making grimaces at the faith of Moses, when neither Moses nor his friends could control their belief? He works hard for no purpose if men can't control their belief, and does men injustice, if he blames them for their faith?

“No man can control his belief.” Then why labor to make your brother of humanity believe that he is but—

Life Of Elder E. Goodwin.

This interesting volume will be ready for delivery in a few days, as it is now in the hands of the binder. It is a neat volume of 314 pages, on good paper, and substantially bound in cloth. Price, $1.50.

Some two months ago we issued a prospectus for this book, proposing to make a work of 300 pages, and putting the price at $1.25, and these papers have been in the hands of agents for some time, and quite a large number of persons have subscribed for the book at that price. Of course all who have subscribed to date shall have the book in good faith at $1.25, as understood, but we are compelled to raise the price to all new subscribers from this date to $1.50, on account of the advance in all book stock and the increased size of the book.

All our old agents, and all persons desiring an agency for this work, will please correspond with us at this place—Bedford, Lawrence County, Indiana.

April 2, 1879.
J. M. Mathes.

Elder Mathes, also, keeps on hand a full supply of all the publications of the Christian church. Address all orders for any good book in the market to Elder James M. Mathes, Bedford, Lawrence County, Indiana. Send money by postal money order, bank draft, or registered letter.

J. M. Mathes.