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THE ATLANTA GEORGIAN,
SATURDAY. NOVEMBER 17, lfltt.
“THE MAN WITH A BROKEN HEART”
By REV. JOHN E. WHITE,
PASTOR SECOND BAPTIST CHURCH
rftHJS SUt Psalm Is thrco thousand f conformed to the external conditions
I years old. But It describes an If* church membership. If the doc-
I experience that was In yeater- “ I,lc ft the broken and the contrite
,, newspaper but for the fnct that I b < 'artjs modern!}- more Christian than
porter was not in the right place
.»» right time and did not tell what
...l ImorH
lit* and heard.
-V . if one does not mind to be per-
mt 4iv'i&ir In the interpretation of
I -Hntuir this passage about sacrifice®
r ‘a broken heart upon which our nt-
l^tinn I* directed is liable to mfscon-
i*ane with oUr anti-ritualistic prin-
L and prejudices we are likely to
rtrue it as a significant Old Testa-
critldsm of Judaism and the
,lc cultus of religion. It makes a
point, to quote PavM, the very
of Israelites, as the father of the
rtwtant protest. With some Fatis-
dtion we like to picture him as slng-
l|9f In his age what we sing in ours:
-Not all tli« blood of beasts
*0n Jewish altars slain
Could give the guilty conscience peace
Or wash away the stain.”
But David did not mean that. He In
land* no discredit of the temple forms.
I The l** 1 words of the Psalm, though
I they may hnv p bpp n and probably ttere
lidded later, are in no contradiction to
|the psalmist's earlier mind: "Then
Ishllt thou be pleased with the saeri-
Ificfs of righteousness with burnt of-
Ifeting® and whole burnt offerings; then
Ifhall they offer bullocks upon thine
Itlur.”
I it is fair and Just also to say that
is not, and never was. In Its
|creed and design an unsplritual re
ligion. If you would take the pains to
■inquire you would learn that the <Ie-
Irout Jew of otir own city stoutly ln-
*bts that the fdto and the ceremony
ire * snare to the Foul unless they are
|»pfritually apprehended and the truth
IdJcej* hold upon the life and has vcall-
Bsatfon In character and In conduct.
| Here the synagogue and the Chrlo-
|tian church have a common trouble. A
|peit many Jews reckoning on the
|»fety of their souls because they have
I been circumcised on the eighth day
find have conformed to the outward re-
|qtdrcnienfs of the synagogue; a great
rainy of us reckoning on salvation bo-
|cauN* we have been duly baptized by
Im authorized administrator and have
Jewish It Is only because the Jews hav
repudiated the world’s great heart*
breaker and the heart-breaking revela
tion of the Christ and the Cross, which
make sin so awful when seen In the
light of suffering love.
The Confessional.
Let it be clear, however, that David
In this Psalm does furnish an Old
Testament Illustration of the New
Testament fact. He is face to face
with God, without any priestly or rit
ualistic Intervention. His confessional
Is the closet of his own heart. His
broken heart bleeds at God's thron*\
>jo intermediary can cure Its sorrow.
His God only and hlreetly receives his
cry and He alone can minister the
balm. When you enter into the pain
ful personal quality of this psalm you
have realized probably what was one
of the most tragic and awful expe
riences a human soul ever knew/yet
an experience that Issued at length
Into the broad plains of peace.
I think I may tell you when and how
this psalni was revealed to my under
standing and became a living thing.
One night during my visit to Parts l
went into one of the brilliant phono
graphic concert salons on tho grand
boulevard, where ene can hear for a
slight consideration the reproduction
of the great masters of inusfc and
I chpse a number entitled
The Confession of Charles IX.”
The scene reproduced was the. night
after the St. Bartholomew massacre,
when 10.000 Huguenots were murdered
—tho king himself persuaded by his
monstrous mother, sitting in his win
dow had shot dozens who had come to
the palace for refuge.
The next day the furies of conscience
seized him. His heart was aflame with
remorse. Guilt fastened Its fangs In
hfs soul. He was described as fleeing
to the priest—the monseignor—and
seizing the railing of the confessional
he pleaded and cried in frantic prayer
for heaven’s absolution. Such tones of
grief, walling and then dying to a whis
per, rising and falling the awful ca
dences of woe I had never conceived as
tho Master of Tragedy put Into the lips
of the wretched and guilty king. The
gay throngs on the streets were for
gotten when I went to my rooms. Thati
night the 51st Psalm was bora anew
to me.
-Poor, miserable, sin-stained, broken
hearted David. From the de
nouncement of the prophet Na
than he fell down before God
and cried out an agony unspeakably
terrible. Like a condemned subject
clasping the robes of an emperor for
pardon. David seizes the horns of the
mercy seat and cries and pleads with
his God.
The Misery! God Knows!
There Is one feature of human sin
and likewise of all human sorrow
which our sympathy and our Judgments
rarely realize.
. Before tho fallen man we stand al
most entirely as observers of result?.
Tl.es-* appall us. We will** th* vio
lence of the wreck, the* Injury that has
been to a situation, the ruin of a fair
picture. Before our sorrowing friends
we also stand as observer?. The out
ward facts of bereavement are per
fectly plain, the Interrupted career, the
breaking of a lovely circle, the vacancy
of an empty chair.
But how poorly do wo appreciate the
finer and deeper facts of pain that He
In a sin or a sorrow.
Especially do I speak now of what
goee on In-the soul of the sufferer, the
broken and crushed
pathology
heart.
A whole year has elapsed since Da
vid's great sin wo* committed. If we
could go and live with him those thrte
hundred and sixty-five days and know
his heart during the hours of the days,
the minutes of the hours and the sec
onds of the minutes, we would know
somewhat why God can forgive sin.
The relation between divine parddn
■ ! omnisri.Hi.N- must be Very close. ,
One of the greatest of women once
wrote: Tf all were known all would
be forgiven."
God cannot despise'the broken arid
crushed heart, because He knows all
that is going on within that heart. In
the thirty-second Psalm wo are told
what thoae twelve months were In Da
vid’s life. "My bones waxed old
through my roaring all the day long,
for day and night Thy hand was heavy
on me.” Gan you conceive of a misery
that goes to the marrow? Can you
conceive of the roaring produced by
qulnlno in the ears, as a moral murmur
[anathema maran, and say, ’’These are
I nothing to the hell within me; I wel-
1 come their punishment.’’
I any this is David and David’s broth
ers and sisters In the generations that
come and go.
The poet Coleridge, a gentle, but
realizing, soul,'must have been with a
man like that when ho wrote Ills pow
erful tragedy. ’'Remorse.” He tells the
story of a happy home Into which an
ger,and sin entered, and murder. Ar-
donlo killed his brother, Isadora Be-
; holding his remorse, Isadora Calls him
»to hls side and with a brother's love
J forgives him as he dies. But the woe
deepens In his soul. Alkadra, the wife
1 of the murdered Isadora, seeks tho
murderer w ith the dagger of vengeance.
| He -watches her approach anti makes
‘ no effort to escape, no sign of self-
defense. She plunges the knife Into his
: heart, the crime meets penalty. As
Ardonfo expires he says:
*'I stood In silence like a .slave before
her.
That I might taste tho wormwood and
the gall.
fore us. "What fs the right attitude
toward this or that one who has gone
down In a crime or in an immorality
We do not always know what to say or
how to feel.
Well, do you know that this Is just
the question ever before God? If you
have settled that you want to be a
Christian in such matters you will not
too quickly decide It.
Tho principle on which forgiveness
Is right Is uncovered plainly for you.
God's law of pardon Is clearly writ. It
Is a law that safeguards virtue. Hu
manity can adopt it and practice it
without Jeopardizing social safety.
What Is it? What question does It
ask? What condition does It require?
Simply this: "Is there a broken and
contrite heart?"
Tho bold, brazen, self-excusing sin
ner, making It fair for himself and
plainly more concerned with a lost
public standing than with a stained
soul, defiantly proposing to live it all
down and rnnklng a refuge of the sins
of others or seeking even the aegis of
. protection under the common
And satiate this self-accusing heart! ness of his kind has no forgiveness at
With bitterer agonies than death can | the throne of God. And it were no
ii or sin tnut could not
saven. Mind! I don't
tys Is, hut It can he.
curred to you?”
doctor confessed. *T
Incessant In the heart? Well, then, just
for a while come from tho seat of judg
ment and behold tho misery of a fallen
man. Firing and present your Instru
ments of torture, ybu'f penalties• of
shame, your stigmas and labels of'os
tracism. Find him- in tho aleeploss
night, or In the glow of one of those
ihimmery mornings, when he has risen
and stands at the window pale and
sick, looking out upon the street, and
tic life th;it Mil* " ith. r. .1 t.. r..
and season of a cheerless winter. Catch
the cadence of his sigh*, the misery
of his sharp and short ejaculations of
prayer followed by dry-eyed brood
ing. 1 think he would smile at your
fiercest Judgments, though thty were
give.”
Do you wonder, ns Bocrntes did, how
God can forgive sins? Why It Is that
He will not despise the broken and
the contrite heart? It Is because He
know? tic- misery of th«> mImih r.
you wonder why we find It so hard to
forgive sinners? Why tho broken and
crushed heart we will fl as pise? It Is
because we cannot or do not see the
white-faced sinner at the window look
ing on a withered world.
What! Would You—7 y
No! I would not. I would not lower
any strong, straight, severe standard of
society to let a sin Into favor. There
Is a forgiveness, a despicable kind of
forgiveness, that Is more than half
a selfish self excusing. Thieves and
adulterers smile upon each other and
so smile upon theft and adultery*. There
Is also a forgiveness of maudlin senti
ment that makes much of Its virtue
while It makes little of vice. The for
giveness of a Christian Is a nobler and
deeper thing. It pardons the sinner,
but never the sin. * And under some
circumstances It cannot even forgive
the Sinner.
The question very’ often comes be-
rlghteousness In any man to look with
unfaithful leniency upon the conduct
ef such an one.
But the broken and the contrite heart
O. my brothers, dare to despise at your
peril!
The Christ made much of human
forgiveness and the reason Is not far
to seek. There is no kingdom of God
in a nmn If tho way of the broken and
contrite heart to pardon and peace Is
cleaped. Upon those who shut the door
of. mercy He pronounced a woe. "Woe
unto you, Scribes and Pharisees, be
cause ye shut up the kingdom of God
against men!”
The Gate of Heaven.
This Is the Gospel of Christ—a gos
pel for the broken hearted. God is so
good to little children and sinners. Has
It occurred to you that He Is*good to
these for very much the same reason?
He Js graclons to little children be
cause they are Innocent and humble
and He Is gracious to sinners and suf
ferers because they are not proud and
self-sufllclent. "Blessed are the pure
In heart—Blessed are they that mourn.”
It Is all a part of that great mystery of
Grace* which puts heaven closo to the
cradle and close eo the convict
coffin.
"Have you ever noticed,” said Dr.
Lavender, in The Awakening of Helena
Richie,” "that every single human ex
perience—except perhaps the stagna
tion' of conceit; I haven’t found any
thing hopeful In that yet, but maybe
I shall some day—but except for con
ceit I have never known any human
experience of pain or sin that
be the gate of heaven,
say that it alway
Has that ever occu
"Well, nothe
can’t say that It hz
"Oh, you are young yet,” Dr. Lav
ender said, encouragingly. “My boy,
let me tell you. there are some good
folks who don’t begin to know their
Heavenly Father as the sinner does
who climbs up to Him out of the gut
ter.”
No human experience of pain or sin
that cannot be the gate of heave!)!
To have the pain and miss th** gntc—
that were a tragedy more than the
pain. No man can say that his sorrow
Is greater than he can bear unless 1m
coma to the gato of heaven and say.
"Oh, God, I cannot bear It alone!”
I have but recently known a man —
a young man, whose mother being all
that ho had of companionship, left him
desolate at her death. His grief
brought him closo to the gate, but ho
did not enter. He lias not entered. I
know another boy who suffered a like
sorrow. He came there to the gate of
heaven and he entered it. A few days
ag.> he ramaiIff* J to his friend when
they were talking about books and ded
ications of books: "If I ever write a
book I have my dedication already pre
pared. It will bo "To my Mother and
Father—My Mother first, because to do
her life’s work she must needs die.”
To have the sin and miss the gate.
Oh! that were the very* woe of living.
Yot how many there are who sin with
out repentance! Tlioy hide it from the
world. They* count themselves ^ safe
because no man knows. It were bet
ter for their soul that the world knew.
If It broke these hearts and crushed
them, than to hide it always and'go to
the Judgment without a broken and
contrite heart, "For a broken and <i
contrite heart thou wilt not despise,
O Lord!"
ItHlHlMHIttHIMHltmUIIIMMIIIWMI
IfHIMHHfMMHtMMHH
THE COMMERCIALIZED CONSCIENCE
By REV. EVERETT DEAN ELLENWOOD, j
PASTOR UNIVERSAL1ST CHURCH
T n HERE iii n Quite too prevalent
notion that two standards of
. virtue and chastity must exist
I «j an inevitable fact. Modern society
I demand;' of woman absolute personal
I tod iocial purity, while for the much
vaunted "stronger sex" her ultlmato
command Is "thou shnlt not bo found
cut." Our civilization shall not bocomo
I worthy our boasting until the public
I conscience shall become saturated with
] the knowledge that but one standard
of virtue and purity Is pttsfbl*, and
I that we must .not demand of woman
■my more absolute chastity than Is reg-
I jstered In the conscience of her father,
I Mr brother, Kef lover or her husband.
I Personal purity can know no divld-
I In, line of sex.
I So, also in the commercial relations
I of life, there seems to exist In the
I minds of too many men and women
I the Idea of a division and distinction
I ef ethics. They*, Is Apparently no vital
I connection between the code of morals
I operative and. effective In their private
I Jives and the one of which they cus-
I tomarlly make use In what they are
I accustomed tor term' th, “business
1 world. Tho rules of conduct which
I™*" them loved ami respected os
J.™™ and. neighbors and o/ttlme*
I Mraldcd far for the splendid propor-
|‘""t* °f <helr private benevolences ap-
I !** r to have no connection whatever
I with the part they ore permitted to
|P«y In the Industrial and commercial
I activities of society.
Humanity mutters her unceasing
protest and civilization halts with
bruised feet along her path of prog,
ress because of the commercialized
conscience. "Man’s Inhumanity to man
continues tp make countless millions
mourn" becauso of his attempt to make
uao of a divided standard In his moral
responsibilities and obligations.
Hero Is a sleek, well groomed dea
con In a popular church. His private
life Is Irreproachable. He Is a model
husband and father, and a much loved
friend and neighbor. Social!;' he la a
delightful and protltoble comrade. Am
bitious fathers direct the emulation of
their sons to a study of his success,
forgetting all too often the considera
tion of It, methods. As he rises, In the
weekly prayer meeting, to beseech the
throne of grace with fervent unction
his hearers devoutly render thanks for
the presence of such a stalwart son of
light, and eagerly lend the service Of
their hearts to his sanctimonious ap
peal, "Let us pray.”
On the morrow It la more than like
ly that you may itnd this same sleek,
well fed citizen, sans unction, sans
sanctity, gathered with n group of
his fellow vultures in the directors'
room.of some great corporation to ef
fect the Judicious application of a little
more aqua puna to the already badly
dropsled stocks upon which tho patient
public must continue .to pay the ac
customed dividends. In the absence
of human vocalization, the very’ spirit
of greed seems to speak forth from
the faces of these enterprising business
associates In echo of tho deacon’s fer
vent proposition of the evening before,
"Let us
What la the cause of this most la
mentable change? What malovoleht
spirit has effected this tremendous
transformation during the short hours
of the night? The answer Is easy. In
the first Instance the deacon was a
private citizen enjoying the perform
ance of his obvious religious nnd social
duties. In the second ho was a potent
factor In the commercial world merely
taking full advantage of hi, business
opportunities. Externally be was tho
same person th both Instances, but In
each cue he mode use of a different
section of his conscience: he called Into
play a different set of morals, that Is
alt. He has simply become a victim nf
the prevalent commercialized con
science. He la playing at the old, old
game of the' simultaneous worship bf
Qod and mammon.
Let me cmplo;
pertinent IllustrtUI
managing officials of the public ser
vice corporation, which operates the
street railways of our pity are un
doubtedly large-hearted and .benevo
lent citizens, filled with that chivalry
and hospitality for which this section
of the country Is famed as a center.
They are public spirited men, as pri
vate citizens, too. They are Jealous bf
They
REV. E. D. ELLENWOOK
Would be chagrined and mortified to
learn that guests In their homes had
been obliged to sit for hours in cold,
unsanitary nnd uncomforlnbls rooms.
They would bn Indignant, indeed, if told
that »uch Indignities Inflicted upon tiny
children and delicate women had shat
tered the health and Imperilled the
lives of the unfortunate victims of this
conditions.
But, In the capacity of director, and
officials In this public service corpo
ration, they turned ', deaf-ear to the
pleadings and the protest* of hundred,
of their friends and neighbors obliged
by circumstances to ride In cold and
•unsanitary cars provided by. this corpo
ration for tho use of Its temporary
guests. Men and women housed all day
at their work In comfortably heated
Stores and offices have been obliged to
sit Inactive for hglf un hour or more In
cars whose stagnant air Is colder than
the outside atmosphere. It Is difficult
to determine the full extent of the dam-
ago to human health and happiness re
sultant from these exposures, but
no doubt many deaths and much sick
ness of an aggravated character may
be traced to these causes, and, even If
It were possible to demonstrate that no
can citizen must feel at being crowd
ed like cattle Into unsanitary and un
comfortable cars for a transportation
whose coinfort arid safety should be se
cured by the payment nf the required
fee, is sufficient to characterize this
negligence nnd procrastination on tho
part of this great public zervlco cor
poration as nn outrage upon common
decency and- fair play.
And why Is It thgt In their ofllcial
capacity they arc thus guilty of cruel
nnd discourteous treatment of those
temporarily at their morcy,. while In
their private lives they would scorn
even ths imputation of an unchlvnlrous
act? Because the commercialized con.
sclonce Is getting In Its unholy work
In their hearts. As private citizens
they are solicitous for the welfare of
th«lr fellows: as the managers of a
great business they nppear I anxious
only to secure tho largest possible reve
nue with th, smallest possible outlay.
‘‘Business I, business nnd sentiments
of kindness and humanity apparently
hare no placo In Its code of ethics.
■Wr suffer at every turn from the
commercialized conscience. On the
.bbath In tho sanctuary we may kneel
side our meat market man at the
altar rail, but on the morrow we find
It necessary to watch him closely lest
In a moment of shserit-mlndednes* he
weigh up his band to us along with
oar beefsteak, our liui:.:i.»n may . ,v-
ultingly shout hU hosannas at tho an-
- nual revival services of his church, hut
he still has regular reroureo to the
"moss-covered bucket that hung In the
that Indispensable product which
gives him a commercial interest In our
lives.
We eat glucose in our maple sirup,
tapioca In oiir pepper, com starch In
our powdered sugar, red dye In our to
mato catsup, acetic acid and water In
Pisco of otir vinegar, vc.il In our molted
turkey, and worms In our prunes be
cause we are unspeakably cursed by
the commercialized conscience.
We arc obliged to retain the expen
sive services of n constantly Increasing
army of Inspectors of foods and drinks
nnd medicines nnd measures nnd
weights. In order that we may feel
reasonably sure that we nro getting
what we ask for, and as much of It ns
we pay for, and even then we arc dis
mayed at times to discover that these
gumdiiiti" of the public stomach and
rite public purse are working under two
different payroll*, with the balance of
favor to be determined only by tho
strength of the commercial conscience.
Hore, after all. must be the test of
our religion and the measure of Its
worth to society. Net the number and
wealth or our churches, the. height ot
their heavenward towering spires, nor
the grandeur of their rituals. Not even
the frequency of their services nor tho
fervor of their devotees shall murk us
as a religious people, a Clod-fearing
nation.
Only as wo shall be able to make
the religion of the sanctuary the relig
ion of the market-place, the ethics of
tho pulpit the ethics of the council
chamber, and the conscience of the
prayer chamber tho conscience of the
corporation, shall we be able to make
our religious worship worth any more
to tho world than the primitive super
stitions In which It had its Inception.
WHAT IS RELIGION?—II
By REV. JAMES W. LEE,
PASTOR TRINITY METHODIST CHURCH
II.
The last born ot an old order and
first born of the new. the finite
t*. , 01 ,h * Infltntte Ood reaches out
S ’ a » a what the universe has to give
lie seeks food and clothing and
S*™!' ,,e haa no Instinct to guide
he has no reason which is hidden
in the recesses of his Interior
Hut Impelled by a sense of need,
wares nature and contends for some-
■nmg to c at and something to wear.
S* * r ,lac « of refuge from the outside
dharms. r n the struggle with exter-
i. th * Powers of reason begin
disclose themselves. Th, mat,rtals
o satisfy- the demands of his physical
sanis were abundant, but nature
..nly give him the tilings he enme
'Writmliy prepared to take away. The
r. 0 ’ 'if the elephant were supplied ns
Mtur.ihy as light matches the eye. The
ori;, ; hat huge animal found, was no
•tftoo. to him. It could teach him
“>tnhiq. if* wa s b, lrn with all tratn-
essary to-fit him for the sphere
M had to flu. He was a senior in the
wiiegf. f ,f nature without having to
SJdy The first one that ever put his
font down on earth found for liirn-
r; r as good food ns the last. Man
worn the beginning was Ideally nnd cs-
■fhUaHy related to nature, but the In-
and outside ends of relationship
ft.. .
looms nnd needles and sewing ma
chines, devices constructed by the In
telligence, he goes a, unfailingly to his
raiment as w ild geese go to winter re
sort, In cold weather. With axes and
saw mills, and .picks and shovels and
chisels, tools Invented by the Imagina
tion, he goes as straight to materials
for his shelter a* drachlpods go to tho
mud tn the sea for their shells.
III.
But man not only goes to nature for
bread, he asks for knowledge. He not
only calls for raiment, he seeks Ideas,
He not only needs a house to live In.
ho needs a system of knowledge to
think In. So he began asking ques
tions. He was curious to know what
tilings meant. Storms, lightning, thun
der, sunsets, cold, heat, skies, clouds,
changing seasons, growing trass, bloom
ing meadows, birth, pain, sickness nnd
death provoked his wonder. But the
mind he brought to question fact* was
In its Infancy, hence the answer, he re
ceived were childish. He could get
knowledge no fuller than was the de
velopment of his understanding. Truth
was for him as food was for him, but
enlarged capacity to receive either was
lacking. He questioned his mytholo
gies, and for a tithe took them for the
answers the nature of things was giv
ing to his questions. Mythology was
not the union of the mind with r®alltv,
' .mu ouiside ends of reiallon6mp
vi, not brought together. The cn-
aoning st^re-house was packed with —■— --
fefor the whole of him, as well as (but was the mWeadlmi ,‘ h «' *'n-
2! h , b nn *V for the whole of the bee, > agination kindled within Itself In ts
b > lor ‘he w-noie OI me iw,
ihL v door * were Closed, and unlike
bee that carried In Its proboscis the
JH r “block the heart of every flow cr.
to open the supplies he needed
*z bidden away in his understanding,
gradually he ha* learned to enter
SLk .. ho118 a hd chambers and to
mma all th, stairways of the vast
of nature. In finding the
th. ri.of the world ho has discovered
v ender, of himself.
tJT /'.'^'ltutlon 0 f the aum 0 f things
in.- . blm corresponds to the struc-
h»Vi. th ' enme self within him. He
Ms “* rn *4 at last to do, by means of
!hu^ a '°P with the entire nature of
age, what the lower animal.*, by
2S? 4 . 0 ? Instinct, do with different
m,! “ With p’ows and hoes and
1M ' an d mowers and reapers, tmple-
oz si* rrotidej by the reason, he goes
atempts to grasp the truth of reality.
In mythology we see what the human
ntlnd thought of nature, man and uod
before It had been trained and discip
lined In the knowledge of Itself nnd the
us, of Itself by long and Intimate asso
ciation with the facts as they arc.
Mythology was only so many colored
flames thri
...rown Into the heavens of In
telligence by the contact of facta wttn
Ignorance, ~
and hunger end
with others of
teachers. He has learned slowly, arid
at great cost, hut he has learned sure
ly. He has moved up through pain,
but he has njeadll|y ascended. Ills
footprints have been red with the blood
of sacrifice, but he has constantly
moved onward.
He hna found the world a difficult
proposition to compass with his under
standing, but century by century be
has seen It yield up. one secret after
another, until et length he lms eomo to
feel that It Is ell knowuble. The uni
verse Is no longer foreign to him. It
answers to his reason with what It has
to give him, as completely os the sea
answers to the Instinct of the zoophlto
with what It has to give It- The nature
of things hns not deceived him no
more than It hae deceived the lowlier
denizen* of the carth. When addressed
Intelligently and patiently It responds
to his questions with answers that are
university valid, and verifiable In ex
perience. Ills reason Is Infinitely more
than all the Instincts of the lower
forms of life put together, because It
enable* him to do Immeasurably more
with the whole of nature for his physi
cal well being than they can do with
limited parts nf It tor theirs.
Besides something to eat -and some
thing to think, mnn sedks something to
worship. He calls for bread, he calls
for know ledge, he calls for Ood. He no
sooner began hls search for food and
knowledge than he began tile search'
for rellgton. But he knew as little
about the soul for which he sought re
ligion. ns about the mind for which he
sought knowledge, or as about the body
for which he sought food. He came to
the facts of the universe as poorly fur-
nlsbed to take away the material they
had for religion os to take away what
they had to ofteg for knowledge or ral- {
After tile mind had been: ment. Nevertheless, he found some-
eAncnted for thousands of years In the' 'hing from the beginning out of which |
School of facts. It called unon the to make hts shelter, hls food and hls.
earth for Its history, and found the religion. He has always been as p»-
rilanet ready to 'answer with geology, ligtou* as he has hem. physical or men- •
There is nothing in the earth today I tal. He saw something that appealed
thnt was not In It when man first made to the religious elemrnt In him, In the
Ithls dwelling pise*. " — '* ~~ ,Mr *' ,k *
respond to him
the style of his bread and his learning.
....... In all age*
Every human heart I* human.
Even In savage bosoms
There are longings, yearnings,
strivings.
For the good they comprehend not;
... Feeble hands and helpless,
Groping blindly in the darkne??,
. Touch God'* right hand In that
,' darkness.
And are lifted up at».d strengthened.
On<? Jum as well think contempt'll'
Jt was ready to,' vgry thing that appealed also to his _
responu «n Iaw and need fur ideas and for bread Nature ; ou , ;y r \ , he bon# at wh j ch the primt-
rwder and truth with which It answer, | from the first v a* a store house to . . ,, nr the , ive tn which
but he w.ni like . child In; fe, d Ills body and a library to feed hi* ; ? an Knaweo, or tho ea\e in wnicn
“t.Ti; IhlTkindergarten grid could not under- ntnd. and a temple to fee.) hi* spirit. h ’’ * ,! Pt. or the crude Ideas that clr-
‘hc go to thelMIme in the ! tand"t. Suns nnd oceans and winds'HU religion was poor, but It was up tolcuJ*tcd through his tnlnd, as of the
.shell-god before which he bowed in
I worship. The bone was a prophecy of
the coming market: the cave wa, an
adumbration of the coming dwelling
place; the crude Ideas pointed toward
coming science, nnd the spirit that
bowed before the shell wa» reaching
out for the coming religion. Man did
not begin life In an amply furnished
grocery storo. nor In a well-equipped
dwelling place, nor In a richly en-
downed college, nor In a Cologne cathe
dral. He began It In a wilderness on
tho wild revolving earth: but he be
gan It In the Image of God and has
used the years of all history to find
hls coipmerre, hls home, hls science
nnd hls religion. Th* half nf commerce
nnd homes and science and religion
was wrapped In the constitution of,
the first man: the other half of them'
was In the facts outside of him. Com
merce did not create the demand for
things supplied by It; the demand cre
ated commerce. Homes did not de
velop the demand for ,h,lt,r; the de
mand developed homes. Science did
not call out the desire for accurate
. knowledge; the desire created science.
Priests and Bibles and temples did not
create rellgton; religion created them.
Harps and violins and pianos and or
gans did not create the harmonic
sense; the harmonic sense created
them. Honey did not create the In
stinct for sweets In bees: the Instinct
created honey. Coral reefs did
not create the capacity for .find
ing lime; the capacity created the
reefs. Destroy all beef markets and
mills, and human nature will rebuild
them. Burn down all dwelling plnccs,
and human nature will replace them.
Obliterate all science, and human na
ture will reorganize It. Banish from
the haunt* of men every priest, put
beneath the sea every BIhle, pull down
every temple, nnd human nature will
ordain new priests, lift under the sky
new temples, and Qod wtU Inspire It to
write a new Bible. Huppose every ob
servatory from which students survey
the heavens were pulled down, every
professor ot astronomy remove.] from
all contact with man, all book, on
astronomy burned up, -every reference
to the subject taken out of literature
and the whole question ruled out of
alt discussion by law.for a generation,
then It would follow that the race
would be without any knowledge of the
stars. But in the coiu-so of the cen
turies the observatories would be built,
the book, would be re-wrttton, the pro
fessors would bo re-appointed and the
whole science of the firmament would
be reorganized, and when reproduced
would be exactly the same ns that de
stroyed. The facts being permanent,
and the thought they embody being
permanent and forever the same, the
science made from a study of them at
one time will necessarily be the enme
as that made from a study of them
st another time. Celestial facta nfe
as permanent as the heavens aa.l re
ligious facts are. as permanent as the
nature of man and ef God, and when
the thought In them Is found It can be
converted Into science as verifiable and
valid for all men as Is the science of
the revolving skies. The bottom of
the grocery store Is hunger; the foun
dation of the dry goods establishment
Is n,ed for raiment; the real support
of the school Is the desire to know,
and the basts of every place of wor
ship on earth Is the sense of depend
ence In man upon an unseen power to
which he feels himself related and re
sponsible. Man can no more outgrow
religion than he can outgrow him
self. Where food Is left out the body
Is starved; where knowledge Is left out
the mind Is starved, and where religion
Is left out the spirit I, starved. The
religious nature Is as much an essen
tial and Integral part of man as Is.the
physical or the mental. Extract from
human life the religious tincture with
which It Is Impregnated and you leave
It colorless and spiritless. Take the
religious element from human nature
and you take the pyramids out of
EgypC th, tabernacles out of Israel, the
temple out of Jerusalem, the Par-
flat nnd desolate and Impotent on the
earih. If man had no eyes there might
be light, but he could never see by It.
If he had no ears there might be sound. ,
but he could nover hear It. If he had
no esthetic sense there might be beau
ty, but he could never appreciate It. If
he had nc Intelligence there might he
relations, but he could • never kuoj\
them, and If ho had no religion* sense"•
there might be a God,' but he could
never find Him. Religion - is to the
whole of man. uliat vision Is to the
eye, what hearing Is to the ear, what
breathlng ls to tho lungs, what knowl
edge I* to the Intellect, and what mo
rality It to- the will. Religion Is the
stairway up which man climbs to the
source of hi* being. It is the way
over which tho child walks to the
Father's house. It Is the road from the
finite to tho infinite, from weakness to
strength, front despair to hope, from
turmoil to peace, from sin to holiness,
from the local to the universal, from
night to day. from time to eternity,
from earth to heaven. Religion Is tho
badge of man's kinship to the King
of Kings. It Is the dictionary In which
he find* the definition of hls helmr. It
Is the song that falls Into hls soul
from those who miss him in the ever
lasting home. It I* the peat of the
bell* from the steeples In the city of
God. It Is the door In the sky through
which he Is to pass from hi* prison to
hls freedom. It Is the vision of the
mnming-llt land In
dwell when the days
aro over. It is the
are beating from tin
who cry no more. It
the flowers that bloc
ipe.
mind the religious Idea with which it Is
saturated and you take the Vedlc
hymns out of Hindoo literature, the ■ eternal day. It I
Zend-Avesta out of Persian literature, spirits' everlasting
the Pal a to Virtue out of Buddhistic In the light of a si
literature, the Koran out of Arabian It Is the vi.-w of the
literature, and the Holy Scriptures out flowing am"! gardens
of the literature of Christendom. Make never fade, and by In
sn inetrlor In human thought dMP never.darkened by the st
nough and wide reaching enough to j It Is sight of the tmm
remove ever} evidence of th* pres- 1 which the - >ul sailed ft
r religious feeling and you re- time, an.I kM
duco humanity to a barren Sahara of {age again wh
en I mated. Individuated points lying are over.
■HHli mtStiSk
'*-gs
