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f MH 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