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Ellis","r2_key":"document/aa/aa7320468e388357b8990cf1b630e3293add9f742237be7300cc8eb5604cd2d0.txt","record_kind":"document","sha256":"aa7320468e388357b8990cf1b630e3293add9f742237be7300cc8eb5604cd2d0","slug":"unity-pulpit","status":"published","summary":"Minot Judson Savage, 1879. A public-domain text about Boston, accessioned whole so the archive can quote it.","text_extract":"This is a digital copy of a book that was preserved for generations on library shelves before it was carefully scanned by Google as part of a project \nto make the world's books discoverable online. \n\nIt has survived long enough for the copyright to expire and the book to enter the public domain. A public domain book is one that was never subject \nto copyright or whose legal copyright term has expired. Whether a book is in the public domain may vary country to country. Public domain books \nare our gateways to the past, representing a wealth of history, culture and knowledge that's often difficult to discover. \n\nMarks, notations and other marginalia present in the original volume will appear in this file - a reminder of this book's long journey from the \npublisher to a library and finally to you. \n\nUsage guidelines \n\nGoogle is proud to partner with libraries to digitize public domain materials and make them widely accessible. Public domain books belong to the \npublic and we are merely their custodians. Nevertheless, this work is expensive, so in order to keep providing this resource, we have taken steps to \nprevent abuse by commercial parties, including placing technical restrictions on automated querying. \n\nWe also ask that you: \n\n+ Make non-commercial use of the files We designed Google Book Search for use by individuals, and we request that you use these files for \npersonal, non-commercial purposes. \n\n+ Refrain from automated querying Do not send automated queries of any sort to Google's system: If you are conducting research on machine \ntranslation, optical character recognition or other areas where access to a large amount of text is helpful, please contact us. We encourage the \nuse of public domain materials for these purposes and may be able to help. \n\n+ Maintain attribution The Google \"watermark\" you see on each file is essential for informing people about this project and helping them find \nadditional materials through Google Book Search. Please do not remove it. \n\n+ Keep it legal Whatever your use, remember that you are responsible for ensuring that what you are doing is legal. Do not assume that just \nbecause we believe a book is in the public domain for users in the United States, that the work is also in the public domain for users in other \ncountries. Whether a book is still in copyright varies from country to country, and we can't offer guidance on whether any specific use of \nany specific book is allowed. Please do not assume that a book's appearance in Google Book Search means it can be used in any manner \nanywhere in the world. Copyright infringement liability can be quite severe. \n\nAbout Google Book Search \n\nGoogle's mission is to organize the world's information and to make it universally accessible and useful. Google Book Search helps readers \ndiscover the world's books while helping authors and publishers reach new audiences. You can search through the full text of this book on the web \n\n\nat|http : //books . google . com/ \n\n\nr< \n\n\nlldi Oct. >'eA;i>0^ ^OjIxw^ JJcuxa'-vx.. \n\n\nPubllBlied w^eekly. Price $1.60 a year, or 6 cents Blnffle copy. \n\n\nUNITY PULPIT \n\n, BOSTON \n\n\nSERMONS OF M. J. SAVAGE \n\n\nVol- 13 OCTOBER 16, 1891 No. i \n\n\nA MISSIONARY JOURNEY \n\n\nBOSTON \n\nGEORGE H. ELLIS, 141 FRANKLIN STREET \n\n1891 \n\nSmuni al the Pott^cfice, BogUm, Mau., as teeond-etau mail matter. \n\n\n.i;! \n\n\nMr. Savage's Books. \n\n\nReligious Reconstruction. lamo ti.oo \n\nThese Degenerate Days. Small i6mo. Flexible 50 \n\nMy Creed, tamo i.oo \n\nPoems. i6mo. Full gilt With portrait 1.50 \n\nLight on the Cloud. i6mo. Full gilt i.as \n\nSocial Problems. lamo i.oo \n\nThe Religious Life, zamo i.oo \n\nBelief in God. lamo i.oo \n\nBeliefs about Man. lamo i.oo \n\nBeliefs about the Bible. i.oo \n\nThe Modem Sphinx. lamo i.oo \n\nThe Morals of Evolution. lamo 1.00 \n\nTalks about Jesus. lamo i.oo \n\nMan, Woman and Child. lamo i.oo \n\nChristianity the Science of Manhood. lamo i.oo \n\nThe Religion of Evolution. lamo 1.50 \n\nLife Questions. i6mo ixx> \n\nBluffton: A Stonr of To-day. lamo z.50 \n\nHelps for Dailv Living, zamo i.oo \n\nThe Signs of the Times. lamo i.oo \n\nLife. lamo i.oo \n\nThe Minister's Hand-book. For Christenings, Weddings, \n\nand Funerals. Cloth 75 \n\nSacred Sonn for Public Worship. A Hymn and Tune \n\nBook. Edited by M. J. Savage and Howard M. Dow. \n\nCloth I.oo \n\nLeather . . 1.50 \n\nUnitarian Catechism. With an Introduction by £. A. Horton. \n\nPnce, Paper, per copy, . . . . ao cents. Per dos., 1.50 \n\n'* Cloth, •*.... 30 •• \" a.50 \n\n\nMr. SaviLge's weekly sermons are regularly printed in pamphlet \ni$rm in '* Unity Pulpit.\" Subscription price, tor the season, #1.50; \n' single copies, s cents. \n\nGEO. H. SLLIS, Pitblitksr, \n\nt4M FroMklin SU^ BetiffHt Mtu*. \n\n\n! ■'•- \n\n\n^ ■ \n\n\n'/. '-: A MISSIONARY JOURNEY. \n\n\nMy subject this morning is \"A Missionary Journey.\" I \nventure to be presumptuous enough to take a text from the \nninth chapter of Luke and part of the tenth verse, — \" When \nthey were returned, they declared unto him what things they \nhad done.\" Yesterday afternoon, at twenty minutes before \nfour, I reached Boston, after an absence of nearly two \nmonths, and a journey, roughly speaking, of about eight \nthousand miles. I have spent seventeen nights travelling on \nthe cars. During the last five weeks I have spoken, preach- \ning or lecturing, on an average nearly five times a week. \nIt has not been therefore, you will see, all play with me ; \nthough I am glad to be able to say to you that I have come \nback strong and well. This absence of mine has trenched \na little upon the ordinary limits of our vacation time. I ex- \npected fully myself to have been home earlier, but found it \nsimply impossible; for, in spite of the amount of work I \nhave done, I have refused at least as much more that came \nto me with an earnest appeal, coupled with the thought, \npressed upon me over and over again, that I was needed in \nthe West more than I was here, where my voice and my \nmessage were so familiar, and that I could do specially \nimportant work if I remained there even longer than I had \ndone. Having, however, trespassed upon the ordinary va- \ncation time, I feel that it is due to you that I should give \nan account of myself. For I have always felt that my first \nobligation is to you. I am the minister of this church first \nand at all times. To you belongs whatever physical power, \n\n* Phonographically rerx>rted. \n\n\nwhatever mental, moral, and spiritual ability I am possessed \nof. It is yours ; and I have a right to go in other directions \nonly after I have met in full measure the obligation that \nrests upon me to give to you the highest and best service \nof which I am capable. I have thought always that my \nvacation time was yours. A horse, when in the midst of a \njourney he stops at noon for a lunch and a little rest in the \nshade, is at that time as truly working for his master as \nwhen he is putting forth his utmost speed upon the road. \nSo I have always felt that my vacation time, time of rest \nand preparation, was yours as much as the time of my most \nearnest service. \n\nI should not presume this Sunday morning, in this time \nand place, to tell you a personal story of travel. Were I \nminded to do that at all, it would be proper only to cast it in \nthe form of a lecture, and give it on some week-day evening. \nBut it seems to me, as I have looked over the field which \nI have observed, that I might render a service to you beyond \nthat of any personal story I may have to tell. Indeed, \nas I look back over the past of my ministry with you, I take \nmyself to task as having been at fault. I have not suffi- \nciently interested you in work beyond our own limits, beyond \nour own State, beyond New England. I have trusted per- \nhaps too much to your familiarity with reports of our mis- \nsionary work, your familiarity with our denominational news- \npapers ; and so I have found that, when I appealed to you for \nthis cause or that in the West or in the South, many of you, \nhaving been so busied about your own affairs, are hardly \naware of the magnitude of the business in which we are \nengaged, hardly appreciate that of which I am speaking. \nIt seems to me, then, this morning that I can render to you \na definite service, that perhaps I can thrill and rouse your \ninterest. I can make you understand a little better what it \nis as a denomination that we are trying to do, how wide and \nfar-reaching is our work, and by simply running over with \nyou in a familiar, easy, conversational way the story of my \nmissionary journey. For I would not have you understand \n\n\n5 \n\nthat I have been on a pleasure trip. It has indeed been to \nme a great pleasure. To travel day after day over plains \nas wide as the sea ; to skirt the edges of great lakes which \nhave in them almost the infinity of the ocean itself ; to climb \nthe summit of magnificent mountains ; to plunge hour after \nhour through the depth and darkness of great cafions, preci- \npices above and precipices below; lo look upon other States, \nother people, other cities, — these things, indeed, have been a \npleasure. They have been instruction, they have been an \ninspiration ; and I believe that you will find my work for \nthe coming year will be the better for the time that I have \ngiven to this journey. But it has not been as a pleasure \ntrip that I have gone. I went purely and simply at the \noutset to render a religious service to a friend on the Pacific \nCoast, that I shall tell you of in its time and place. \n\nYou will pardon me for suggesting one other thought. \nMost of you will think perhaps that it is entirely uncalled \nfor. Still, so peculiar are the experiences of ministers that \nI happen to know that it is called for. I wish, then, to say \nthat I have not been on a money-making trip. Now and \nthen I hear suggestions from this quarter and that of the \nvast income that is supposed to be pouring in upon a min- \nister from weddings, lectures, and this source and that. I \nwish simply to disabuse your mind, if it is necessary, of any \nsuch impression as that. Not a year goes by when I do not \nfreely render services that would bring me from three to six \nthousand dollars, were I accustomed to charge as the city \nlawyer or doctor would charge for his time, travel, and \neffort. I have taken this journey as Paul did : I have \nworked simply enough to pay my way, and have come home \nprecisely as rich as I was when I started. \n\nNow let me tell you some of the incidents of this journey. \nIt will inform you of what churches we have in some parts of \nthe West, what men are there, the condition of things, and \nwhat they are doing. \n\nI took the train at Plymouth, N.H., on the fifteenth day \nof August, going by way of Montreal and the Canadian Pa- \n\n\ncific Railway to the West. Day after day, night after night, \nwe passed over a country comparatively uninteresting until \nwe reached one of the most beautiful mountain places which \nI have ever seen, at Banff, on the eastern edge of the Ca- \nnadian Rockies. Here I stopped and rested and refreshed \nmyself for one day. Then, pursuing my journey westward \nthrough some of the strangest and some of the most varied \nand some of the most magnificent scenery of this continent, \nI reached Seattle in the State of Washington just one week \nfrom the day of my starting. You need to travel across this \ncontinent, day after day and night after night, to appreciate \nwhat a magnificent heritage is ours, and what a wonderful \nopportunity there is here for the spread of our new, grand \ngospel of the truth of the living God. \n\nBranching off from the Canadian Pacific before I reached \nVancouver, because I had not time to go to the end of the \nroute, I took a steamer and sailed all the afternoon over \nPuget Sound, — one of the most beautiful sheets of water \nthat I have ever seen, — until I reached Seattle at ten o'clock \nat night. Puget Sound and its immediate vicinity I believe to \nbe that part of our country which is to see the most wonder- \nful development inside the next fifteen or twenty years. It is \na sheet of water in which there is neither a reef nor a shoal \nthroughout its whole extent. Any ship can sail anywhere \nwithout a pilot or guide. Seattle is a beautiful city on the \neastern side of the Sound, about thirty miles from its southern \nend, — a city of fifty thousand people. It is the best sup- \nplied with street railways and with means of travel of any \ncity I have ever seen. It is full of life, of energy, of am- \nbition, of hope. Here there is a vigorous, earnest, new \nUnitarian church. I preached there Sunday morning, the \nmorning after my arrival, and helped install the new min- \nister, a grandson of old Dr. Eliot of St. Louis and son of \nDr. Eliot of Portland, Ore. He has done what I believe is \nthe wisest thing, — broken up his studies at Harvard one \nyear before finishing his course, and gone West to take that \npractical training which can come only in the field, — that \n\n\nkind of training which for the minister, though overlooked \ntoo often, is as useful and important as is the hospital train- \ning for the young physician. I helped informally to install \nhim that Sunday morning, and that was his first appear \nance in the pulpit for the beginning of his new work. \n\nI took the steamer that afternoon after preaching in Se- \nattle and sailed for Tacoma, thirty miles away, — another city \nof about the same size as Seattle, situated on the western \nside of Puget Sound and at the head of its navigation. I \nshall not make any comparison between these two cities, for \nI discovered the fact that they love each other about as Min- \nneapolis and St. Paul do. I wish to keep on the right side \nof both of them, for some time in my life I hope to see both \nof them again, and I should not offer praise to one of them \nwithout duplicating it for the other, so perhaps I had better \nnot enter into any extended praise of either. I will only say \nthat they are twin sisters, and he would be a wise man who \ncould foretell which will be the greater. Both are full of life \nand power, full of that new energy of the far North-west. I \nhave seen nothing quite like it anywhere else in my trip. \nTacoma also has a strong, earnest, though young, Unitarian \nchurch. All the leading business men of the city are Uni- \ntarians. And I found that the principal bank of the place is \ncalled the first Unitarian bank of Tacoma, from the fact that \nalmost everybody connected with it is a Unitarian. I cannot \ngo on without stopping here one moment to try to suggest to \nyou the most wonderful vision of beauty and magnificence I \nhave ever seen on any journey that I have ever taken round \nthe world. I am glad that nobody had spoken to me about \nit. I was sitting on the deck of the little steamer ; and I had \nhardly left the harbor of Seattle before, way off against the \nperfect blue of the clear sky, I saw what I supposed was a \ncloud. I looked at it a second time, because it seemed to \nme that its outlines were a little too definite and that they re- \ntained their shape too long for a cloud. I looked, and looked \nagain, until at last it took shape, and not settled, but reached \ndown to the earth at my feet ; and I found myself gazing upon \n\n\n8 \n\nthe grandest mountain upon which my eyes have ever looked, \n— Mount Tacoma. Most mountains, as you know, we only \npartly see, If you wish to see Pike's Peak, for example, you \nmust go to Colorado Springs; and there you are half the \nheight of the peak from the sea before you see it at all, and \nthen it is surrounded and hidden by foot-hills, so that it is \nonly a little of the top that is visible. Imagine a mountain \nthat is fourteen thousand eight hundred feet high, twice the \nheight of Mount Washington, standing alone, unhidden by any \nfoot-hills to take away from its dignity, so that, as you sit on \nthe deck of the steamer, you see all its mighty bulk from the \nwater up, lofty, white, glistening forth against the perfect sky. \nI do not know of any other mountain that can be seen in \nprecisely this way, and I thanked God for \" the strength of \nthe hills,\" for the suggestions of magnificence and power. \nIf I never see it again, that vision of might, of loftiness, of \nbeauty, will go with me as an inspiration, something to make \nme feel the greatness of God as almost nothing else upon \nwhich my eyes have looked. \n\nLeaving Tacoma, after preaching and lecturing both there \nand at Seattle, I took the cars for Portland. Here, as you \nknow, is one of the oldest outposts on the Pacific Coast. \nFor many years we had only two churches west of the Rocky \nMountains, one at San Francisco and one at Portland. \nPortland is a live, flourishing city, surrounded by unsur- \npassed agricultural wealth, a city on the Willamette River, \nat a little way from its junction with the Columbia. And \nhere pardon me again for a moment, though it does not \nseem necessarily a part of my theme, if I say that all the \nother rivers upon which I have looked dwindle into insignifi- \ncance when compared with the Columbia. The natural \nbeauty and grandeur of the Hudson are nowhere in compari- \nson with it. The Hudson has only the advantage of the \nbeautiful villas and the civilization that has so long peopled \nits banks. At Portland there is an old, strong church ; and \nits minister, who has been there a quarter of a century, is a \npower in the whole city, having the respect and admiration, \nthe love of all. Here, also, I preached and lectured. \n\n\nThen, taking the train again, a ride of two nights and a \nday brought me to San Francisco. We do not appreciate, \nhere in our little New England, what are the distances,, the \ngreatness of our heritage, in the West. Remember that the \nState of California, if it were laid along our Atlantic coast, \nwould stretch from Boston on the north to Charleston, S.C., \non the south. I was speaking of the size of one of their \ncounties, a newly created one that had been cut off from one \nstill larger ; and I found that this county was a good deal \nlarger than the State of Massachusetts. A ride, then, of two \nnights and a day brought me to San Francisco, or, rather, to \nOakland, which was the objective point of my journey. \n\nThe Rev. C. W. Wendte, known well to you all, was here \nlast spring ; and he besought me to come West the latter part \nof the summer, and dedicate for him his new church. In a \ncity of sixty or seventy thousand people, just across the bay \nfrom San Francisco, standing relatively to that city as Brook- \nlyn does to New York, Mr. Wendte has created this new \nchurch. Five years ago there was no church there of our \nkind. He has organized one of the strongest churches on the \ncoast, and has built the most beautiful church in the whole \ncity of Oakland. I went out on purpose to dedicate this \nchurch. After lecturing there on Friday night, there came \nthe Sunday morning service. His auditorium seats seven \nhundred ; but Sunday-school room and every available place \nwere thrown open, and we were face to face with an audience \nof fifteen hundred people, with hundreds who could not even \nget through the doors. He had provided everything for the \nfuture of the church. Everything was paid or arranged for, \nso that it was no longer a burden, with the exception of \ntwelve thousand dollars' floating debt. It was a fine audi- \nence. From half-past ten o'clock in the morning until half- \npast one they sat and stood, and listened and, waited. I did \nnot see a soul leave the church, even after the contribution \nbegan. At the close of my sermon the Rev. Thomas Van \nNess stepped forward, not to beg, but in a simple, quiet \nway stated the situation, and said that Mr. Wendte would \n\n\nlO \n\nstart in his work with so much more of courage if that twelve \nthousand dollars that worried him could be provided for. \nIn less than twenty minutes $11,650 had been pledged. The \nrest of it came in the way of voluntary offerings during the \nday. And so the church starts strong, free from debt, and \nfull of courage and hope. So successful were we in the \none thing that led me, in the first instance, to take up the \njourney. \n\nI also preached twice and lectured once in San Francisco. \nSan Francisco is of course the stronghold of our faith on the \nPacific Slope ; and Unitarianism can never be anything but \na pride in that city, not only for what the church is to-day, \nfor what it and its minister, Dr. Stebbins, are doing, but \nfor its memories. The memory of that church is a royal \nthing in San Francisco and throughout the State; for the \nyoung Starr King, dying at thirty-nine, had helped more \nthan any other one man on the coast to save the grand State \nof California to the Union. He stood for patriotism, for \nhumanity. He stood for all that touches and stirs the hearts \nof men. They have not forgotten him. They carry him in \ntheir hearts, whether they be orthodox or heterodox ; and \nnow they are preparing to erect a grand monument to him \nin the finest of their public parks. Unitarianism is prosper- \nous there. If I were to criticise our denomination and its \ncause in San Francisco, it would be only to suggest what \nthey are already beginning to recognize themselves : that \nthey have not quite aroused to the exertion of their magnifi- \ncent power for the spread of the cause in other parts of the \ncountry. They are rich, earnest, strong. They can do \ntwice as much as they are doing, and they will do it before \nmany months or years have passed away. \n\nI lectured also in San Josd, one of the loveliest places I \nhave ever seen. It is at the head of the bay of San Fran- \ncisco, about fifty miles from this latter city. They are just \nlaying the foundations of a new church building, which is \ngoing to be in one of the finest parts of the city. So per- \nfectly beautiful is the country that there was both pertinence \n\n\nII \n\nand force in the remark made by one of the leading mem- \nbers of the Baptist church there. He risked the stability of \nhis own faith by coming to hear me lecture ; and he said the \nnext morning to one of the Unitarians : \" Mr. Savage does \nnot seem to believe in the Garden of Eden. Why don't you \ntake him for a drive through the immediate neighborhood, \nand let him see that it is right here ? \" Indeed, it is beautiful \nenough for any Garden of Eden, ancient or modern. \n\nI also lectured at Alameda, another beautiful town across \nthe bay from San Francisco, where with a young, earnest, \nclear-headed minister there is hope and certainty of fine \nsuccess. I also ought to say before leaving the neighbor- \nhood of the Golden Gate that the Rev. Thomas Van Ness, \nthe superintendent of our work on the Pacific Coast, is or- \nganizing a new Second Church in San Francisco, in the \neastern part of the city. It has great promise, and will un- \ndoubtedly be strong and self-supporting within a short time. \n\nI ought also to say that everywhere I heard the general \nwork of Mr. Van Ness spoken of with enthusiasm. He \nis regarded as a man of business energy and executive \ncapacity, as well as a fine preacher. \n\nIt was a question about this time as to whether I should \ncease my work and return in time to be present at the \nNational Conference. But the appeals came to me from so \nmany directions, and with so much force, that I determined \nto keep on there. So I took the train a day and a night \nfor San Diego, the southernmost city in the State. This, I \nthink, so far as its natural features are concerned, is the \nmost beautiful location for a city that I have ever seen. Ii \nis suffering just now from a tremendous reaction that fol- \nlowed the most unreasoning boom of its real estate. As an \nillustration of what this boom meant, how wild and almost \ninsane f)eople became, I know of one gentleman who had \nbought a lot in San Diego for which he had paid five hun- \ndred dollars. During the boom he refused thirty thousand \ndollars, and still has it on his hands. It is suffering, then, \nCOKlay from a reaction from this sort of unnatural develop- \n\n\n12 \n\nment ; yet there is a strong church there, with promise for \nthe future, only they must be patient, and trust to natural \nmethods of growth. I said this is a beautiful city. I have \nnever seen a more perfect night than that on which I lectured \nthere. It was a full moon, and the sky and the water of a \ncolor, beauty, transparency and softness that I have seen \nnowhere else outside of Italy. It is something to remember \nfor one's lifetime to have seen a night like that, when it \nseemed almost profanation to go indoors. The air was so \nfull of balm and sweetness and clearness that one would \nchoose even to sleep where the stars might be the guardians \nof his dreams. \n\nLeaving San Diego, I lectured in Los Angeles, a lovely, \nstrong city, growing with a healthy growth now, though it \nalso suffered in the way of reaction from an unreasonable \nboom. It is in the midst of a paradise where almost any- \nthing will grow. We have the tropics there in Southern \nCalifornia. The banana palm, the fan palm, the date palm, \nolive orchards, orange orchards, fig orchards, raisin ranches, \nwineries, — everything that can be grown anywhere on the \nface of the earth almost is growing there. A land of beauty, \nof warmth, of health, — it seems to me, at least, that it is the \nparadise of the poor. There can be no suffering there such \nas we have in the slums of our Northern cities when people \nare pinched and suffering with the cold. If they have to \nsleep out of doors there, it is very little hardship ; and the \nnatural products of the earth would keep any man from star- \nvation who is willing to take the trouble to lift the food to \nhis lips. We have a flourishing church in Los Angeles ; and \nRev. Mr. Thomson, who was in Somerville, Mass., only a \nlittle while ago, is their minister, — a man of power and pop- \nularity, who is laying the foundation for a new church, their \nold one having been burned. They are going to build a \nbetter church in a better location than the one which they \nhave lost. \n\nSeven miles from Los Angeles is a place which many \npeople who have visited it think is the most beautiful in \n\n\n13 \n\nSouthern California, the town of Pasadena. The name \nthey told me meant \"the crown of the valley,\" it being at \nthe head of a lovely valley. Here there was no Unitarian \nchurch, but a Universalist church in which I lectured. It is \nso nearly like a Unitarian one that, if all the Universalist \nchurches were of the same kind, I would as soon have them \nunder that name as any other. \n\nComing North, I stopped and lectured in Fresno, a city of \n20,000, on a plain seventy miles across, surrounded by moun- \ntains,— a hot place, and so th^ paradise of the grape culture. \nHere there is a church which met at first without any minis- \nter, where the people who are liberal-minded got together \nwithout knowing whether they would be named this thing or \nthat. They had not yet been christened. They had called \na minister who was a Universalist, and who is so much in \nsympathy with our cause that the probability is that the \nchurch will soon be placed in the line of Unitarian churches \nin our Year-book. \n\nThen I started for the East. I wish to note one or two \nthings on the way on my return. I was fortunate in so \ntiming my journey that I could spend a Sunday in Salt Lake. \nIn the morning I went to the Unitarian church, which at pres- \nent is being held in a theatre. The Rev. David Utter, re- \ncently in Chicago, has gone to Salt Lake ; and a church has \nbeen bom there, like Minerva, — full grown. The very first \nyear they paid their minister three thousand dollars' salary, \nand asked no help from any one. They are meeting in a \ntheatre, and will build themselves a church as soon as they \nthink it is wise to take that step. They are strong, vigorous, \nand prosperous in every way. \n\nId the afternoon I saw that great Mormon service in the \nTabernacle, a building wonderful in its construction, without \na pillar in the way of support, simply an oblong arch above. \nIt seats, they say, ten thousand people. It was so full that, \nnot being early enough, I got a poor seat. Its acoustic \nproperties are as wonderful as its size, and with the excep- \ntion of a few words I heard everything that was said. I \n\n\n'4 \n\nheard the two men whom of all others of the Mormon \nleaders I would prefer to listen to. Joseph F. Smith, who \nhas been under the ban of the law for the crime of polygamy, \nand has not been able to show himself openly in Salt Lake \nfor seven years, was present for the first time after pardon \nhad been extended to him by President Harrison. Of \ncourse there was a large throng anxious to hear him, as he \nis the nephew of Joseph Smith, the famous founder of the \nchurch of Latter Day Saints. And, then, George Q. Cannon, \nwho for many years has been a member of Congress from \nUtah, who is the head, front, and brains of the body at pres- \nent, although his official position is not the highest, was the \nsecond speaker, so that I was able to study this peculiar \nsurvival of the religious life of a past age. \n\nComing East from Salt Lake City, I stopped at Denver. A \nfew years ago there was only one Unitarian church in all that \nregion. Some of you will remember that four years ago I \nwent to Denver to dedicate a church, one of the finest in \nthe city. That was the only one in the State. Now there is a \nchurch at Boulder, one at Colorado Springs, one at Pueblo, \nand one at Greeley ; and they are organized into a Rocky \nMountain Conference. Unfortunately, the minister at Den- \nver, Rev. Samuel A. Eliot, son of President Eliot, is in poor \nhealth. He has not been able to preach for several Sundays. \nIt is possible that he may be obliged to give up his work ; \nbut, if he does, the work is so organized that it will go right \non, and it will call some other able man to take his place, \nfor Denver is one of the most progressive, earnest, and hope- \nful cities between here and the Golden Gate. \n\nOne stop more I made, in Kansas City. There also I \nlectured. There, as well as in San Francisco, I made an \naddress to the Unitarian Club. There is a strong, earnest \nchurch, under a perfectly competent leadership. One of the \nbest of our ministers in the West is pastor of the church at \nKansas City. \n\nThese few words as to the ground I have covered, the \nchurches I have seen, the ministers I have conferred with. \n\n\nIS \n\nmay suggest to you something of the reach of our work. \nNext Sunday I wish to speak to you of certain religious \nconditions which I have discovered both inside and outside \nof our denomination, both among those who are affiliated \nwith the old churches and those who are affiliated with no \nchurches at all. I wish to suggest to you what a wonderful \nnational outlook there is, grander than it has ever been be- \nfore for our cause. \n\n\nPilbUalied. \"weekly. Price $1.50 fi year, or 5 cents sinfirle copy. \n\n\nUNITY PULPIT \n\nBOSTON \n\n\nSERMONS OF M. J. SAVAGE \n\n\nVol. 13 OCTOBER 23, 1891 No. 2 \n\n\nODR WESTERN OPPORTUNITY \n\n\nBOSTON \n\nGEORGE H. ELLIS, 141 FRANKLIN STREET \n\n1891 \n\nBmiend at the Poit-ofiee, BotUm^ Man., oj $eeond^lau maU matter. \n\n\n00126 1H9i \n\n\nA WORD FROM THE PUBLISHER OF \nUNITY PULPIT. \n\n\nNeither Mr. Savage nor the publisher receives any pecuniary profit \nfrom the publication of Unity Pulpit^ the subscription price only cover- \ning the cost ; but both are anxious to extend the range of its influence. \nIt is read now in every part of the world, but we wish to increase the \nnumber of those it touches. \n\nWe therefore ask two things of its present readers. \n\n1st, Will those who already take it and pay for it do what they can to \nget new subscribers ? \n\n2d, Will those who receive \\x gratis consider whether they are not able \nto become regular subscribers ? In this way, they will make it possible \nto give a copy to some new person in the missionary field. \n\nAbout eight hundred copies a week are now ^ivtn away for missionary \nuse. aiid tlieie is a constant call for more. \n\nGeo. H. Ellis, Publisher. \n\nOctober. 1S91. \n\n\nOUR WESTERN OPPORTUNITY. \n\n\n** In the morning sow thy seed, and in the evening withhold not thy \nhand ; for thou knowest not whether shall prosper, either this or that, or \nwhether they both shall be alike good.\" — Ecc. xi. 6. \n\nI HAVE never been one of those who have expected any \nsudden or abnormal growth on the part of our religion. I \nhave never believed that it was adapted to spread rapidly^ \nlike a fire, over the land. The rise, sudden growth, and ex- \ntension of a religion like that of Methodism are easily under- \nstood. It meant not a new forward movement of thought r \nit meant only the setting on fire of the universally accepted \ntraditions and beliefs of Christendom, a consistent and ear- \nnest carrying out of what eviery one claimed to believe. It \nmeant only kindling in the hearts of the common people the \npractical application of that which they claimed to accept. \nNow and then I hear some one say, some one perhaps of our \nleaders, that Unitarianism, by the very fact of its being so \nsimple and easily comprehended a faith, is adapted to the \ngreat body of plain people and that, if it were rightly pre- \nsented, it would naturally and easily spread over the land. \nI cannot accept this; for, if we think of it a little care- \nfully, you will see that Unitarianism, as contrasted, for ex- \nample, with Methodism, means a new forward movement of \nthought as well as life. It means a surrender of old things \nand the acceptance of new things. It means that people \nmust be prepared somehow to accept that which they have \ntraditionally never been inclined to look upon with any \nfavor. Simple ? It is simple, this faith of ours, as com- \n\n* Phooographically reported. \n\n\npared with any of the old forms of belief. But it seems \nquite strange to me that the people who put this forward as \na reason for its ready acceptance do not comprehend the \nfact that this is the very reason why it is not readily accepted. \nSimplicity in music, simplicity in art, simplicity in manners, \nsimplicity in dress, simplicity anywhere, is a mark, and per- \nhaps the result, of the highest culture. It is not the plain \npeople, the great mass of the world, who are contented with \nsimplicity : it is those who have been trained to an apprecia- \ntion of the fact that the highest beauty is in that which is the \nsimplest. \n\nConsider for a moment two or three things that are requi- \nsite for a person to become an intelligent and convinced \nUnitarian. There are persons who are born into the Unita- \nrian belief. I am not referring to those. A man can be born \nintoUnitarianism without any thinking about it as easily as \nhe can be born into Presbyterianism or any other form of \nbelief ; and the result many a time is that, when a man is \nborn into Unitarianism, he comes into it with a lack of \nthought that is an obstruction to any farther growth, and \nwith a bigotry which is as unnatural and unreasonable as \nthat with which we charge the older forms of belief. There \nare Unitarian bigots as easily as there are Methodist bigots. \nBigotry is not a quality confined to any denomination : it is \na human quality. I know Unitarians, born so, who by virtue \nof that fact have come to believe that no farther growth is \npossible, and that wisdom will die with them ; and because \nof that I know any number of men to-day in the older de- \nnominations who are outstripping them and leaving them \nhopelessly behind, because they have not come to the con- \nclusion that they have done all the thinking that is required \nof any man. I am not speaking of this class of people, \nthen. I refer to those who become Unitarians by convic- \ntion, whom we must look to if our religion is to grow and \nassume the significance that we believe surely it must assume \nbecause we believe it stands for God's larger truth. \n\nWhat must a man do ? A man, to become a Unitarian, \n\n\nmust learn something in the way of independence of think- \ning. He must read or study or think sufficiently to become \nconvinced that his old ideas are inadequate, that there is a \nnewer, higher truth abroad in the world. You will see, then, \nthat this stands in the way of any sweeping, sudden, wide- \nspread acceptance of our ideas. A man must be capable of \nsome independent thinking. He must look over the world, \nand make up his mind and be convinced as a rational \nbeing. \n\nThen it takes another quality. It takes courage ; and you \nhere in Massachusetts have very little idea as to how much \ncourage it takes in some parts of the country to become a \nUnitarian. I have no sympathy with those who talk of \nmartyrdom in this nineteenth century. The days of fagots \nand thumbscrews and inquisitions are gone by ; and it is so \npale, so poor, so petty a shadow of the old martyrdom that \npursues a man who dares to think for himself to-day that \nonly a weakling or a coward will stop to think much about \nit. And yet it does take courage. I know places in this \ncountry, large numbers of them, where Unitarianism is not \nin all the air where it is not popular, where, if one dares to \nbe a Unitarian, he must surrender certain things, the best \nsociety, for example, on the part of a lady ; to be looked \nupon as outside the pale of the older, fashionable churches, \nlo be looked upon as odd and peculiar. For a business man \nit sometimes means running the risk of the loss of his busi- \nness. I know lawyers who tell me frankly that, if they \nshould avow themselves as Unitarians, they would lose half \ntheir clients. It takes courage in some parts of the country \nfor a man to be a Unitarian. \n\nThen it takes faith. A man thinks, and he finds out that \nhe cannot hold his old ideas any longer ; but he does not \nsee to what the new ideas lead clearly enough so that a way \nseems open to him. He must, then, walk by faith. He does \nnot know what the outcome is to be ; and so he hesitates, \nlingers, and needs to have the faith of the old patriarch, who \nwas called the \" Friend of God,\" who did not wait for a map \n\n\nof the promised land to be presented to him. The record \nsays he went out, not knowing whither he went. That is \nfaith, — the faith that is ready to go out of the outgrown \npast, not into the pleasantly prepared future, but into the \nwork of making a future, creating a future large enough and \ngrand enough for newer and higher ideas. It takes this to \nmake a good Unitarian out of one who was not born so, — in- \ndependent thinking, courage, and faith. And these are not \nqualities so readily found. They do not sweep over the \nface of the earth like a new-bom enthusiasm. It is only \nwhen thoughtful, earnest, courageous men meet and organize \na centre of a new movement that our Unitarianism must \ngrow. \n\nI have said these few things to justify the position which I \nhave always taken, — that Unitarianism is not a faith to grow \nrapidly by contagion, as a new form of the old belief will \nwhere no great convictions have to be cast aside or changed. \n\nNow, I am ready to present to you some thoughts that I \nhave gathered up while I have been away concerning the \ncondition of things in this country, which seem to me to \nmake the present time peculiarly ripe and ready for the ex- \ntension of our work. I believe there has never been a time \nin the history of this country where the opportunity has been \nso wide, so open, so accessible, as it is this hour. I wish to \nillustrate and point out the characteristics of some of the \ndifferent classes of people that I have met and studied while \nI have been away. \n\nI gave you last Sunday a little hint of what the West of \nthis country means to-day. I am not very old; but I re- \nmember, when I was a boy, hearing my father talk about peo- \nple going \" way out West,\" into the Genesee Valley, in the \nState of New York ! And then the northern part of Ohio, \nthat was West, indeed ! A half-brother of mine went to \nMissouri in those old days, before I was born. And I \nremember seeing father reading letters from him* in the \ndays before our present rapid transit, when the mail was \ncarried at great expense, and it cost from fifty to seventy- \n\n\nfive cents or a dollar to get the smallest message from that \nfar-off State of Missouri on the other side of the Mississippi \nRiver. But where is \"out West \"to-day? The Mississippi \nRiver is close at our door. The half-way place between \nhere and San Francisco is hundreds of miles beyond the \nMississippi, in the great State of Nebraska. And some of \nyou will be astonished, if you have not had your attention \ncalled to it, to find that, when you reach San Francisco, you \nare not \"out West \" even then. If you take our new great \ncountry of Alaska and draw a line from the most eastern \npart of our possessions on this continent — the most eastern \npoint in the State of Maine — to the extreme limit of Alaska, \nand cut it in two at the half-way point, it will fall in the \nPacific Ocean, west of the Golden Gate. The country, then, \nhas grown in magnificence, in extent, in possibility, beyond \nanything that we could have dreamed. I read the other day \na part of a lecture given by Senator Ingalls only a little \nwhile ago in Chicago, — which I have not taken the pains \nto verify, — in which he stated that in the days of Shakspere \nthere were only about eight or ten millions of English- \nspeaking people on the globe. To-day there are thirty or \nforty millions in Great Britain, sixty millions here ; and \nthen, when we remember Canada and the English posses- \nsions in South Africa, Japan, India, the Hawaiian Islands, \nAustralia, New Zealand, the English-speaking people, this \nfree thinking, aggressive, colonizing, Protestant people, are \nencircling the globe. Think, then, of the course that is \nopen to-day for a free thought or a new idea to run. \nThink of the incipient empires that it takes only a feeble \nimagination to picture as dominating the future. \n\nNow, what kind of people are those whom we find in this \ngreat, new West ? \n\nIn the first place, naturally they are people who have had \nthe courage to \" pull up stakes '' and move their tents to the \nWestward. They are men with the colonizing spirit in them, \n— men able to break away from the old home and the old asso- \nciations, led by the dream of creating a better future. That \n\n\n8 \n\nis the kind of men, and they are the ones who are accessible \nto new thinking. The man who can break away from his \nold home and create a new home in the West is capable \nalso of breaking away from an old idea and holding it as \noutworn, and creating a new home for his heart and his soul. \nThis one suggestion alone shows you what an opportunity \nthere is for the grander and higher thought of the modern \nworld. \n\nThen there are thousands of people in all the growing \ntowns and in the cities of the West who are unchurched. \nThey have thought until they have found themselves out of \nthe old churches, and they never are going back into them. \nYou might as well crowd a hatched eagle back into his shell. \nWhere are they going ? I believe, and so do you, that this \nreligious instinct, this religious need of ours, is inherent, \nnatural, human, eternal. They are not going to be per- \nmanently without a religion. I came across a very sugges- \ntive illustration of this while I was away. I shall not men- \ntion names or places, lest people should think that I have \nmade too free of the facts that have come to my knowl- \nedge. \n\nThere is one young, growing city that I visited, and in \nwhich I spoke, where there was no liberal church at all from \nthe time of its foundation until within the last year or two. \nThey had no idea of forming a liberal church. But there \nwas a large body of thoughtful, earnest people, who felt this \nreligious instinct and need, who said, \" We must have some \nsort of a society.\" They wanted sympathy, they wanted \nco-operation, they wanted a chance to work together for \nsome human end ; and so they came together and organized. \nThey did not call it a church : they called it an independent \nsociety. They had no idea whether they were Universalists \nor Unitarians, and such a thing as a label had never entered \ntheir minds. But they followed the leading of this great \nneed of the human heart and mind, and they waked up to \nfind that they were Unitarians wiihout knowing it; and it \nwill not be long before they will be in full affiliation with \n\n\noar societies and helping us in our work. There are, \nthen, thousands of these people who are unchurched. \n\nAs my third point, concerning this matter of the prepara- \ntion of the field, I wish to speak of something that I have \nreferred to a good many times in the past. You are familiar \nwith the fact that now and then I point out to you signs of \nchange, of reconstruction, going on in the old churches. I \nhave been fairly startled while I have been away by fresh \ndiscoveries that I have made in this direction. Let me hint \nto you two or three illustrations. \n\nIn one city where I lectured, one of the leading orthodox \nministers was present. The day after I met one of his \nparishioners, a cultivated, intelligent, earnest man, — a man \nwho once on a time was a parishioner of mine. In discuss- \ning the religious situation, he said: \"My minister was pres- \nent to hear you last night. I would like to have you meet \nhim \" ; but he added with a smile, \" I do not suppose he \nwould like to talk with you,\" intimating that he was so com- \npletely in sympathy with the ideas to which I had given ex- \npression that, if he did, he would be obliged to commit \nhimself in a more public way than he was yet prepared \nto do. \n\nIn another city where I lectured, I had referred among \nothers to Dr. Heber Newton of New York as one of the pro- \ngressive leaders of modem thought in the old churches ; and \nan Episcopal clergyman who was present came to me after- \nwards, and, with a smile and a hand-shake, said, \" There are \nmore of us than Newton,\" as much as to say that he wanted \nto be counted in in the same category, and intimating that \nthere were many more of whom he knew. \n\nLet me call your attention to a book from the other side \nof the water, showing that this is not a local thing, but is in \nthe currents of air that are belting the earth. A German \nnobleman, an officer in the German army, Herr von Egidy, \nhas lately issued a brochure, or small book, entitled, in the \nEnglish translation, \" Serious Thoughts.\" He supposes that \nhe is practically alone, or at any rate that he may possibly \n\n\nlO \n\nbe leading a new reformation in Germany. A German lady \nbrought me the book, handling it as though she thought it \nwere dynamite. She asked me to look it over, and let her \nknow if I thought it was safe or wise for her to introduce it \nfor a wider reading in this country. I thought there must \nbe something peculiarly dangerous, or possibly something \nwhich should be regarded by our public as disreputable in \nthe book. What was my astonishment, as I came to read it \nwith care, to find that it was nothing in the wide world except \nwhat Unitarians have been preaching for fifty years. He \nthought it was a new gospel. It is plain, common, simple \nUnitarianism all through the book. But he declares — and I \nthink he is right — that the only way to save Christianity in \nGermany is to drop these utterly unbelievable things, and \nbring the Church into accord with the highest thought and \nnoblest life of the age. Here, then, is a movement in Ger- \nmany along this line. I know not what may be its extent. \n\nNow let me refer to one or two illustrations more in the \nFar West. In one place in California where I spoke, a \nMethodist clergyman, bearing a name well known over this \ncountry, came to me afterwards and avowed himself in com- \nplete sympathy with my views. He has ceased preaching, \nalthough a member in full communion with the Methodist \nChurch. He has lost one position which he held as a \nteacher on account of his liberal ideas. He is about ac- \ncepting another. He does not feel called upon to say that \nhe is not a Methodist; but he is, as a matter of fact, a clean- \ncut, radical Unitarian. \n\nIn a city of California where I lectured, the superintendent \nof schools came to me, — and this is one of the most striking \ntestimonies which I met, — and said he had listened to the \nlecture the night before. He sat down by me at the hotel \nbreakfast-table, and had a long talk with me. He said to \nme : \" I am a member of the Presbyterian Church, and I am \nacquainted with large numbers of the membership of this \nChurch throughout the State. I accept without question or \nreserve every single position which you took last night,\" — \n\n\nII \n\nand I did not leave room enough to contain a bit of Presby- \nterianism large enough to be seen with the Lick telescope. \nYet he said, \"I accept everything which you have said.\" \nHe went on to say that, in his judgment, more than fifty \nper cent, of the membership of the Presbyterian Church stand \nto-day just where he does. I said then, in some amazement, \n\" Why do you do nothing about it ? Why do you still print \nand scatter all over Europe and America a confession of \nfaith which you totally reject ? Why do you let that stand \nas an expression of your belief ? Why do you not all come \nout and squarely stand where you are ? \" Then we had a \nlong talk, that led me somewhat into the secret of the state \nof mind of large numbers of these people. He says they \nhave found out that they do not believe the old creed. They \nare permeated with the teachings of the modern scientific \nconception of the universe, of God and of man. They do \nnot believe any longer in the fall, in total depravity, or arbi- \ntrary future punishment. But he said they have not thought \nthemselves any farther. They do not know where they are. \nThey are afraid to take the next step. They are afraid to \ntouch the confession of faith, lest there should be nothing of \nit left when they are through. They have been taught that \nthis is religion ; and they have a sort of inward fear that, if \nthey give this up, they are becoming irreligious, that they \nare surrendering religion. They have the feeling that these \nteachings have been bound up with the moral order of the \nuniverse, and that chaos will come upon them if they sur- \nrender them. They do not see the way. They do not quite \nknow what is to come after the confession of faith. This is \nthe condition of mapy whom you will find all over the land \nto-day. I do not mean to be understood as saying that half \nthe members of the Presbyterian Church are consciously dis- \nbelievers of its creed, or that the Methodists and Congrega- \ntionalists are disbelievers of their creeds. I do mean to say \nthat these organizations are permeated with these liberal \nideas, and that they are gradually waking up to the con- \nsciousness that the old universe is passing away. They are \n\n\n12 \n\nbewildered and alarmed, and they do not quite know what is \nto be next. This is the condition of things. \n\nI wish now to suggest what seem to me to be practical \nmatters in the line of our Unitarian duty, in the face of a \nsituation like this. In the first place, it seems to me that \nUnitarian ism should rouse itself to a comprehension of the \nsituation. One thing I am amazed at; and that is the bat- \nblindness, and what shall I call it except ignorance, on the \npart of any number of our Unitarian ministers in Boston and \nthroughout New England, concerning what the real situation \nof things in the country is, and what the word \"country\" \ncovers or means. Men are born and brought up under the \nshadow of the gilded dome, and live perhaps half their lives \nout with the impression that the horizon is commensurate \nwith the fence that bounds their dooryard. They do not \nseem to realize how large a place the country is, or what \nis going on in it, or what is the opportunity. We want \nto rouse ourselves as a denomination to a comprehension of \nof the situation. \n\nThen we need a wise supervision of these far-off fields. \n\nLet me hint as to what I mean. What do the Catholics \ndo.? The Catholics are omnipresent. I say this to their \npraise, not to their discredit. Whenever a new town is \nstarted, there they are ; and, no matter who else is there, you \nare sure to find them in possession of some of the most \ndesirable lots in the new town, — places for churches, for \nschools, for convents, for Sisters of Charity and Mercy. The \nMethodists are almost equally omnipresent through their \norganization, under bishops and presiding elders. They \nkeep their eyes open concerning all that is in the field. \nWhat do Unitarians do ? Generally this : they do not do \nanything at all until a town has grown up and improved ; and \nthen they come in and, at a big price, buy a suitable lot for a \nchurch that would have been given to them gladly five or \nten years before. That is what they do. They wait until \neverybody else gets in ahead of them. They do tiot seem \nto have any practical supervision of the ground, so as to \n\n\n13 \n\nrealize what the opportunities are. I know any number of \nplaces where they are buying lots to-day for five or eight or \nten thousand dollars where five or ten years ago they might \nhave had them for five hundred dollars, or might have had \nthem free. \n\nWe Unitarians need another thing ; and I have seen one \nor two painful illustrations of it. We need to comprehend \nthe fact that acorns, if you give them time, become oaks, \nalthough they are acorns at the start. We need to compre- \nhend the significance of small beginnings, and to learn how \nin those climates at the West small things grow to large with \na rapidity we cannot dream of here. Take a climate where \na certain species of trees will grow twelve feet in a year, and \nyou may be sure that other things will grow, too, and with a \nrapidity that we do not easily imagme in this more sterile \nsoil and hardy climate of New England. I knbw places at \nthe West, where a good many of our ministers at the East \nwould not think of settling, which will be big enough for any \nman to fill within the next ten years. We need to take pos- \nsession of these seeds of the future, and mould and shape \nthem as they grow. \n\nTake as an illustration, — and I will speak freely here, \nthough it may touch a conflict in judgment with some who \ndo not agree with me, — take such an opportunity as there is \nat Berkeley. Oakland is a city of sixty or eighty thousand \ninhabitants across this bay from San Francisco, — a wonder- \nfully beautiful city. About two miles from it is one of the \nmost delightful situations for a town that I ever knew. This \nis Berkeley, the site of the State University of California, \nwhich is magnificently endowed, having professors whose \nreputation is known around the world, ready to do a work \nsecond to no other in the country. What are the other \ndenominations doing? The Methodists, the Presbyterians, \nthe Baptists, the Congregationalists, the Catholics, all are \nestablishing in this immediate region theological schools, \nschools for the culture and development of men on the \nground, with a view to have them occupy the field because \n\n\n14 \n\nthey comprehend it. What are we doing? We have men \nstanding right in San Francisco and Oakland to back up \nwith money and influence such a movement. We have sent \none or two men from the East to look over the field ; but \nthere is not one who dares to touch it. If I were young and \nfree to-day, there is no place in this country where I would \ngo sooner than to Berkeley, under the shadow of the great \nuniversity, with hundreds and hundreds of young men from \nall parts of the Pacific slope, with an opportunity for an \ninfluence second to no other. I believe that we ought to \nplace a theological school just there. Our young men in the \nEast do not comprehend the problems that need solution on \nthat side of the line. We send a man out from the East ; and \nit takes a year or two before he is worth anything, before he \nknows the people, the situation, the conditions of thought \nand work and life. Men trained in the field are the ones \nwho can best accomplish the work. We need, then, courage \nand earnestness to take hold of these seeds that are to be \nmighty growths in the years to come. \n\nI wish I could speak to all the families of the Unitarian \nfaith, to all the young men of this land. We need, more than \nwe need anything else in the world, men. There is not a \nyoung town or city of five thousand people in this country \nwhere there could not be an earnest, vigorous Unitarian \nchurch inside of two years if we had a man to put there, \ncomprehending the situation and capable of doing the work. \nThere are places waiting on the Pacific slope where the peo- \nple are ready to organize and to make a church, begging for \na man who is not to be found. We need more men to enter \nthis ministry. \n\nLet me say just a word here, — perhaps I have said words \nlike this too infrequently on this subject, — a word to the \nfathers and mothers and to the young men who shall hear \nme, and whom my words may reach in the colder form of \ntype. I do not know of any profession or business or call- \ning, or whatever you please to name it, that any young man \ncan consider, that compares for one moment in importance, \n\n\nIS \n\nin dignity, in manliness, in grandeur, in possibility of \nachievement, with the work of the liberal ministry. If yoi» \nwere obliged to tie yourself to the old beliefs, to become the \nservant of a perfunctory round of meaningless forms, that \nwould be another thing ; but to the free, intelligent, cultured, \nearnest young men who stand on the threshold of this min- \nistry, the universe is open. There is no field, no department \nof thought or life, that may not be made tributary to his work. \nYou know, gentlemen, that in the hundreds of callings in \nwhich you are engaged you are obliged to narrow yourselves \nmentally. You are obliged to put all your time, all your \nability, into simply making your business a practical, finan- \ncial success. You know what the competition of the modern \nworld means, that there is no time for wide and general cult- \nure. I have had men say to me, realizing the situation : \" I \nhave narrowed myself down in this matter of my business \nuntil I cannot engage in or enjoy a thousand other things. \nOn this side of my nature and that I am utterly unde- \nveloped.\" But in a calling like this there is nothing that is \nnot open to a man. He may expand until he is as broad as \nthe truth of things. All that is inspiring in the past, all that \nis inspiring in the future, pays tribute to his thought and \nwork. Whatever else a man may accomplish in this world, \nyou know as well as I, there is nothing comparable in impor- \ntance, in dignity, in beauty, and worth to helping men live, — \nhelping them to solve the problems of life, to fight its bat- \ntles, to create their manhood. Is there anything else com- \nparable to that ? That is what it means to be a liberal min- \nbter to-day. I appeal, then, to those who are reached by my \nwords to consider this field and the magnificence of its oppor- \ntunities. \n\nAnother thing. If I were the despot of the Unitarian \nbody for a few years, — I would like to be, so far as this par- \nticular point is concerned, — I would make one inviolable \nlaw. No young man who should graduate at Cambridge or at \nMeadville should, under any conditions, be allowed to accept \nany pulpit or enter on any field of work east of the Alle- \nghanies until for one year or two he had done genuine mis- \n\n\ni6 \n\nsionary work in the West or on the Pacific slope. In that \nway, he could learn what he was made of ; and he would be of \nmore value wherever he might afterwards be. The trouble \nwith many of our good ministers here is that they know only \na small part of the field. A man needs to know the whole \nfield before he is competent to treat the questions that come \nup for solution, the problems of our liberal ministry. I wish \nthat this thought might come home to the young men who \nare graduating from our Eastern seminaries. It is past my \ncomprehension, I cannot understand it, how any young man \nshould be willing to settle down here, to fall into a little easy \nplace while he is a young man, while all the uprising vigor \nof his young manhood is or ought to be in him ; how he can \nbe content not to go out where there is an opportunity of \nbuilding, of making something on his own account. I began \nmy ministry on the Pacific slope ; and I got such a taste of \nwhat that meant that, when I afterwards thought of settling \nin New England, I found I could not do it. It seemed to \nme like grinding out a music in the composition of which I \nhad had no hand. I thought that I wanted to make some- \nthing on my own account, and so I went West again. If the \nyoung men only knew the inspiration of it, the grandeur of \nit, and how important a part of their training it might be for \ntheir work here, if they wished afterwards to come East \nagain, then I think they would be readier to take up work \nin these far-off places. It needs young men unhampered, who \ncan afford to wait two years before they get married ; young \nmen who can live on little, and are willing to do so until they \ncreate a condition of things that will give them more ; men \nwho can go, not with a trunk or a carload of baggage, but \nwith a grip-sack, and who can stand in the midst of these \nconditions and help them grow into a strength that shall be \nable to carry them and help to carry the general work. \n\nAnd now, at the end, I have no sort of question, no sort \nof fear, as to the outcome of this great Unitarian movement \nof ours. I have come, though not born in it, to love the \nname Unitarian ; but I care also so inexpressibly more for \nthe thing than for the name that I am ready to have the con- \n\n\n17 \n\ndition come without any name, or in any other name if need \nbe. I have no fear as to the outcome of the movement \nitself. The stars of heaven are fighting for us. The human \nmind is fighting for us. The development of the human \nheart is fighting for us. The spelling-book is on our side. \nIt is only a matter of time. It can be only a matter of time. \nIf all the people who are practically with us in this country \nshould come out in a body, there would be an exodus beside \nwhich the departure of the Israelites from Egypt would be \nonly like a holiday excursion. There is no question as to \nthe outcome. When Galileo with his little telescope, which \nwould now be only a plaything, got his first glimpse of the \nmoons of Jupiter, what was the condition of thought in \nEurope as between the Ptolemaic and Copernican systems ? \nThe Ptolemaic theory was held from the pope down to the \nhumblest parish priest and by the entire membership of the \nchurches. It was taught in every school and university. \nEvery professor stood, wrote, and fought for and defended \nit. But when Galileo, that lone man, first saw those moons \nof Jupiter, the Ptolemaic system of the universe was dead. \nIt made no difiFerence whether it took a hundred or a thou- \nsand years for people to find it out. The finding it out was \nonly a question of time. He had discovered the truth which \nantiquated the old ideas, and created a new heaven and a \nnew earth. And so we have discovered, or there has been \nrevealed to us, a new and a higher conception of God, of \nman, of destiny ; and, because it is God*s truth, the eternal \ntruth of things, it must win. The day of its universally ac- \ncepted triumph is only a matter of time. It is for you and \nme to stand ready to help on this day as rapidly as may be, \nwith our faces looking forward, and with the trust and the \npeace of God in our hearts. \n\nFather, this is Thy truth. We bow to it as Thine, we \nconsecrate ourselves to it as Thine, and ask that, with pa- \ntience, in all earnestness, and in all charity, we may do what \nwe can to bring Thy children into an acceptance of that \ntruth which is life now and forever. Amen. \n\n\nMr. Savage's Books. \n\n\nReligious Reconstruction. lamo $i.oo \n\nThese Degeoerate Days. Small i6mo. Flexible 50 \n\nMy Creed. lamo 1.00 \n\nPoems. 16010. Fnllgilt. With portrait z.50 \n\nlight oa the Cload. z6mo. Full gilt 1.25 \n\nSocial Problems, ismo 1.00 \n\nThe Religious Life, ismo x.oo \n\nBehef in Uod. tamo z.oo \n\nBeliefs about Man. zamo z.oo \n\nBelief about the Bible. z.oo \n\nThe Modem Sphinx. lamo z.oo \n\nThe Morals of Evolution, zazno z.oo \n\nTalks about Jesus, zamo z.oo \n\nMan, Woman and Child, zamo z.oo \n\nChristianity the Sdezioe of Manhood, zamo z.oo \n\nThe Religion of ETolotion. zamo z.50 \n\nLife Qaestions. z6mo z .00 \n\nBluffton: A Stonrof To^y. zamo z.fo \n\nHelps for Dailv Liying. zamo z.oo \n\nThe Sipis of tne Times, zamo z.oo \n\nUfe. lamo z.oo \n\nThe Mmister*8 Hand-book. For Christenings, Weddings. \n\nand Funerals. Cloth 75 \n\nSaared Sonn for Public Worship. A Hymn and Tone \n\nBook. Edited by M. J. Savage and Howard M. Dow. \n\nCloth z.oo \n\nLeather z.jo \n\nUnitarian Catechism. With an Introduction by E. A. Horton. \n\nPrice, Paper, per copy ao cents. Perdos., z.50 \n\n** Qoth, •* .... JO '* \" a.sor \n\n\nMr. Savage's weeklv sermons are regnlariv printed in pamphlet \nfonn in \" Unity Pulpit\" Subscription price, tor the season, $t.$o\\ \nangle copies, 5 cents. \n\nGEO, H. ELLIS, PuUisktr, \n\nt4i Franklin St., BosUn, Mau. \n\n\nPabUalied ixreekly. Price $1.50 a year, or 6 cents slnffle cop \n\n\nUNITY PULPIT \n\nBOSTON \n\n\nSERMONS OF M. J. SAVAGE \n\n\nVol. 13 OCTOBER 30, 1891 No. 3 \n\n\nGRIME AND ITS TREATMENT \n\n\nC \nBOSTON \n\nGEORGE H. ELLIS, 141 FRANKLIN STREET \n1891 \n\nEnieni at the Poti-^t^e, Boston, Mau., ot second-clau mati matter. \n\n\nMr. Savage's Books. \n\n\nReligious Reconstruction. lamo $i.oo \n\nThese Degenerate Days. Small z6mo. Flexible 50 \n\nMy Creed, lamo 1.00 \n\nPoems. i6mo. Full gilt. With portrait i.jo \n\nLight on the Qoud. i6mo. Full gilt 1.35 \n\nSocial Problems, lamo z.oo \n\nThe Religious Life, ismo i.oo \n\nBelief in God. zsmo i.oo \n\nBeliefs about Man. zamo i.oo \n\nBeliefs about the Bible i.oo \n\nThe Modem Sphinx, zamo i.oo \n\nThe Morals of Erolution. zamo i.oo \n\nTalks about Jesus, zamo ' . i.oo \n\nMan, Woman and Child, zamo i.oo \n\nChristianity the Science of Manhood, zamo z.oo \n\nThe Religion of Evolution, zamo z.50 \n\nLife Questions. z6mo z .00 \n\nBlufhon: A Stonr of To^y. zamo z.50 \n\nHelps for DaUv Living, zamo z.oo \n\nThe Signs of the Times, lamo z.oo \n\nLife, zamo z.oo \n\nThe Minister's Hand-book. For Christenings, Weddings, \n\nand Funerals. Cloth 75 \n\nSacred Songs for Public Worship. A Hymn and Tune \n\nBook. £dited by M. J. Savage and Howard M. Dow. \n\nCloth 1.00 \n\nLeather z.so \n\nUnitarian Catechism. With an Introduction by E. A. Horton. \n\nPrice, Paper, per copy, .... ao cents. Perdos.. z.50 \n\n•« Cloth, •«.... 30 '• \" S.50 \n\n\nI Mr. Savage's we«klv sermons are regularly printed in pamphlet \n\nform in \" Unity PuIpiL\" Subscription price, tor the season, $z.so; \nI single copies, 5 cents. \n\nI GEO. H. ELLIS, PuMisk^r, \n\nt4i FroMklm St., BatUm, Mkit, \n\n\nCRIME AND ITS TREATMENT.* \n\n\n\" I was in prison, and ye came unto me.\" — Matt. xxv. 36. \n\nAt the outset, I think it will be well for us to get clearly \nin mind one or two definitions. Sin, technically speaking, is \nan offence committed against God. Vice is an offence com- \nmitted chiefly, or first, against ourselves, — a private, personal \nthing. Crime is the breaking of a statute law, supposed to \nbe a social wrong. This is the technical distinction between \nthese words, which are frequently confounded, spoken of as \nthough they stood for substantially the same thing. I wish \nyou to take note that crime is not always evil. Crime may \nbe a sign of degradation, of disintegration, or it may be the \nbudding, the bursting forth, of a new and higher type of civil- \nization. If we look down the course of human history, we \nshall see that a large part of those men whom we most revere \nwere considered criminals by their age. Considered did I \nsay ? They were criminals. That is, they were breakers of \nstatute law. Socrates was a criminal, and was put to death \nas such. Jesus of Nazareth was a criminal. In the times of \nXero and Diocletian all the early Christians were criminals. \nAnd so, as we come down the years, Bruno was a criminal. \nSo was Martin Luther. So were Vanini and Servetus. And \nat a still later period all that grand cluster of men who stand \nout in the firmament of our recent past like stars, whose shin- \ning heralded the dawn of a larger, wider human freedom, — \nthese were criminals, — Channing, Parker, Garrison, Phillips, \nJohn Brown, all the noblest men of their time. I emphasize \n\n* PhoDOgraphically reported. \n\n\nthis, not because it is important this morning, but only for \nclearness of definition, that you may remember that the word \n\"criminal \" is not always a stigma, a disgrace. Sometimes it \nis rather an insignia of honor. \n\nOf course, this morning I am to speak of that other kind \nof crime, that which we find in the lower strata of society, — \nthe crime that means degradation, the crime that disinte- \ngrates, that hurts, that injures, that needs not to be encour- \naged, but to be repressed, to be wiped out of existence. \n\nI think it will help us to understand the nature of crime \nand the relation in which it stands to the order of society if \nwe look at it for a moment in the light of human evolution, — \nif we see, taking human nature as it is, how necessary it is, \nhow it springs out of the nature of things. We need not \nsimply to condemn a thing that is wrong. We need to com- \nprehend it so far as possible ; and then we shall be in a better \nposition intelligently and successfully to deal with it. \n\nWe may figure human progress by the illustration of an \narmy on the march. There has always been the vanguard, the \nleaders. Then there has always been the main body, those \nwho have kept fairly in the ranks, shoulder to shoulder, step \nby step, who have added to the strength of the force, and \nhave not only kept up on the march, but have helped others to \nkeep up, — men who have helped to conserve order and growth. \nThen there has always been the third section of the army. \nI suppose never an army existed without a body of strag- \nglers, of camp followers, those who for one reason or another \nhave fallen out by the way, those who are a burden and call \nfor the help, the attention, the care, of the main body. In- \nstead of adding to its efficiency, they are a source of weakness \nand injury. They call for compassion sometimes, sometimes \nfor serious condemnation ; but they always exist. Never yet \nwas army without them. \n\nWho are these that are stragglers in the rear of every army \non the march ? Sometimes they are those who have become \ntemporarily too weary and footsore to keep up any longer. \nSometimes they are those who are positively ill and need ten- \n\n\nderest sympathy and care. Sometimes they are those who \nare simply lazy, who do not wish to make any effort. Some- \ntimes they are those who relentlessly and purposely prey upon \ntheir fellows. They are the reckless class who take advan- \ntage of those who are weaker. All these different classes \nmake up the great body of stragglers, of camp followers, in \nthe rear of every army on its forward march. This may well \nillustrate the march of humanity. The vanguard to-day is \nway ahead of the main body; while the main body perhaps \nto-raorrow or next week will be where the vanguard is to- \nday. The position represented by the vanguard and the main \narmy is not a fixed position. It is constantly changing, so \nthat that which is farthest forward and upward to-day may \nbe the place occupied by the stragglers next year. And the \nstragglers, perhaps, should not be condemned outright and \nwithout consideration, if we remember that they to-day are \nwhere the vanguard was last year or last century. \n\nThe human race, then, is ever on this march of progress. \nThere are ever the leaders with foresight and with courage, \nthere is ever the main body that simply follows the leaders, \nand there are those in the rear who get along as best they \ncan, living, as they say, by their wits, — sources of weakness \nand sources constantly of peril. \n\nAs our next step, let us consider for a moment whether \ncrime in this sense is on the increase. I have seen statis- \ntics recently, tending to prove that crime is increasing in \nthe State of Massachusetts and in the United States. If \nthis really were so, it would be an appalling fact. It would \nperhaps make the thoughtful student of human history and \nhuman liberty hopeless; for, if after nearly two thousand \nyears of what we proudly call Christian civilization crime is \nreally increasing, then might we not as well throw down our \nweapons, abandon our public schools, close up our churches, \nand give up in despair? I believe, however, that a little \ncareful consideration will show — as we should certainly \nexpect — that this is not true. We talk glibly about human \nprogress right in the face of these statistics that are sup- \n\n\n6 \n\nposed to prove that crime is increasing. It means that the \nmain body of the people really believe that there is such a \nthing as progress ; that the world is getting better, however \nslow the course of human advance may be. Is public opin- \nion wrong in this impression? Or is there something to \njustify it in the real condition of things ? Statistics are sup- \nposed to be always reliable. It is said that figures will not \nlie. No : figures never lie ; but people can lie very easily in \nthe use of figures. And not only can people lie in the use of \nfigures, but they can be very easily mistaken. They can use \nthem wrongly, and make them seem to prove that which the \nreal facts in the case do not prove at all. \n\nNow let us consider one or two things. People tell us \nonce in a while that the Roman Catholic Church is increas- \ning. If you take the statistics of a city like Boston or like \nNew York, or, possibly, if you take the count of those who \nare nominally Catholics with all their children and depend- \nants in the whole United States, you may be able to make \nout your case ; but you must remember that the majority of \nthe Catholics in this country are immigrants, and that, when \na man comes from Europe to live in America, he does not \nadd to the number of Catholics in the world. He only \nchanges his location. And, then, you need to put alongside \nwith such facts the liberation of whole empires in Europe \nfrom the grip of the old ecclesiasticism. You need \nto take account of the fact that the type of the Catholic \nChurch in this country has changed, that it is feeling the \ninfluence of our liberal free school atmosphere so that the \nold hold of the priesthood is not in this country what it used \nto be in the old countries of the world, or is still in some of \nthem to-day. I am not using this as connected with the \nquestion of crime, but as an illustration to show you how you \ncan make almost anything you please out of the use of fig- \nures. \n\nThen you must remember another thing as bearing on sta- \ntistics. The very fact that a community is morally growing \nmay manifest itself in the multiplication of laws, and so in \n\n\nthe possibility of broken laws which constitute the commis- \nsion of a crime, so that, owing to the number of possible \ncrimes on the statute book, the number of commitments may \nfor a lime increase with the moral growth and sensitiveness \nof the people. \n\nTake as an illustration this. Suppose you should compare \nthe statistics of Massachusetts and of some State in the \nSouth or elsewhere, — I do not know that any such State \nexists as I have in mind ; but suppose there is a State where \nthere is no law against duelling, and where drunkenness is \nnot considered a crime, or where a hundred things that in \nMassachusetts are treated as crimes are not against the law, \nand are passed over. It would be easy to prove that there \nis more crime in Massachusetts than in this supposititious \nState. Yet, of course, the most casual thought proves that \nthis method of the use of statistics is entirely misleading. \nThere are in a great many States certain things which are \npassed over and are not considered crimes which are \nheld as crimes in Massachusetts. Possibly the number of \nanests might be smaller in those States than here ; but that \nwould not show that the morality of Massachusetts was \nlower, but that there are more laws that can be broken, and \nconsequently there are more arrests and more commitments \nfor offences of various kinds. There might be a law passed \nto-morrow in this State which should double the number of \ncriminals in the next six months. That would not mean that \nMassachusetts had grown any worse, only that suddenly the \nlegislature had decided that any number of things which are \nallowed now should be regarded as offences to be punished. \nThese statistics, then, may be, and I believe are, entirely mis- \nleading, if used to prove that crime is increasing. I believe \nthat crimes, in the sense of offences against public order and \npublic well-being, are diminishing in every civilized land on \nthe face of the earth. That is, I believe that the moral and \nsocial level of mankind is constantly, however slowly, lift- \ning, rising ; that the world is better and better as the years \ngoby. \n\n\n8 \n\nCrime, then, is not increasing, statistics to the contrary, \nnotwithstanding. It is a hopeful problem, then, that we \nface, not one of discouragement or despair. \n\nNow let us come to the next point, and raise the question \nas to what are the rights of society over the persons who for \nwhatever cause break these statute laws. What right has \nsociety in the presence of criminals ? Possibly I may startle \nsome of you a little at first by the statement which I now \npropose to make ; and yet I mean to make it with all the \nearnestness of which I am capable. Society has no right \nwhatever to punish, no right whatever to take vengeance. \nSociety has no right, — why ? Because there is no judge, no \nbench of judges, no jury, no body of lawyers, no set of wise \nmen on the face of the earth, who are competent to decide \nthe degree of any individual's intentional guilt in the com- \nmission of any crime whatsoever. \n\nLet us consider for a moment who these criminals are and \nhow they have come to be criminals. Here, for example, \nis a case of a boy born in the midst of criminal conditions \nwhich he did not create and for which he is not responsible. \nHe has never had an opportunity to get a clear idea of \nhuman justice or human right. To him, practically, those \nwords have no meaning. He has been trained from his \nchildhood to look upon society as his enemy. He has been \ntrained to the idea that society in some way is responsible \nfor all ignorance, criminality, and poverty. He is taught \nthat it is somehow an heroic thing to be revenged on society \nand to get out of it all that he can. Is a child, or a man \nwhose childhood was like that, to be adjudged guilty in the \nsame way and to the same extent as you or I would be if \nwe should go out into the street and purposely commit a \ncrime ? \n\nThen there are other classes, people who are criminals \nlargely from weakness. The battle of life is an unequal \nbattle for them. They are like those camp followers who \nfall out of the ranks because they cannot keep up any \nlonger. \n\n\nThen there are those who have inherited a tremendous \nand overmastering weight of passion. I remember some \nyears ago I told you of a man who, when he indulged in \nsome terrible outburst of wrath, was taken to task by a friend \nwho said, \"Why don^t you control your temper? \" And the \nman turned on him and replied : \" Control my temper ! I \ncontrol more temper in five minutes than you ever controlled \nin your life ! \" These men that are dowered with this tre- \nmendous passion and power, overmastering reason and self- \ncontrol, are not responsible, in the ordinary sense of the word, \nfor being thus weighted. \n\nSo you may go through all the criminal classes, and you \nwill find that at least something can be said in this direction \nby way of a plea for careful consideration. I was made \naware the other day of a case like this. You will see the \nillustration. A boy had reached the age of eight or ten, \nwhen suddenly his hand became deformed and distorted, \nand he was unable to use it, and one of his limbs lost its \npower. A very wise surgeon, who studied the case with \ncare, found that the skull, instead of being flexible and ex- \npansive, like the normal human skull, had grown solid, so \nthat there was no space within for brain expansion. He \nperformed a surgical operation, by which it was opened in \nhalf a dozen different directions, allowing it to give; and, \nsimply because the brain had a chance, the hand suddenly \nbecame normal, and the boy was able again to walk, and all \nhis intellecual faculties returned and pursued their normal \ncourse of development. A great German scientist not long \nago made a careful study of the skulls of condemned and \nexecuted criminals, and he said that he did not find a normal \nskull in the whole collection. There may be crooked minds \nand crooked consciences and distorted hearts, which are \nsimply diseased, as well as distorted limbs and deformed \nphysical organs. \n\nAs we study, then, the origin of the criminal classes, we \nneed to understand them before we pronounce our judgment. \nYet I do not believe, as I said before, that there is a man or \n\n\nlO \n\na body of men on earth who are wise enough to untangle all \nthe threads of inheritance and condition, so as to get at the \nprecise amount of responsibility which should be charged \nupon any man for any act that he ever commits. This is \nnot to say that there is no wisdom anywhere. It is only an \nargument for human modesty and human care. \n\nWhat, then ? Is society to sit down, and allow criminals to \nprey upon it } No. Society has a right — and that is the only \nright it has so far — to protect itself, and to protect itself to \nany extent that is necessary and by any method that is nec- \nessary. Merely because we are not wise enough to tell how \nguilty a man is, so as to measure out the precise quantity of \nbitter vengeance that he shall be made to swallow, it is im- \nportant that we shall not sit down and allow the disintegrat- \ning forces to destroy our social order. A city has a right \nto build dams and embankments to turn the course of a \nriver, to protect itself. If a tiger gets loose in the street, we \nneed not raise and settle the question as to the guilt of the \ntiger for wanting to eat men. We have a perfect right to \nshoot him at sight, for our own protection or for the protec- \ntion of society. I am not one of those who say that society \nhas no right to put a man to death. He may be a moral \nidiot, he may be utterly irresponsible ; and yet it may be fool- \nhardiness to allow him to be loose on our streets, — as dan- \ngerous as to have a tiger loose. Society has a right to do \nwhatever is necessary to protect itself, and to enable it to go \non in its progress from its present to a higher and better \ncondition. But it has a right to do this merely in the spirit \nof self -protection, — not in the spirit of vengeance, not as \nthough it were assuming a Pharisaic superiority. You re- \nmember the saying of John Newton, a preacher in England, \nwhen he saw a fellow on the tumbril being carried to execu- \ntion : \"There goes John Newton, but for the grace of God.\" \nI think almost any of us, if we are humble enough, as we \nlook upon almost any case of crime, might say. There goes \nmyself, but for accidents of birth, education, training, the \nthousand things that have given me a chance that he never \n\n\nII \n\nhad. The Sevres vase that is guarded with care on the \nparlor mantel cannot very reasonably look contemptuously \ndown on the earthen bean-pot that is tossed and tumbled \nabout the kitchen, because there happens to be a nick in its \nedge. We can learn charity and consideration concerning \nthese things, while we mark the distinction between the good \nand the bad in the world. \n\nBut, granting that, what shall we do as a matter of social \nprotection ? Shall we pronounce death ? Yes, if we can find \nno better way. We must learn in the light of experience, \nand find out that which is best. If we can do anything \nbetter with criminals than kill them, it would seem a more \nhumane way. \n\nLet me note one or two things. In the first place, we \nhave no right to coddle crime because the criminal may not \nbe responsible. We have no right to make the condition of \nthe criminal more comfortable than the condition of the \nhard-working, honest, poor man. We have no right to sur- \nround crime with that maudlin kind of sympathy that tends \nto break down the distinction between right and wrong. \nCrime is crime, as disease is disease ; and, because a man \nmay not be responsible in the one case or the other, that \ndoes not make the condition a healthful one in either case. \nIt is something not to be treated in that maudlin sort of \nway. \n\nOn the other hand, let us not treat it with undue severity ; \nfor, if you will read the history of human practices concern- \ning these matters, you will find that barbaric methods of \ndealing with crime always indicate a barbaric social condi- \ntion, and that they tend to increase the amount of crime. If \nyou treat crime in a coarse, hard, brutal fashion, you tend to \nmake the people themselves coarse, hard, brutal. And it is \nout of this condition of coarseness, hardness, and brutality \nthat you may expect new crime. \n\nLet me give you one or two illustrations. Go back about \none hundred and twenty years, — note how recently, — to the \nyear 1769. About that time a certain edition of Black- \n\n\nI 2 \n\nStone's Commentaries was published; and in that edition \nwere enumerated not less than one hundred and sixty differ- \nent crimes that in England were punished by death. Does \nthat indicate that they were better in England then or more \nbarbaric? Go back to the time of Henry VIII., three hun- \ndred years ago ; and, although there were not more than six \nor eight millions of people in England during the reign of \nHenry VIII., there were seventy-two thousand people put to \ndeath for stealing alone. Does that indicate that in the time \nof Henry VIII. the jieople were more moral than now, or \nwere they more barbaric, more cruel ? A hundred years ago, \nin London, the condition of the criminal and his treatment was \nsomething worthy only of savages, — huddled together, men \nand women, all grades of crime ; here a poor debtor, perfectly \nhonest, but unable to meet his obligation ; there the blackest \ncriminal; permitted all kinds of rioting and debauchery, \nprovided they were able to pay for it, starved and brutally \nbeaten and maltreated, if they were not. Does that show \nthat England was better then than to-day, or more barbaric ? \nGo to Tennessee to-day. I was astonished during the past \nweek to be reliably informed — perhaps I ought to have \nknown it before — that in some cases women convicts are sent \nto the men's workhouse, and are compelled to work on the \npublic roads, and that now and then you may see a mother, \nwith a baby in one arm, breaking stones with her right hand, \nwhile with her left she shields the little one's eyes from the \nflying stones. Does that show that Tennessee is more moral \nthan we are, or only that there are traces still there of the \nMiddle Ages, that period out of which the cruelties and the \nhorrors and the hells have come ? In Delaware the whip- \nping-post and the stocks, I believe, are still legal. Every- \nbody who studies the history of human thought knows that \nthis only means that they are still in the dark ages in regard \nto some things. It is universally true that, wherever you \nfind humane counsels, humane methods of treatment, hu- \nmane dealing with crime, there you find less crime, and you \nfind a higher type of social order, because the brutal wayi \n\n\n13 \n\nthe cruel way, merely means that society is in that brutal \ncondition out of which crime naturally springs. The two go \ntogether. \n\nWe are to deal with crime in such a way, then, as to protect \nsociety. Any method that has been proved absolutely essen- \ntial may be adopted. But, if in dealing with the criminal we \ncan at the same time reform him, we not only protect our- \nselves against crime, but we add to our social strength and \nresources, we turn those who were enemies into helpers and \nfriends. And this, it seems to me, is not only the most \nhumane, but it is at the same time the most economical, way \nof dealing with crime, if it prove to be practical. Here is \nthe point. Have there been any experiments that prove \nthat there is any practical value in such methods as these } \nI have left only a few moments to hint to you some things \nthat have been done. Every time a new reform is proposed, \nthere are those who are opposed to it, who are in favor of \nthe old ways. This is to be expected. They ought to be, \nperhaps. A man does not at first grasp every new idea pre- \nsented to him. He needs to be persuaded that it is practical \nand right. But, if there is a presumption in favor of it, and \nif it is more humane, then it should have an opportunity to \nbe tried. \n\nI shall confine myself almost entirely to speaking of some \nof the methods being tried at the great Elmira Reformatory, \nunder the charge of probably the one man in this country \nwho is wisest and most competent in regard to these matters, \nMr. Z. R. Brockway. It is also being tried in other States, \nand other men are being influenced by the example, and \nare learning his methods and being infused with his spirit. \nHe has at the present time under his care about thirteen \nhundred prisoners, young men under the age of thirty. \nIt is supposed that his new methods of attempting to reform \nthem will naturally find more success with the younger class \nof criminals. Of course, these men are not those who have \ncommitted heinous crimes, nor are they under life sen- \ntence. \n\n\nLet me tell you what he does. He has established grades \nand a marking system. Every convict is marked for three \nthings, — for personal conduct, for diligence and attainment \nin study, and for the ability and faithfulness which he shows \nin his work. The criminals, thus graded and marked, are \nput on their mettle to do the very best they can in every \none of these departments, because that lifts them constantly \ntowards the highest grade. In other words, there is no such \nthing as meddling with the institution on the part of poli- \nticians. There is no such thing as buying favor. There is \nno such thing as winning it by social influence. It is simply \nopening the door of hope to the criminal himself, giving him \nan opportunity, if he will, to work out his own salvation. \nThe men are all there on the so-called indeterminate sen- \ntence. That is, no man can be released under a certain \ndefinite time, and in no case can he be held beyond a cer- \ntain definite time. So far as that goes, he is on a level with \nprisoners anywhere j but his sentence is indeterminate in \nthis sense, — that he may, under certain conditions, be dis- \ncharged before the maximum V>eriod has expired. Suppose \nthe man is sentenced for five years. It is possible that he \nmay develop himself in such a way as to make it possible for \nMr. Brockway to release him two or three years, perhaps, \nbefore the time is up. That is left, in the discretion of the \nBoard of Managers, in Mr. Brockway's hands. He decides \nin his judgment according to the progress that the criminal \nhas made and the character that he manifests. \n\nThen he is released on parole. If the prisoner has done \nso well that, in the judgment of Mr. Brockway, it is fitting \nand best that the man should be released, he goes free on \nparole. That is not a final discharge. He is under con- \nstant supervision. He is obliged to report himself just so \noften, and is liable to instant rearrest if he breaks the parole \nor commits a new offence. This whole scheme treats these \nyoung men as though they were capable of being reformed, \nand it gives them an opportunity to do their best ; and their \nfreedom depends exclusively on this. \n\n\n15 \n\nNow, what success has Mr. Brockway met with? That \nwas the one great question which I asked with a good deal \nof interest. I was surprised, as I think you will be, at the \npercentage. Mr. Brockway reports that he regards seventy- \nfive per cent, of his prisoners as permanently reformed. \nSeventy-five per cent. ! Is not that an excellent result ? \n\nOne other statement has come to me. The new State of \nSouth Dakota has adopted the parole system. Within the \nfirst year of its adoption thirty-eight prisoners were released \non parole, and not one has relapsed or been brought \nback. \n\nThis, then, is the method which is being advocated by \nthose who are specially interested in prison reform, — that \nkind of social self-protection which attempts to turn social \nenemies into friends, to turn foes into allies, to protect society, \nand at the same time save the man, who, perhaps, has never \nin all his life had half so much a chance to be a man as \nsince he committed his crime and has been in prison. The \nfinest type of civilization that many of these men have ever \nseen has been within prison walls, the first contact they \nhave ever had with any influence that is inspiring or up- \nlifting. \n\nAt the end there is only time to suggest that, as we go \nback down the pathway of human history, we reach a point \nwhere, when a man broke any one of the social laws, he was \nput to death with every method of cruelty and barbarity that \ncould be imagined. We have reached a time to-day when \nthere is an attempt to redeem and save. As you go back \ntowards that time of most cruel treatment, you reach the point \nof most crime and the deepest seated and most wide-spread \nsocial barbarism. As you come to the present time, you \nreach a period of the largest hope, the highest civilization, \nthe highest attainment in reform, as well as of sympathy and \nmutual help. I think one cannot study the course of human \nhbtory without being persuaded that not only are these re- \nformers interested in reaching that which will illustrate the \ndeepest, the divinest sympathy, mercy, and help, but they \n\n\ni6 \n\nare working, also, towards the most practical and the most \nreal political economy. \n\nFather, in the words of the old Persian, we pray Thee, the \nAll-merciful, to bless the wicked ; for the good Thou hast \nalready blessed in making them good. Let us in the spirit \nthat was in Jesus attempt to do what we can to seek and to \nsave, not those who are found, but those who are lost. \nAmen. \n\n\nPobllBhed weekly. Price $1.60 a year, or 6 cents einffle copy \n\n\n1 \n\nUNITY PULPIT \n\nBOSTON \n\n1 \n\nt \n\n> \n\nSERMONS OF M. \n\nJ. SAVAGE \n\nVol. 13 NOVEMBER 6, \n\n1 891 No. 4 \n\nALL-HALLOWS' \n\n1 \n1 \n\nDAY \n\nc \n, BOSTON \n\nGKORGE H. ELLIS. 141 FRANKLIN STREET \n\n1891 \n\nEmitni ai tk» Po$t-o0ke, Bottom, Man., as tteomUlau maU matter. \n\n\nMr. Savage's Books. \n\n\nReligious Reconstruction, lamo Ii.oo \n\nThese Degenerate Days. Small 161110. Flexible so \n\nMy Creed. lamo 1.00 \n\nPoems. i6mo. Foil gilt With portrait t.90 \n\nLight on the Oood. i6mo. Full gilt i.as \n\nSoaal Problems. lamo 1.00 \n\nThe Religioas Life, ismo i.oo \n\nBeUef in God. lamo i.oo \n\nBeliefs aboat Man. ismo 1.00 \n\nBeUefs about the Bible. i.oo \n\nThe Modem SpUnz. isdm) 1.00 \n\nThe Morals of Kvolation. lamo k.oo \n\nTalks about Jesus, lamo t.oo \n\nMan, Woman and Child. lamo 1.00 \n\nChristianity the Sdenoe of Manhood, lamo 1.00 \n\nThe ReligioQ of Evolution, lamo i.so \n\nLife Questions. i6mo Xdoo \n\nBluffton: A Stonr of To^y. laroo i.jo \n\nHelpe for DailT Living. lamo x.oo \n\nThe Signs of tne Times. lamo 1.00 \n\nLife. lamo i.oo \n\nThe Ministers Hand-book. For Christenings> Weddings, \n\nand Funerals. Cloth 75 \n\nSacred Songs for Public Worship. A Hyam and Tone \n\nBook. ICdited by M. J. Savage and Howard M. Dow. \n\nCloth 1.00 \n\nLeather 1.50 \n\nUnitarian Catechism. With an Introduction by E. A. Horton. \n\nPnoe, Paper, per copy, .... so cents. Per dos., 1.90 \n\n*• Qoth, *« .... JO \" \" a.so \n\n\nMr. Savage's weekly sermons ara rqpalariy printed in pamphlet \nform in \" Unity Pulpit*' Subecription price, tor the season, |i.so; \nsingle copies, $ cents. \n\nGSO. H. ELLIS, PnUUktr, \n\n§41 PttuMm St., B0tt0m, Mum, \n\n\nALL-HALLOWS* DAY. \n\n\n\"Called to be saints.\"— i Cor. i. 2. \n\nAll-hallows' Day was set apart by Pope Boniface IV. in \nthe seventh century, on the occasion of his rededicating the \nheathen Pantheon at Rome and turning it into a Christian \ntemple. It was dedicated at that time to the Virgin Mary \nand all the martyrs. Out of that has come this day, the first \nday of November, which is dedicated in the Roman and \nAnglican churches to All Saints. There were those during \nthe Middle Ages in such ignorance concerning the real mean- \ning of the day that they thought \" All-hallows \" was the name \nof a saint instead of the name of a day, and in some places \nin Europe they had some of the bones and relics of the saint \non exhibition. These as relics were quite as authentic, al- \nthough there never was such a saint, as a good many others \nthat you will find in your travels up and down the old coun- \ntries. \n\nAll saints ! What is the significance of the day to us ? It \na man to-day dares to assume the name ^' saint,\" we look \nupon him with contempt as conceited and presumptuous. It \nb supposed to carry with it the idea of sanctity or holiness ; \nand, when the Mormons call themselves the \" Latter Day \nSaints,\" the Gentiles all over the land curl the lip in scorn. \nBut, originally, the use of the word \" saint \" did not at all \nconflict with modesty on the part of the person who dared to \nassume it. I presume to-day, in the case of the Latter Day \nSaints, it may not be taken quite so modestly. I judge so \nbecause the other day, when I was in the tabernacle in Salt \n\n* Phooographtcally reported. \n\n\nLake City, George Q. Cannon made what seemed to me an \nextravagant claim. Said he, *^ Point me out a saint, and I \nwill point you out a man who is honest, who is true, who is \npure in life, who is noble in all his social relations, and de- \nvoted to the highest and best things/' It seems, then, that \nthey do make some special claim on the part of those that \nthey consider worthy to take the name of saint. \n\nBut nothing of that sort was implied in the use of it in \nNew Testament times. We need to get back, as our starting- \npoint, to the Biblical thought which underlies the use of this \nword. Paul addresses those in Rome and in Corinth and in \nEphesus who are \" called to be saints \" ; and by that term he \nincludes simply the whole membership of the Church, with- \nout any regard to their character or special attainments in \nholiness. For he goes on in the course of his letter to point \nout in no uncertain words their faults, and to castigate them \nseverely for their shortcomings, for their derelictions, for the \nevil conduct of their lives. Paul did not mean that all the \npeople who were saints were wise, holy, good people. What \ndid he mean ? He was using the word in a sense that we \nhave almost forgotten to-day, in the sense in which it is used \nuniversally, — it and its equivalents, both in the New Testa- \nment and the Old. If we go back to the Old Testament and \nread the account of the fitting up of the tabernacle or the \nfurnishing of the temple, we shall find that a pair of tongs or \nsnuffers, a candlestick, all the utensils which were used in \nceremony or sacrifice in their daily services, were sainted. \nWhat did that mean? Not that any change had been \nwrought in the material of which they were composed. The \nbrass or the bronze or whatever they were made of was \nsimply brass or bronze, common material such as would be \nfound anywhere else ; yet they were sainted. That is, they \nwere separated from the common uses, — they were set apart, \nconsecrated to some peculiar purpose, some religious end. \nThe altar was sainted. It might be made of common stone, \ncommon materials such as might be used for the construe, \ntion of their houses or anywhere else. Days were sainted. \n\n\n5 \n\nThe Sabbath was thus set apart. There was no difference \nin the day itself between that day and any other. I suppose \neven now the strictest Sabbatarian, if he should lose his reck- \noning on a Sunday morning, could not distinguish any dif- \n.ference between that day and any other. It is like any other \nday, only it is set apart for a particular use, for a particular \npurpose. So the temple was sainted or consecrated, dedi- \ncated to the highest aspirations, the noblest ideals, the best \nservice which the people at that time could render their fel- \nlow-men or the Supreme. The materials of the temple were \nthe same as before. There was no change in them : they \nwere only set apart. \n\nNow, that is the idea which underlies sainthood both in the \nOld Testament and the New. Of course, when we come to \ndeal with men, we find this difference ; and it is a difference \nso great as to lead us over the threshold into really another \nworld. We find that, when you set apart a roan for some \nspecial service, when you consecrate him to some special \nidea, when you dedicate him body and mind and soul to the \ncarrying out of some great purpose, though at the moment \nof the consecration he may be just like his fellows, — through \nthis ensues a change in the man himself. We become like \nthose things to which we consecrate ourselves. We are \ntransformed into the image of our ideals, so that we are in \nanother world when we come into the presence of a man who \nis consecrated or sainted, — another world than that of which \nI was speaking when talking of the consecrated days or \nplaces or things. \n\nAnd yet there need be no immodest assumption on the \npart of the man or the woman who calls himself or herself \na saint. Indeed, that man is no true man, in the largest, \nbroadest, deepest, highest sense of the word, who is not a \nsainL These individual lives of ours are little affairs. We \ncome, and are here for a little while: we go, and are for- \ngotten. We are like the bird which in the feasting hall of \nold King Edward flew out of the darkness, hovered over \ntheir heads in the light of the banquet hall for a little, and \n\n\nthen disappeared in the darkness again. Our lives seem of \nvery small account. How are they to become great ? How \nare they to become significant ? How are we to become of \nimportance to the world? Only in so far as we become \nsaints, in the true sense of the word ; that is, in so far as we - \nconsecrate ourselves to some truth, to some purpose, to \nsome way of life, to some ideal end, only as we link our- \nselves with some divine movement. We take on then the \ncharacter of that to which we have consecrated ourselves, \nand our little lives become a part of God's great plan of \nhuman development. \n\nAs we look over those whom the people of any particular \ntime have come to regard as saints, we cannot to-day have \nany special respect for large numbers of them. There is a \nlesson here, however, that it is worth while for us to note. \nI study the life of a Hindu saint ; and what do I find him \ndoing? I find him withdrawing from his fellow-men. He \nhas no family life, no social life. He forsakes his duty as \ncitizen. He goes into some cave or sacred forest ; and \nthere he lives a life of contemplation week after week, \nmonth after month, year after year. His hair grows long, \nhis nails become like eagle's claws, he does not wash himself \nor change his garments for months or years. He is a saint. \nHe has consecrated himself to that which is his ideal, to \nthat which will please the gods or what will give him power \nover the gods. And here is a point to note. He is of no \nsort of use to his fellow-men. To this I make one exception ; \nand it is an important exception. The men in the past, \nhowever mistaken their ideals, if they earnestly and sincerely \nconsecrated themselves to those ideals, cultivated that qual- \nity of consecration, created and helped to transmit down the \nages an inheritance, a tradition, a tendency towards conse- \ncration. However mistaken they may have been, the fact \nthat they could, that they did, consecrate themselves, helped \nto develop, to lift the type of manhood, to make it easier for \nmen and women to-day to consecrate themselves to that \nwhich they believe to be noble and true. With that excep- \n\n\ntioii, however, those lives seem to us to have been utterly \nwasted. \n\nTake the case of another, this time a Christian, saint, — \nSaint Simeon Stylites, — upon a pillar for years and years and \nyears, surrounded by a body of worshipping disciples, or pil- \ngrims, wondering at his endurance, at his power of conse- \ncration, eating barely enough to sustain life, — simply an ex- \nample of what a wrong ideal can lead a man to do, of abso- \nlutely no use to the world, rendering no service either to his \ncountry or his friends, rendering absolutely no service to the \nworld except, as I said, in developing this quality of human \nnature which is able to consecrate itself to an ideal, how- \never false that ideal may be in a particular instance. \n\nOn the other hand, the Catholic Church has I know not \nhow large a number of saints who are worthy of all praise \nas saints. Take, for example, one who appeals perhaps \nmore than any other Catholic saint to the practical instincts \nof this nineteenth century, Saint Christopher. He is rep- \nresented as a giant, so far as his physical life was concerned. \nBom a heathen, he consecrated himself, says the tradition, \nnow to one king, now to another, ever seeking to find the \nmightiest king, that he might devote himself to his service. \nAnd in those naive old days of the Middle Ages they said \nthat he discovered and came into conversation with the \ndevil, and, finding him mightier than any king, gave himself \ninto his service, following him and devoting himself in every \nway to htm. One day, as they came to a cross, he saw that \nthe devil deviated from his course, and did not dare to pass \nit ; and, when Saint Christopher inquired as to the source of \nthis fear, he learned that the devil thought there was some \none mightier than he was. Saint Christopher therefore \nforsakes his service, and tries to find this great God of \nwhom all others seem to be in fear; and, when he had \nfound him, as the tradition tells in the poetical story of Saint \nChristopher and the Christ-child, he devoted himself to his \nservice ever after. Therefore, his whole life long was devoted \nto the practical service of his fellow-believers, knowing that. \n\n\n8 \n\nin serving them thus, he was serving him who is the Father \nof all men. The Catholic Church, then, has a large number \nthat are worthy of our respect as ideals of consecrated man- \nhood and womanhood. \n\nI suppose to-day, as in the Catholic Church they celebrate \nAll Saints, this word \"all\" with them is a limited word. \nThey mean the Catholic saints. But here is one grand ad- \nvantage of our freer and broader thought. I suppose the \nCatholic Church would find no place in its calendar for many \nand many a man that we should place even highest on the \nroll. We cannot expect the Catholic Church to broaden its \nsympathies enough to include our saints, but we can broaden \nourselves enough to include their saints. We recognize \nonly the one definition and limitation which Jesus has given \nus in the lesson which I read to you this morning. As two \nof his disciples were seeking the opportunity of being placed \none on his right hand and one on his left in his kingdom, to \nbe his prime ministers when he came to set up his earthly \nkingdom, he rebuked them and all the disciples by saying : \nIn my kingdom, — how the history of Christianity has belied \nhis words! — in my kingdom he who will be great among \nyou shall be your minister, your servant. When he who \nserves shall reach to the height of this, he shall deserve the \nname of great. As, then, we look over the world, we are \nglad that in every religion, under every sky, in all ages even \nfrom the first, we can find those worthy of the aureole of \nsainthood, tested by the words of Jesus himself, those who \nhave consecrated themselves to the service of their fellow- \nmen in some department of life, those who have made this \nworld a healthier and easier place to live in, those who have \nbroadened its opportunities, who have taught the ignorant, \nhave comforted those who are in sorrow, who have culti- \nvated the spiritual life in themselves and in their fellow-men, \nso that they made men better, happier, freer, nobler. These \nbelong to our calendar of saints ; and, when we remember \n\"all saints\" to-day, our \"all\" sweeps around the globe \ntaking no account of differences of religion, of nationality, of \n\n\n9 \n\n• \n\nStages of human growth. It includes all the consecrated \nhelpers of the world. \n\nWe are glad, for example, that we can revere as a saint \nthat old Indian prince Gautama, the Buddha, who loved his \nfellow-men so much, as the tradition tells us, as to give up \nthe right to his father's throne, turn his back upon all pleas- \nure, upon all delight, and be so touched at the sight of \nhuman sorrow and human grief as to consecrate his life to \ntrying to find out the secret of the world's suffering, and to \ndiscover some way by which it might be healed. No matter \nwhether we can agree with him as to his solution of the \nage-long problem or not, we bow to him as one of the world's \nsaints, worthy of a place in any calendar that dares to be \ntrue to the record of men. \n\nAnd so, as we come down the ages, in China, in Persia, \nin Greece, in Rome, in every country and under every sky, \nwe pick out here one and there another of those noble men \nwho have devoted themselves to their highest ideal of what \nis true and right, and so have helped the world. \n\nYou will note one thing which, being evolutionists, is just \nwhat we should expect to find, — that the ideal of sainthood \nrises from age to age. Men can do no more than conse- \ncrate themselves to the highest and noblest ideal which they \nhave caught a vision of. If we to-day are as true to our \nideals as the old Hindu saint of whom I have just spoken \nwas to his ideal, we need not cast any word of contempt \nupon him, but grasp his hand frankly as a brother, only \nbeing grateful to God to have been permitted to live in an \nage when our highest ideals are so much nobler than are \nthose of which he could dream. The idea of sainthood, \nthen, grows age after age ; and we need only to be true to \nthat which we can dream as high and pure and holy. \n\nI wish now to note some of the stages in the growth of \nthis sainthood.. That man is a saint, in the truest sense of \nthe word, the real sense of the word, who consecrates him- \nself to the service of God through the service of his fellow- \nmen. So far as his own character and intent are concerned. \n\n\nlO \n\nhe may be as true a saint on one level of human life as on \nanother ; and yet the one who renders the largest, noblest \nservice of course tends to a higher rank than he who serves \nin some lower range of life. \n\nIn every direction, as we look over the world, we see men \nand women who need help in the physical range of their \nbeing. Blessed are they who consecrate themselves faith- \nfully here. Who are they? It is not easy to draw a line \nthat shall mark off all those who serve the physical, and \nservfe no higher part of men. None of these distinctions are \nclear-cut. You cannot mark them off any more than you \ncan draw a line between the day and the night; for all \ngrades overrun and interpenetrate each other. Take the \ntraders, the discoverers, the inventors, all those who work \nin things that pertain to the physical life of the world. \nTake the true faithful physician whom I should place in the \nfirst rank, the physician who devotes himself to the conquest \nof pain and the suppression of disease. These men, if they \nare true, if they serve mankind with a single eye and with a \nlofty purpose, deserve, as they win, the name of saints, — \nmen and women whose calling is a holy and a sacred one \nbecause they are rendering service to their fellow-men. \n\nNext above the physical comes the intellectual, the men \nwho are teachers, the men who help the bewildered to find \nthe way, the men who help solve the problems of the world, \nthe men who cast light into the dark places, the men who \npenetrate the wildernesses of superstition, who open them \nup and clear the way for sunshine to make them fit for the \nhabitation of vital thoughts and noble ideas. These men \nare saints, rendering service unto God through service to \ntheir fellow-men. \n\nThen next above these I would place the men who help the \nworld to be better morally, who alleviate the sorrows and \ndistresses of mankind, who make vice and crime less and \nless, who strengthen weak wills, who clarify the soul's vision, \nand help to deliver the world from the great burden of its \ncrime and its wrongs. \n\n\nII \n\nThen above these still are those who deal with man as a \nspiritaal being, as a child of God, who help to make men \nover into the likeness of him who is perfect. You cannot \ndraw a hard and fast line separating one of these from the \nother. Many and many a time the physician who ministers \nto the physical suffering ministers also to the intellectual \nneed and to the moral and spiritual hunger of his patient. \nMany a time the only way by which you can approach the \nsolution of the intellectual and moral problem is through \nhelp on the physical plane. And, if you can only set people \nright in the spiritual and the moral realms, you have done \nmore than in any other conceivable way to solve the indus- \ntrial and commercial, the political and practical problems of \nhuman life, so that the one who serves man in any one direc- \ntion is rendering service in all. \n\nWho, then, can be saints in this modem world ? Who can- \nnot i The servant in your kitchen, the day laborer on the \nstreet, he who is serving in the humblest, commonest fashion, \nfilled with a vision of something higher and better over his \nhead, and is faithful and true in these commonest duties of \nlife. He need not wait for other opportunity. Sainthood is \nconsecration of all that is highest and best in manhood and \nwomanhood to the noblest doing of the very next duty that \nlies at hand. \n\nThe mother in the care of her children, worn and weary \nand discouraged, may not think that she is winning to-day \nthe title of saint. But when, by and by, she has faded into \nthe invisible and remains only a dream, a picture, an inspira- \ntion in the hearts of her children, to them she will always \nwear the aureole that she deserved to win all the more be- \ncause she did not think about it. \n\nTake the business man, the man who has no opportunity \nor time for religion, no time to devote to moral problems, \nwho says, \"I am nearly driven to death merely with the \nmaaagement of my business affairs,\" — is there room or op- \nportunity for a man like that to be a saint ? I hold that, if it \nbe really true, if a man is so situated that he has not time to \n\n\n12 \n\ndevote especially to the consideration of any moral or social \nproblem, if he absolutely must devote himself exclusively to \nthe management of his business, there is the same oppor- \ntunity for him to be a saint even there that there ever was \nfor a martyr. A man is not asked to be what he cannot be, \nto do that which is impossible, to reach beyond the limits of \nthe place assigned him. Only be a man, true, honest, faith- \nful, noble, right through. There is no one thing needed \nto-day in America more than that a business man should be \na man all over and all through, right in his business. It is \nneeded more than any profession of religion, more than any \nlectures on ethics ; and the man who consecrates himself to \nthe true and manly conduct of his business affairs wins and \ndeserves the name of sainthood as much as if he should de- \nvote himself in other realms that are recognized as moral \nand religious. \n\nI will now take the liberty of speaking of another depart- \nment of human life where it seems to me there is urgent \ncall for this quality of sainthood. There is to be an election \non Tuesday. None of the men have forgotten that, even if \nthey have allowed the women to do so. I have never con- \nceived it a part of my duty to tell my friends, even in private, \nfor whom they should vote. I have never preached what by \nany stretch of imagination could be called politics in my \npulpit. I claim the right, however, always and everywhere, \nin public and in private, to insist upon the principles of right \nand wrong which touch manhood in the political sphere as \nwell as in any other. People would smile, I suppose, if on \nthe hustings or in the newspapers I should speak of political \nsaints. It is not supposed that there is any room for saint- \nhood there. If a man uses the word \"politics,\" he is supposed \nto be talking about a department of human life in which the \nquestions of right and wrong are generally subordinate to the \nexpedient, and men might say, Here is no field for abstract \ndiscussion : here is the practical question of winning. And \nmen come to believe that their party, on the whole and in \nthe long run, is so much nearer right than the other that they \n\n\n13 \n\nfrequently feel themselves justified in any underhand or \ncrooked measure which seems necessary to party success. \nBut, whether there is a field for sainthood in politics to-day \nor not, we have our political saints in the past ; and they are \nthe memories that overhang us to-day and challenge our \nlives to noble courses. They are the salt that saves us as a \npeople. And who are they? They are not the men who \nsacrificed truth and right and character — all for an imme- \ndiate political success. They are not the men who said, \n\" My party, right or wrong,\" or even \" My country, right or \nwrong.\" They are the men who dared stem opposition in \ntheir day in the interest of what they believed to be right, \nand what they believed to be for the welfare of their country \nand their whole country. These are the political saints of \nthe past ; and there is no place to-day in American life where \nthis grand, manly ideal is so much demanded as in our polit- \nical action. We need men who shall be brave enough to \ndisregard the opinions of their party and their intimate \nfriends even, if they are convinced that they are right. We \nneed men who shall look not merely after the political in- \nterests of Boston or Massachusetts, but who shall regard the \nwelfare of the whole land, who shall not care so much for \nsweeping the next election as for turning the face of the \npeople towards true and high ideals, towards the attainment \nof the noblest welfare of all. \n\nThere is, then, a field for this kind of sainthood. Ah ! if \nthere were not, then the doom of our country would already \nbe sealed. I challenge you, then, to consider these questions \nio the light of your own consciences. I challenge you, if you \nfind a true and noble man, to stand by him. If you find a \nman who is recreant, who changes his principles in the light \nof a majority vote of his district, never trust him again. The \nonly thing that is safe in politics, as anywhere else, is this \nsainthood, this consecration of the intellect and the heart \nand the hand to the service of truth and right; for only \nthrough truth and right can the welfare of any nation or of \nthe world be ultimately attained. \n\n\n14 \n\nLet us, then, on this All-hallows' Day, when we can afford \nto be broader than any other church, to take into account \nthose lives that have consecrated themselves to the service \nof men under every sky and in every age, — let us, looking \nover the whole range of our lives and their duties, consecrate \nourselves to God, which means, simply, consecrate ourselves \nto the right; which means again, simply, consecrate our- \nselves to such thought, such study, such effort, such action, \nas shall make the world nobler and better. \n\nFather, we give ourselves this morning unto Thee. We \nask that we may be able to dedicate ourselves in deed and \nin truth to the faithful following of Thy way until Thy king- \ndom is established on earth. Amen. \n\n\nPubliahed w^eelLly. Price $1.60 a year, or 5 cents ainffle copy \n\n\nUNITY PULPIT \n\nBOSTON \n\n\nSERMONS OF M. J. SAVAGE \n\nVou 13 NOVEMBER 13, 1891 No. 5 \n\nSERIES ON \n\nEVERY-DAY RELIGION \n\n\nI. RELIGION A LIFE \n\n\nBOSTON \n\n\nGEORGE H. ELLIS, 141 FRANKLIN STREET \n189X \n\nEntered at the Poet-^iflee, BotUmt Maee,^ at eeeimd-clau mail matter. \n\n\nMr. Savage's Books. \n\n\nReligious Reconstruction. lamo. $i.oo \n\nTheM Degenerate Days. Small i6mo. Flexible 90 \n\nMy Creed, tamo i.oo \n\nPoems. 16R10. Full gilt. With portrait i.co \n\nLight on the Qond. z6mo. Full ^t i.ac \n\nSoaal Problems, tamo i.oo \n\nThe Relinous Life, zamo i.oo \n\nBelief in God. lamo 1.00 \n\nBeliefs about Man. lamo i.oo \n\nBeliefs about the Bible i.oo \n\nThe Modem Sphinx. lamo i.oo \n\nThe Morals of Evolution, ismo i.oo \n\nTalks about Jesus. lamo i.oo \n\nMan, Woman and Child. lamo 1.00 \n\nChristianir^ the Science of Manhood, zamo i.oo \n\nThe Religion of Evolution. lamo z.co \n\nLife Questions. i6mo 1,00 \n\nBloffton: A Storr of To-day. lamo i.jo \n\nHelps for Dailv Living, zamo i.oo \n\nThe Signs of the Times. lamo 1.00 \n\nLife. lamo i.oo \n\nThe Minister's Hand-book. For Christenings, Weddings, \n\nand Funerals. Cloth yc \n\nSacred Songs for Public Woimhip. A Hymn and Tune \n\nBook. Edited by M. J. Savage and Howard M. Dow. \n\nCloth ,.00 \n\nLeather i.jo \n\nUniurian Catechism. With an Introduction by S. A. Horton. \n\nPrice, Paper, per copy ao cents. Perdos., 1.50 \n\n'• Cloth, •• .... 30 •• \" a.so \n\n\nMr. Savage's weeklv sermons are regularly printed in pamphlet \nform in \" Unity Pulpit.\" Subscription price, for the season, li.jo; \n■ingle copies, 5 cents. \n\nGSO. H. BLLIS, PfMuktr, \n\n141 Firanklm Si,, Boston, Afau. \n\n\nRELIGION A LIFE.* \n\n\n\"Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the \nkingdom of heaven ; but he that doeth the will of my Father which is in \nheaven.\" — Matt. vii. 21. \n\nAny one who looks carefully over the world will note very \nmany instances, instances occurring so frequently as almost \nto make it a common fact, of the practical divorce between \nreligion and life. Said a man to a little boy one day, \n\" Johnny, is your father a Christian ? \" And the boy replied, \n\" Yes, 1 suppose he is ; but he is not doing much at it at \nthe present time.\" There are large numbers of people who \nwould not like to be regarded as entirely irreligious who are \nnot doing a great deal at it. It is for them a purely side \nissue, a matter of time, of occasion, of ceremonies, of cir- \ncumstances. They have not as yet seemed at all to appre- \nhend the fact that religion, if it is anything, is life itself, — \nnot separate from life, not something one side of life, not an \nornament of life, not an attachment to life, not an occupa- \ntion of a particular part of the life. If it is anything, it is \nlife. \n\nIt is not at all infrequent in my experience to note this \npractical divorce. People frequently say to me, when they \ncome for me to attend a funeral : \" Mr. So-and-so was not \na regular attendant at any church. He was not a religious \nman, but he was a good man. Ask his business associates, \nif you wish to know what they thought of him. Ask his \nneighbors what kind of a man he was. He was one of the \nkindest, truest, noblest men in his family that I ever saw ; \nbut be was not a Christian, he was not a religious man.*' \n\n• Phonographically reported. \n\n\nOn the other hand, it is not a very uncommon thing to find \none who is deeply and apparently earnestly engaged in re- \nligious matters, a church member, a regular Sunday attend- \nant, possibly a worker in the Sunday-school, maybe an officer \nof the church, a person actively engaged in all these exter- \nnal manifestations of the religious life, and yet the people \nwho know him would hesitate a good while before pronounc- \ning him a very good man. There are extreme cases, like one \nthat I have in mind this moment, — of a man who was appar- \nently most earnest in his religious life, a church member, a \nsuperintendent of the Sunday-school, always at the prayer- \nmeeting, always taking part in prayer-meeting, and active in \nevery department of church life, apparently thinking of it all \nthe time, doing everything that he could to help on the suc- \ncess of the Church in its work. This man, I say, was utterly, \nthrough and through from his head to his feet, unsound and \nuntrustworthy. I do not believe he was a conscious hypo- \ncrite. It has never seemed to me so. I never detected any \nlack of earnestness or sincerity in this religious activity. \nBut he did not seem to put the two together, someway. \nThere was a practical divorce between them, — a divorce \nsuch as, curiously enough, Faraday, one of the greatest scien- \ntific men of the world, established between his scientific and \nhis religious life. He was a member of one of the narrow- \nest, most superstitious and petty of all the religious sects. \nHe used to say frankly : \" I keep my science and my religion \napart. When I go into my laboratory, I close the door of \nmy closet ; and, when I go into my closet, I lock the door of \nmy laboratory.\" He recognized the fact that the two did \nnot go together ; but he had not taken the trouble to find out \nwhy. \n\nI do not wish the Unitarians that I am addressing this \nmorning to think that I am putting them all in a class by \nthemselves as good, practical, religious people, and that, if I \nsay anything to the discredit, or the apparent discredit, of \nprofessors of any other faith, that I am giving them any \nground for self-complacency. This is not a matter dividing \n\n\nUnitarians and the orthodox. It is a line of cleavage that \nruns right through all the churches. I say this because I \nwish to use as an illustration one or two points that other- \nwise might be misunderstood. \n\nNot a great while ago I was talking with a gentleman in \nthe city, and he said : \"I am not a church member, but my \npartner is. Our experience in business has been such that \nwe have established this as a rule of our house, by my part- \nner's urgency as well as consent : if any man comes to us \nand asks of us any business favor or to. be trusted, on the \nground of his being a Christian or a church member, he is \nalways refused.\" In other words, he had learned, as a result \nof his business experience, that being a Christian and profess- \ning Christianity are not the same thing as paying bills. A \ndivorce, again, you see between the religion and the life. \n\nDuring my recent trip in the West and on the Pacific \nCoast, in one of the cities I came across a case like this. \nThe president of a certain bank was a Unitarian. He said : \nI put the matter this way one day in talking with a Presby- \nterian who always does business at my bank. I said to him, \n\" According to your creed, if your creed is true, then there is \nno reason in the world why I, who reject it utterly, should be \nan honest man and behave myself in any way. How does it \nhappen, then, that you trust all your money and all your \nbusiness to me, that you do business at all with my bank ? \" \nHe had nothing to say, for the sufficient reason that there \nwas nothing to say. Here was divorce again between busi- \nness life and the religion, or creed. \n\nThese are enough instances at the outset to make clear \njust what I mean ; and now I wish to turn for a moment, and, \nas is my habit, go away back to the sources of things, that \nwe may get a background for a comprehension of this state \nof things. \n\nI have spoken before concerning the significance of the \nact of sacrifice as a religious act. I wish to speak of it again, \nbecause it is the oldest of all religious services with which \nwe are familiar. Only within the last few years have scholars \n\n\nunearthed the real significance of it. Animals were not sac- \nrificed to God because he liked to have something killed, \nnor because he demanded blood. That is not the original \nidea of sacrifices. It was not even because God wanted the \npeople to give him something very dear, very expensive, \nsome perfect thing. It was not this. What was it ? We shall \nfind the root of my whole theme right here. \n\nPeople believed that they shared the same life as their \ngod. The god, perhaps, before he disappeared into the invis- \nible, wis a member of their tribe, some great chieftain, may \nbe. The animal that they used as a tribal totem was be- \nlieved also to share the same life that the gods shared, and \nthat they themselves shared. If they used a human being \nas a sacrifice, the sacrifice must be something that shared \nthe life of the god and the life of the people. What, then, \nwas the significance of it? You know what it means in \nArabia or the East to-day to eat bread or salt with you. It \nmeans an inviolable bond. So, when the people put to death \nthis man or this animal which shared the same life which \nthey did and which the gods shared, the god being supposed \nto be present, and he and his people partook of this common \nmeal together, it established an inviolable bond between the \npeople and their god. They were bound to him, and he was \nbound to them. At that time, under those circumstances, \nreligion and morality, or conduct, were identical. The god \nwas anxious that the people should conduct themselves only \nin such a way as was for the well-being, the prosperity, of the \ntribe. If any man broke any of these laws on which the \nwell-being of the tribe was supposed to depend, he not only \ninjured the tribe, but he insulted the god. Religion, then, \nand conduct, so far as their ideas of conduct went, were the \nsame. \n\nBut now note how the cleavage between them comes in, \nand how natural it is. As the tribe grew in civilization, as \nit became a city, a nation, as it came in contact with other \ntribes, other peoples, the whole conception of conduct, of \nmorality, changed, broadened, deepened, heightened. Moral- \n\n\nity grew. The ideas of character and conduct enlarged and \nbecame more. But this method of conducting the sacrifice, \nthis matter of binding the god to the tribe and the tribe \nto the god, which had been, as they supposed, miraculously, \nsupernaturally revealed, became sacred. It was not to be \ntouched, not to be changed. So morality grew, and religion \nwas stationary ; and the two were separated. The people \nwent on, then, developing their ideas of conduct out of their \nexperiences. It became something different from this relig- \nious ceremony of sacrifice. So was established the secular \nlife, the life of every day, the life of business, the life of the \nfamily, the life of social intercourse. This was one thing; \nbut at certain stated times, on certain days, under the guid- \nance of a certain class of people called priests, the people were \nexpected to perform their religious acts. This became some- \nthing entirely other than the ordinary acts of their every-day \nbehavior ; and, as we trace the history, the growth, of nations \nfrom that far-off time to to-day we see the disastrous results \nof this divorce at every turn. Not that it has never been \nrecognized. The prophets, the great leaders and reformers, \nhave always been calling the people back or calling them \nforward, whichever way you choose to call it, to this higher \nidea. The lesson I read this morning is a cry in this direc- \ntion. Isaiah, the great prophet, addressing the people in their \nhardened ceremonial life, represents their God as telling \nthem he was utterly wearied and worn out with all their \nsacrifices. He wants no more of it. What he wants is that \nthey should behave themselves. What he wants is goodness, \na true heart, lips that speak the truth, kindliness to the \nneighbor. He wants them to undo the heavy burdens and \nlet the oppressed go free. He wants them, in other words, to \nlive rightly. That is what the prophet is calling for. The \npriests have always stood for the ceremonial, for formalism, \nfor the keeping of these religious traditions safe and un- \nbroken. But the prophets have always been leaders of the \nspiritual life, trying to get the people up to a higher plane, \nto a nobler and loftier conception of religion. And so nearly \n\n\n8 \n\nall the world's persecutions have been the result of the clash \nbetween the prophet who represented the free spirit, the \ngrowing ideals of right, and the priest who represented the \nfixed and hardened traditions of formalism of the olden \ntime. \n\nLook at the life of Jesus. There is hardly a word about \nbelief said by him, hardly a word said about any formalism. \nHe disregards the law of the Sabbath. He is charged with \nspeaking insulting words against the temple. On the other \nhand, he charges the Pharisees with this one fault ; that, while \nthey are very scrupulous in paying their tithes of mint and \nanise and cumin, they neglect the weightier matters of \njudgment and justice and truth. He takes up, for example, \none case which illustrates that well. He says : You have ar- \nranged your life in such a way that a young man whose \nfather and mother are dependent on him and in need can \nshirk this filial duty, this highest of all moral obligations. \nHow ? All he has to do is to take his property and carry \nit to the priests and have it declared corban, a gift, ded- \nicated to religious uses, and he goes free, under no more \nobligation to take care of his father and mother. \n\nAnd so it had come to pass at this time that the heart of \nthe people and of the leadership of the priesthood was fixed \non the minuteness of the ceremonial law. This was the \ngreat thing. A man was outside the pale of the law, of the \ntemple and the church, if he did not attend to these minute \nmatters of the ceremonial. \n\nThis is the occasion of that wonderful parable of the Good \nSamaritan. The Samaritans were looked upon as outcasts, \nand treated with contempt. The Jews would not speak with \nthem, and would pass on the other side of the way, not to \ncome in contact with them. The Samaritan woman at the \nwell is represented as being surprised that Jesus, even when \nhe was thirsty, should ask drink of her. Jesus tells the story \nof the Good Samaritan, who helped the man whom he found \nwaylaid and bleeding by the side of the road, showing that \nhe is the one that we are to follow, not the priest or the \n\n\nLevite. No matter how perfect their ceremonial, they went \nby on the other side, and did not help their brother. \n\nYou find the same thing outside of the range of Christian \ntradition. What was Socrates put to death for? He was \nthe grandest man in many ways of all the heathen world, the \nnoblest citizen of Athens ; and yet he was put to death for \nbeing irreligious, for insulting the gods, for being an atheist, \nfor teaching the young people not to care so much for the \nold ceremonial religion, but to care for justice, for goodness, \nfor truth, for noble human living. The old religion could \nnot abide a character like that. \n\nSo, as you come down the history of the world, it makes \nno difference under what sky, under what religious name, \namong what people, there is this same divorce, and this \nsame conflict between religion and life, all the way. Creed is \nput above character. After the great Catholic creed had \nbeen formulated in all its petty minuteness, teaching things \nthat no one knew anything about in heaven above or in the \nunderworld, it was declared at the end that, if any man did \nnot believe this creed in every part, he would no doubt \nperish everlastingly, — creed the one thing. \n\nAnd to-day is it not apparent to every thoughtful student of \nthe tendencies of the time, — that some of the great churches \nare not as careful over the honesty, the kindliness, the \ngeneral conduct, of their members, as they are over the ques- \ntion whether the Rev. Howard MacQueary dares doubt \nwhether Jesus was born without a human father, whether \nDr. Briggs believes that all the writers in the Old Testament \nand in the New were perfectly accurate in every statement \nwhich they made ? It is these little matters of belief which \nare shaking the churches like an earthquake ; and yet bitter- \nness and quarrels and slanders and backbiting and dis- \nhonesty in business and unkindness in the homes and cruel- \nties to children, and ten thousand things which exist by the \nhundred and the thousand, go on, and the Church is not dis- \nturbed in its sleep. \n\nIt is curious how such ideas as these come to be embodied \n\n\nlO \n\neven in the dictionary. To-day they tell us that a man is \nimmoral if he is guilty of a certain definite .thing. If a man \nlies, that is not spoken of as immoral ; if he cheats his neigh- \nbor, that is not spoken of as immoral ; if he is cruel to his \nwife, that is not spoken of as immoral; if he is a brute \ntowards his children, that is not called a breach of morals. A \nman can do almost anything, if he keeps within sight of cer- \ntain technical definitions, and escape any outward penalty. \nWe need to revise our use of language as well as to modify \nour ideas of the relation of conduct to the religious life. \nForms, creeds, institutions, — religion has come to be popu- \nlarly, chiefly, these. Mark you, and do not misunderstand ; \nand let no one misreport me. I do not mean that the \nchurches do not preach that one should do right, that they \ndo not preach morality and good conduct. I only say that, \npractically, these other things are regarded as of more im- \nportance. They attract chief attention. They disturb pres- \nbyteries and synods ; and these other things do not. These \nare placed at the front and the top ; and the other things are \nrelegated to a place of comparatively less importance. \n\nLet us see what it has come to. Note a few illustrations \nof this division in our way of thinking. We talk about cer- \ntain books as sacred books. When you read the Bible, you \nexpect to find God there. If you find a truth there, it is \nGod's truth. You read Shakspere, and come across some \nbrilliant statement of an eternal truth; and no one ever \nthinks of calling it God's truth. That is human truth : a dis- \ntinction is made. Days are set apart. One day out of seven \n— not a very large proportion — is given to God : the rest \nwe keep for ourselves. It is God's day. If you do certain \nthings on that day, God is going to be angry with you. You \ncan do the same things the day before or the day after, and \nGod is not supposed to pay any attention to it : this is his \ntime. There is a certain sort of truth that God is supposed \nto regard, another kind he is not. That is established in all \nour courts. If a man holds up his hand and takes the oath, \nhe expects God is going to do something to him if he does \n\n\nII \n\nnot tell the truth. But he goes out of the court-room, and in \nfive minutes tells any number of lies without thinking appar- \nently that God is listening. He feels bound to tell the truth \nif he swears in the name of God that he will ; but he does not \nfeel any obligation to tell the truth before or afterward. So \nGod is in a certain place. We talk about holy places where \nGod abides. Hymns talk about God coming, — \" Come, holy \nSpirit, come,\" — as though he were not here, as though he \nwere off somewhere, as though he were not in contact with \nthe daily life. So they make a distinction between this world \nand the next world. God is in heaven : things in this world \nare worldly, God is not here. And people, if it were not for \nthe fact that they know they are going to die, and suppose \nthat they have got to go into God's presence, would not \nthink it worth while to pay any attention to him at all. That \nis the logical result of the old teaching about him as to where \nhe is and what he has to do with human life. Said a man \nto me in the West, one day, \" In my judgment, if there was \nno devil, there would not be many Christians.\" His idea \nwas that being a Christian was simply a method of escaping \nthe devil and getting ready for the next world. If it were \nnot for that, men would not trouble themselves to become \nChristians. \n\nWhen I was a boy, I was always taught not that religion \nwas a method of life, but it was something that you were ex- \npected to get. They always talked about \" getting \" religion, \nhaving religion. If you got religion before you died, you \nwent to heaven : if you did not, you went somewhere else. \nReligion was something outside, something to attach yourself \nto, — not a part of you, not a method of thinking and feel- \ning and acting. \n\nLet me call your attention to two or three further illustra- \ntions of what this has come to. Take it in our life of pleas- \nure, the joys of life. God is not supposed to be there, he is \nnot in sympathy with them. God does not look upon us \nwith complacency when we are enjoying ourselves. This is \nsupposed to be frivolous, worldly, dangerous to the spiritual \nlife- I was always taught this in my boyhood until I do not \n\n\n12 \n\nwonder that a certain little boy should express himself as \nfollows : He saw a sign posted up, forbidding the doing of \ncertain things that he wanted to do. He asked what they \nwould do if he should disobey that law. His father replied, \n\" If we should do that, the policeman would arrest us.\" After \na moment's thought the little fellow said, \" What a fine time \nwe might have in this world if it were not for God and the \npolicemen ! \" Does this exaggerate the popular conception ? \nTake Shakspere, and see how he gives it. Dance along the \n\"primrose path\" to where? If you walk the \"primrose \npath,\" it is to the \" everlasting bonfire,\" in Shakspere. In \nall literature pleasure is something separate from God. We \nwill get all we can by stealth ; and then we will get religion \nsoon enough, so that we may escape the consequence when \nwe get into the next world. It does not make much differ- \nence in this world. \n\nSo, in business life, do you not know, gentlemen, that \nthere are business rules, business methods, business ways, \nthat are not right, but which are supposed to be necessary \nin order to success in business ? Is it not true that there \nare people who say, \" That is all beautiful, that is all ideal, \nthat is clean, that is pure, that is true, but it is not busi- \nness \" ? If you will pardon me for telling another story that \nwill make you smile, — I do not often do it, — I will tell an \nincident that illustrates this point. I was in Tennessee in \nthe fall of 1863, and they told me the story of one of the \narmy wagon-drivers. When the mules and the wagon got \nstuck in the mud, he was in the habit of indulging in a good \ndeal of profanity. One day, when the chaplain remon- \nstrated, he turned on him with all seriousness, and said, \nvoicing the popular conception, \" That is all right, chaplain ; \nbut there's no use talking, it's just impossible to drive a \nmule team and be a Christian.\" Is it not true that in the \nthought of a great many, \" It is impossible to drive my \nbusiness and be a Christian \" ? \n\nThen take it in our political life. During the war the idea \nof mixing religion and politics was spoken of with supreme \ncontempt, as though it were an utterly impossible and unrea- \n\n\n13 \n\nsonable thing. I remember how Joshua R. Giddings, of Ohio, \nused to refer to that. He said that, as religion and politics \nwent, it would cause a great deal of trouble; but, if they were \nboth what they ought to be, it might be a very good thing, \nindeed. Men are apt to say they must follow certain meth- \nods, in order to win. But must we win ? There is the fal- \nlacy. When some one pursuing a scoundrelly course of con- \nduct said to old Dr. Johnson once, as an excuse, \" But I must \nlive,\" he bluntly replied that he did not see the necessity for \nit at all. There is no necessity that overtops the necessity \nfor obedience to the laws of God ; for these laws are the laws \nof life, — of life in this world and in all worlds. \n\nLet me turn now to speak of what seems to me to be the \nroot of all this difficulty, the one thing we must learn in \norder to cure it. We have divorced religion from life. We \nhave put God off into another world, and that a future world. \nWe have made religion largely a matter of form, of cere- \nony, of creed, of institution, of services ; and we have lived \na life without God. Now, let us see if it is not this concep- \ntion which lies at the root of our trouble. Bishop Brooks \nwas reported as having once said, two or three years ago, — \nI do not know how accurate the report was, — that \" Chris- \ntianity is supernatural or it is nothing.\" I would challenge \nthat assertion, and rather say, Christianity is natural if it is \nanything. Religion is natural if it is anything. We have \nmade it supernatural, we have put it off from ourselves into \nanother sphere ; and so we lead our lives according to certain \nideas and canons of conduct. We conduct our religion at \ncertain times and hours and places under entirely other \ncanons. \n\nWhere is God } It is well, I think, that modern science \nhas abolished both the old heaven and the old hell. You \nremember in the Eastern apologue one said, he found a \nwoman one day with a pail of water in one hand and a \nlighted torch in the other, and they asked what she was going \nto do. She said she was going to burn up heaven with the \ntorch and put out hell with the water, that people might do \nright because it was right, and not from hope of the one or \n\n\n14 \n\nfear of the other. This strikes at the truth. We need to \nbring God into the realm of our daily life, and understand \nthat he is not away from the world. The thing that religion \nhas always been after is to arrange things with God, so that \nwe can get on right terms with him, get into right relations \nwith him. That does not change. That is what we are here \nfor now. \n\nBut where is God ? Let us see. God is the infinite spirit, \nthe life of all things, of all worlds, of all epochs, of all relig- \nions, of all places. When we discover a truth, whether in \nscience or in philosophy, in the Bible or elsewhere, it is \nGod's truth. God is in every department of life. When the \nfarmer studies the conditions of the soil, the conditions under \nwhich he can plant his crops successfully and raise harvests, \nhe is dealing with the laws, the presence, the power, the \nwork, of God. When the inventor discovers a new method \nof accomplishing some grand result ; when Mr. Edison in \nexperimenting, as he says he does, a thousand or two thou- \nsand times, following clews until he gets the right one, — when \nhe gets the right one, he has found God's way of doing it. \nBuild a mill on the bank of a stream, adopt your machinery \nto the flow and power of the water, and you are arranging \nthings so that God's force turns your wheel for you. In \nevery department of human activity, if you find a force, \nyou have found God. If you find a condition by which that \nforce will serve you, you have found God's law of the activity \nof that force. \n\nAnd, when you go into business, as you do, there is no \nreputable business on earth that, rightly conducted, is not \na mutual service and a general help. Business, then, rightly \nconducted, is finding God's laws as they deal with the mutual \ninterchange and service that man can render to man. Now \nand then we see people trying to outwit the universe, trying \nto get rid of God's methods in the business world ; but they \ndo not meet with encouraging success. Look over the world \nand find those who year by year and in the long run are the \nmen who have conducted their business honorably and faith- \nfully and truly, and you find those who, in the long run, are \n\n\nIS \n\nthe successful men. The right method of doing business is \nGod*s way of doing business. \n\nAnd so in political life we can now and then by croolced \nmethods win a temporary success for our party ; but here, \nagain, the principles that underlie social and governmental \nrelations are God's laws that bind people together. The \nconditions of human growth are of God. We have been told \nsometimes that this or that particular method would un- \ndoubtedly be for the benefit of the world, but not, at pres- \nent, for the benefit of our people. In other words, we can \ngrab more and get more than our share. Any thief can do \nthat. But in the long run, not being God's method, not. \nbeing nature's method, not being the human method, it \ncannot win. This universe is a moral universe, ethical from \nzenith to nadir, because God is in it, from the farthest reach \nof the utmost star to the dust under our feet ; and the laws \nof this universe are the laws of life, and they are God's laws. \nLet a man obey the laws of his body, and he is well. Let \nhim obey the laws of his mind, let him make his intellect an \ninstrument for the discovery of truth, let him be a truth- \nseeker ; let him make his affections over in such a way that \nthey love all that is lovely and of good report ; let him train \nhis spiritual nature until his aspirations reach out after the \nhighest and noblest things; in other words, let him become \na rounded out and complete man, — and is there anything be- \nyond that that religion can do for him ? Can any religion \nadd anything to him? He is the embodiment of religion. \nFor, instinctively, — the race has felt it from the first, — the ob- \nject of religion is to get into right relations with God. And \nwhen we remember that God is everywhere, that he presses \non every faculty of our being as the atmosphere presses upon \nour bodies, then being just right, being a man, true and \nnoble in every department of one's being, is being in right \nrelation to God ; and that is religion. \n\nFather, we thank Thee that we may find Thee everywhere, \nand that the only thing Thou desirest at our hands is that we \nshall find Thy way and walk in it ; and this way is the way of \nlife and peace and joy. Amen. \n\n\nNOV 23 1891 \n\nPTibUahed weekly. Price $1.60 a year, or 5 cents slnerle copy \n\n\nUNITY PULPIT \n\nBOSTON \n\n\nj SERMONS OF M. J. SAVAGE \n\nVol. 13 NOVEMBER 20, 1891 No. 6 \n\nSERIES ON \n\nEVERY-DAY RELIGION \n\n\nII. THE HEAD AND THE HEART \n\n\nc \nBOSTON \n\n\nGEORGE H. ELLIS, 141 FRANKLIN STREET \n1S91 \n\n\nBnterfd at the Po*t-offiee, Baton, Afau., as second-cku* mail matter. \n\n\nMr. Savage's Books. \n\n\nReligiouB Reconstruaion. lamo Ii.oo \n\nThese Decenerate Days. Small i6aio. Flexible 50 \n\nMy Creed. lamo t.oo \n\nPoerat. i6mo. Fall gilt. With portrait 1.50 \n\nLight on the Qoud. i6mo. Full gilt 1.35 \n\nSocial Problems. lamo 1.00 \n\nThe Relisious Life. lamo i.oo \n\nBehef in God. lamo i.oo \n\nBeliefs abont Man. lamo 1.00 \n\nBeliefs about the Bible. 1.00 \n\nThe Modem Sphinx, iimo 1.00 \n\nThe Morals of ETolution. lamo i.oo \n\nTalks about Jesus, iimo ^ i.oo \n\nMan, Woman and Child, ismo *..... i.oo \n\nChristianity the Sdenoe of Manhood. lamo i.oo \n\nThe Religion of Erolution. camo 1.50 \n\nLife Questions. i6mo xmo \n\nBluffton : A Stonr of To-day. lamo 1.50 \n\nHelps for Dailv Living. lamo i.oo \n\nThe Signs of tne Times. lamo i.oo \n\nLife. lamo i.oo \n\nThe Minister's Hand-book. For Christenings, Weddings, \n\nand Funerals. Cloth 75 \n\nSacred Songs for Public Worship. A Hymn and Tune \n\nBook. Edited by M. J. Savage and Howard M. Dow. \n\nQoth t.oo \n\nLeather 1.50 \n\nUniurian Catechism. With an Introduction by £. A. Horton. \n\nPnce, Paper, per copy so cents. Per doz., 1.50 \n\n'• Cloth, •« .... 30 \" \" a.50 \n\n\nMr. Savage's weekly sermons are regularlv printed in pamphlet \nform in \" Unity Pulpit.\" Subscription price, tor the season, $i.y>; \nsingle copies, 5 cents. \n\nGEO. H. RLUS, PtMisk^r^ \n\n141 Franklm St,, Bctten, Mus. \n\n\nTHE HEAD AND THE HEART.* \n\n\n\"Keep thy heart with all diligence; for out of it are the issues of \nlife.\" — Prov. iv. 23. \n\nThe progress of the world, looked at in one way, has been \na sort of uneven balance between feeling and thought, be- \ntween emotion and the intellect. Sometimes the emotional \nside preponderates in the case of the individual or in the \nmanagement of a cause, and we see the natural results. \nSometimes it is the intellect, the head, that preponderates ; \nand here also, in the case of the individual or in the case of \na cause, we see the natural results ; and in neither case are \nthe results always desirable, always what we should wish. \n\nTake as a most familiar illustration the case of a father \nor mother in the training of the children. You will readily \ncall to mind cases where the emotional side, the tenderness, \nthe love, the feeling, has everything its own way. Father \nand mother cannot bear to thwart or cross the child. The \nchild is indulged, its fancies, its whims, its temporary wishes, \nare allowed to have their scope. \n\nOn the other hand there are cases now and then — there \nwere many such cases in the Puritan old New England — \nwhere the affection al side was constantly repressed, where \nthe head and its dictations as to what ought to be were \nconstantly to the front, where the child's yearnings for love, \nfor the expression of affection, were neither called out nor \nmet. My own childhood, and I speak of it in no disparag- \nment of my father or my mother, will illustrate this. I do \nnot remember in all my childhood ever being petted, ever \n\n• Phonographically reported. \n\n\nhaving a loving hand placed upon my head as an expression \nof love. I do not remember any occasion in all my child- \nhood when by either my father or my mother I was kissed \nat night or morning, or on any other occasion. And yet \nthere was no lack of love on their part. Either one of them \nwould have worked himself or herself ill for my sake, or sac- \nrificed any pleasure, if persuaded that it would be good \nfor me. I only speak of this as one illustration of the ex- \ntreme in the direction of repression of the heart. \n\nTake it also in matters of practical charity. Here again \nthere is conflict between the head and the heart at every \nturn. The impulse of the heart is to be touched by the \nsimple fact that here is pain ; and, if the impulse is to have \nits own way, the first thing to be done is to relieve that pain \nby the nearest and speediest of methods. And yet any one \nwho has studied the history of the world's charities will \nknow that this heart impulse immediately to relieve suffer- \ning has caused more suffering than all the careful, calculating \nthought of the head. Time and time again this impulse to \nindiscriminate charity and the immediate relief of suffer- \ning has proved itself the creator of more beggary, therefore \nmore suffering, more social degradation, than almost any- \nthing else. \n\nOn the other hand, it is quite possible to carry this cal- \nculation too far, to deny the impulse of the heart, to treat it \nas a luxury not to be indulged in, to treat it as a misguided \nimpulse not to be followed, and so to become hard, to be- \ncome cruel, to neglect cases of real need. There is possi- \nbility of danger in either direction. \n\nAs another illustration of this conflict, it is frequently said \nthat a woman's instinct, a woman's feeling, is wiser than the \nreason of man. In many cases, this is true. There is no \nsort of question that there are hundreds and thousands of \ncases where, if one should stop for the consciou3 delibera- \ntion of reason, it would be too late, the mischief would be \ndone. \n\nLet us note one or two of the most familiar illustrations, \n\n\ns \n\nthat you may see what I mean. Take a bird or a domestic \nfowl, when a hawk is in the air. At the first glimpse of the \nshadow of a wing there is immediate flight to some place of \nshelter, of safety. If the bird or the hen were capable of \nstopping to reason it out and say, This shadow on the \nground means a hawk, and the hawk is an enemy to our \nrace, it is dangerous to remain, — if they were to stop to go \nthrough this reasoning, the hawk would have its way before \nthe reasoning was complete. Take it when we shrink from \nsome threat of danger, and spring aside at the suggestion \nthat something is falling, is liable to do us an injury. If we \nshould stop to reason about it and say, Heavy bodies falling \nfrom a distance in the air and coming in contact with the \nhuman body will of necessity produce harm, the harm would \nbe done before we had reached the end of our logical chain. \nWe instinctively shrink from impending danger. \n\nBut stop a moment. When people say that instinct is \nwiser than reason, there is frequently a false inference, — an \ninference I have frequently heard drawn, — that instinct is \nall heart, that instinct is simply feeling. But what is in- \nstinct ? If you study carefully the development of instinct \nin regard to any of the lower forms of life or in man, \nit matters not which, you find that it is the inherited result \nof a thousand experiences, of a thousand courses of reason- \ning that have been gone through in the past. A thousand \ntimes, a million times, has the hawk hung in air ; and expe- \nrience has proved that that means danger. Thousands \nof times have falling bodies crushed or broken or injured \npersons ; and the reasoning process has been gone through \na million times, until now instinct is not only organized feel- \ning, it is an organized process of reasoning. And, when \na woman's instinct is more trustworthy than the deliberate, \nlogical argument of the man, it means that she leaps to a \nlogical and a correct conclusion with such rapidity as leaves \nout of sight the steps from the beginning to the end. It \nis the inherited result of both feeling and reason. \n\nLet us now take note of our text. I do not know who \n\n\nwas the author of it ; but, so far as the value of the truth it \ncontains is concerned, it does not matter who was the author. \nIt contains a very profound truth. I do not know that it \ncan be better expressed. \" Keep thy heart with all dili- \ngence.\" Why? **For out of it are the issues of life.\" In \nother words, letting the heart here, as in popular parlance it \ndoes, represent the love, the feeling, the impulse, the emo- \ntional nature, it is true that this is the deepest thing in life. \nIt is the highest thing in life. A man's conduct, a man's \ncharacter, in the long run, is determined by his supreme love. \nThat person, that thing, that ideal, that cause, that course \nof conduct which a man loves supremely, — it is this that \ndetermines his life. But is that all the text ? No. It does \nnot say : \" Follow the impulse of your heart, whichever way \nit leads. Do not stop to think about it, do not be governed \nby the intellect, do not let this cold, calculating reason come \nin to have anything to do with it.\" It says. Just because the \nissues of life are from the heart, keep that heart, keep it as a \nsentinel watches on his post, — keep it, guard it, guide it with \nall diligence, above everything. Here, then, this old writer, \nthis old proverb-maker, long before Christianity was known, \nhad evolved out of the experience of the ages that preceded \nhim this profound conception of the profoundest truth of \nlife. The emotional, the impulse, the heart, then, it is which \ndetermines your character : therefore, keep it, watch it, guard \nit, guide it with diligence. \n\nWe are ready now to look a little more closely at the heart \nand the head as contrasted together, and note some of their \nvery prominent characteristics. \n\nI notice that a good many people, when they are talking \nabout the heart, mix up with the activity of the feeling, the \nemotion, a good deal of thought, while they call it all heart, \nall emotion, all feeling. And yet their method of speaking \nof it implies that the head is playing a large part. If we \nwish to be clear in our thought, that is not fair. On the \nother hand, a great many people, when speaking of the head, \nthe intellect, do not draw a clear line of distinction between \n\n\nthought and feeling ; and so they err on the other side. I \nwish you to note, therefore, that in what I am going to say \nto you about the heart and the head I shall try, as far as \npossible, to keep them separate from each other. \n\nI note, therefore, in the first place that the heart, if it has \nits own way, places comfort supreme above everything else. \nIt must do it. It cannot help it. Feeling is the deepest \nthing in life ; and, if we are free and can have our own way, \nit is only a truism to say that we choose a pleasant feeling, \nand not an unpleasant one. We cannot choose something \nfreely that we do not wish. I may wish, indeed, to choose \na present pain for the sake of an after satisfaction. But, if \nthe present pain is looked at simply for its own sake, then I \ncannot choose it, because that is a contradiction in terms. \nThe heart, then, first and foremost and always, if it has its \nown way, seeks immediate comfort and satisfaction. \n\nYet the history of this world has proved over and over \nagain that this may not by any means be the best thing to \nseek. Immediate comfort may mean disappointment and \npain, immediate satisfaction may mean years of regret. The \nheart, then, with its home instincts has learned to find com- \nfort in its home, and would not change even for a better. \nThe heart never impels the emigrant to seek out another \ncountry, a larger opportunity, a grander future. The heart \nnever leaves the thoughts and feelings it has become ac- \ncustomed to and has learned to love, for the sake of going \nout as a pioneer in search of the new, the unaccustomed, \nwhich cannot bring immediate comfort. \n\nThen, again, the heart is always conservative. It loves \nthat to which it has been adjusted. It loves the old home, \nthe old ideas, the old places. It loves those things where it \nhas made itself an easy nest. Take it in the lower forms of \nlife. If that mouse which Burns so beautifully and pathet- \nically celebrates in one of his poems had had head enough, \nbrain enough, thought enough, its nest need not have been \noverturned by the plough of the farmer poet. He would have \nplanted bis nest somewhere out of reach of the plough. The \n\n\nheart, then, is not to be trusted as a guide in these mat- \nters. \n\nOnce more, the heart is the great impelling, motive force \nof all action. Thought alone never moved a man. Thought \nalone never was the inspiration of a cause. Thought alone \nnever led a reform. It is the heart, the heart always, which \nis the motive force, the power that lifts and impels the \nworld. And yet, if you take out the head and leave simply \nimpulse, simply feeling, then this power frequently becomes \na grotesque, wasteful, unnatural thing. \n\nWhat does it do in religion ? Take the head out of relig- \nion, and let simply the feeling remain. On that basis you \ncould never convert a man or a woman from a lower relig- \nion to a higher. Religion under the control of emotion runs \ninto excesses, into all the antinomianisms. All the excesses \nthat history has shown in the manifestation of the religious \nlife have come from this exuberance of the heart, the im- \npulse, the feeling, unguided by the light of intelligence and \nexperience. \n\nGo down South, if you wish to see what this comes to. \nSome years ago I attended a colored revival meeting in \nNashville. It seemed to me a wild riot, impulse let loose. \nImpulse taken without reason was considered the movement \nof the Holy Spirit, until people were practically insane, roll- \ning on the floor, indulging in all sorts of physical contor- \ntions and wild outcries. I make no discrimination against \nthe colored race. I have seen just as wild and unreasoning \nactions among the white people in the West and South-west. \nI remember being in a white revival meeting where the men \nand the women were lying fainting on the floor, where the \naltar rail was torn to pieces, and men hardly conscious of \nwhat they were doing were dancing wildly about the aisles \nwith the rails in their hands. They had got the \" power,\" \nthey had got the ** Spirit,\" as they supposed. It was a wild \ncarnival of the heart, of the impulse, the passional side of \nthe being. \n\nGo down to the South-west, — for I do not know that it has \nbeen found anywhere else, — and you will see sects called \n\n\nthe jumpers, or jerkers, — persons so swayed by their feelings \nthat they suppose for the time they are under the Divine in- \nfluence. Their hands and arms become aimless, and their \nmovements are beyond their control ; and the struggle goes \non until the system is exhausted, and they fall into a faint \nwhich they take to be a religious trance. These are rough \nillustrations as to what may be seen in a religious way if peo- \nple leave brains out. \n\nLet us note one or two characteristics of the head if left \nto itself. \n\nThe head is the organ for the discovery of truth; and, \nwhen the head is engaged in the discovery of truth, the heart \nhas no business to meddle. To show a preference is an im- \npertinence. When you are trying to discover what is God's \ntruth, what right have you to impose your wish, your bias, \nyour desire ? What you need to see is God's truth clearly \nin the white light of intelligence, and the brain ought to be \nas unbiassed as a pair of scales. This is the business of the \nbrain, — to find out what is truth. But, if the heart is entirely \nleft out of account, the brain becomes merely the maker of \nformulas, the inventor of creeds. It becomes an engine \nof cruelty and of oppression. A man who fancies that he \nhas found out God's truth, in almost all the ages of the past, \nhas assumed that he had a right to force that on other peo- \nple. It is only within a very modern time, only within a \nhundred years or so, even in this country, that it has been \nsupposed to be right to leave people free to follow their own \nconvictions. You will find that the leaders of thought in \nthis country, both North and South, immediately before the \nRevolutionary War, all scouted the idea as being not only \nirrational, but wicked. The idea that people should be left \nfree, that there should be toleration, was an abhorrence to \nthem. So the head has been a persecutor. The head built \nthe Inquisition. The head burned Servetus. It was a tech- \nnical definition that people fought over when the old creeds \nwere framed. It is a technical definition, an intellectual \ndistinction, the speculations concerning the interior struct- \n\n\nlO \n\nure of the heart of God, that have made people cruel, that \nhave led to persecution and to the stake. The head, then, \nalone is no more to be trusted than the heart. But the \nhead, let us never forget, is the only organ of knowledge. \nThe head, therefore, is the only guide as to what is true. \nIt is the head always that must decide as to whether a thing \nis true or false, therefore as to whether this is the right way \nor that. \n\nWe are ready now to see how this ought to work in \ncertain practical directions. \n\nI hinted a moment ago, although I did not make the \npoint clear, that the heart, the feeling, is the deepest thing \nin life. When life first appeared on this planet, if there had \nbeen an observer present to see, he would have noted that \nthe first manifestation of life was sentiency, feeling, move- \nment. This precedes anything that can properly be called \nintelligence. Intelligence comes afterwards. Feeling, then, \nis the deepest thing and the highest thing, the first thing and \nthe last. The motive force is feeling; and therefore it is \nconstantly to be watched, to be guarded, and to be guided \naright. \n\nSuppose, for example, a man has to choose between some \nform of Paganism and Christianity. Suppose a man belong- \ning to neither of them should raise the question whether \nhe would be a Mohammedan or a Christian : how would he \ndecide ? Would he decide by his feeling ? You find just as \npassionate and earnest feeling among the Mohammedans as \namong Christians. We should find people there as ready to \ndie for their feelings as we should be. How should he \ndecide ? Why, of course, the only rational way would be to \nstudy the two systems of religion, mark their origin, their \nmethods, their development, and see what are their results \non human civilization ; see which more nearly matches the \ndemonstrated truth of things ; see which has in it the power \nof lifting and leading civilization and of making men higher \nand better. And the deciding of that problem must be laid \nupon the intellect. It is thought, — clear, unprejudiced, un- \n\n\nII \n\nbiassed thought, taking into account all the facts, — thought \nonly that is capable of deciding. See how our unconscious \nuse of language expresses the situation. The moment you \nleave reason out of account, then there is no reason left why \nyou should be one any more than another. \n\nSuppose you have decided to become a Christian, then \nanother question faces you : To what section of the Christian \nChurch shall I belong ? Shall I be a Romanist or a Protes- \ntant ? And, if a Protestant, to which one of the sects shall I \nattach myself? Have you a right, in a matter of this sort, to \nbe governed by your feelings and let your heart have its \nway ? No, never. The problem may be ever so. intricate ; \nbut, if the problem can be solved, some one set of people are \nnearer right in their thought of God, of the universe, of \nman's origin and destiny, than any of the others. And by \nas much as you wish to be on God's side and help on the \nspeedy triumph of righteousness and truth, by so much you \nare under the highest of all obligations to try at least, to the \nbest of your ability, to settle this question, and cast your in- \nfluence with the light and the truth and the hope of the \nworld. You have no right, then, to join this church or that \nfrom impulse, merely because you feel like it, merely be- \ncause you find comfort and peace and social advantage or \nany mere satisfaction in that particular church. By as much \nas you are an intelligent being, by so much it is your highest \nduty to try to find out which way the race is moving most \nrapidly towards God and its own deliverance j and then it is \nyour duty to cast in your influence in that direction. \n\nSuppose your little child comes to you and asks you, What \nmust I do in this case or that? Is it enough to say. My \nson, you must do right ? He may say. What is right ? Can \nyou settle that question or any practical problem of life by \nyour heart, by your feeling? Can you even settle it by your \nconscience? No. During our Civil War Stonewall Jack- \nson was just as conscientious as General Grant. Moham- \nmedans are just as conscientious as Christians. The mother \nwho casts her child into the Ganges is as conscientious as \n\n\n12 \n\nthe mother who gives her life in watching over her child who \nis suffering from a contagious disease. Conscientiousness \nmay be only a bias or a prejudice. What is right in this or \nthat direction is a matter for intellect to determine. What \ncourse of conduct in the past history of the world has proved \nitself to be helpful, what has lifted up the level of human \nsociety, what has conduced to human welfare, what has made \nthe world nobler and better, — these are questions for study. \nOur hearts not only, but our consciences, need constantly to \nbe supervised, to be watched over, to be guided, to be kept, \nby the intellect. \n\nTake any one of the great reforms of the world, — touch- \ning matters of crime, touching the social problem, the status \nof labor, questions of wages or temperance, — take any of \nthese, and, as I have said to you before let me say it in \nthis .connection again, one of the saddest things to a careful \nstudent is to see how much of impulse, how much of heart, \nhow much of emotion, how much of enthusiasm, has been \nwasted, thrown away, merely for lack of intellectual guid- \nance. How many people there are to-day, in regard to \nsocial problems, who are throwing themselves away, — beat- \ning their lives out against the eternal laws of the universe, \nattempting the impossible, attempting that which is proved \nby human experience a hundred times over to be impossible I \nW^hy? Because they are ignorant, — because they have not \nstudied human history and learned its lessons, because they \nhave not found out that the same thing has been tried \nover and over again and could not be accomplished. Men \nhave wasted half their lives in trying to invent perpetual mo- \ntion,— something in the nature of things utterly absurd, — \nsimply because of the lack of a little intellectual guidance. \nWhen any reform is to the front, it is not enough to have \nemotion, enthusiasm, — to have people feel so much that they \nwill travel round the world. It is not enough that their \nhearts are on fire. If they wish to succeed, they must study \ncarefully the conditions of the problem in the light of mod- \nrn history and experience, and find out which way to act. \n\n\n13 \n\nIt is because men allow their hearts to have too much to \nsay, from prejudice, fr.om impulse, that you find reformers at \ncross-purposes in almost every direction, hindering each \nother instead of helping on the common cause in which they \nare all presumably equally interested. \n\nSo it does not make any difference which way you turn, \nyou must have heart and head in judicious combination. \n\nSuppose you go down to the wharf with me, and point out \nto me two ships equally well built. In the hold of one there \nis a magnificent engine and the possibility of tremendous \npower. The amount of steam that you can get up is enough \nto drive it with a greater rapidity than that by which any \nsteamer has ever crossed the sea. But there is no chart, it \nhas no rudder, and there is no intelligent man placed in \ncharge of it. The other ship has no boiler and no engine in \nthe hold. It has no power and no means of propulsion ; but \nit has the finest chart of the Atlantic ever constructed, an \nadmirable rudder, and the most intelligent and experienced \ncaptain that you could demand. Suppose you wish to go \nto Europe, which steamer would you take ? Of course, you \nwould not take either. Power in the hold, enough to drive a \nship or a cause anywhere, means folly and destruction, if that \nis all. The heart, mighty in its impulses, with power enough \nto revolutionize the world, means only mischief, if that is all. \nOn the other hand, your chart, your rudder, your intelligence \nat the helm, are utterly powerless, if they be all. What it \nneeds, then, if any cause is to get anywhere, if a church, if \nreform, if any human institution, is to succeed and be of ser- \nvice to the world, is the impulse, the emotion, the magnifi- \ncent heart-power, and then the keenest, clearest intelligence \nof the mind, educated in all the results of past human expe- \nrience. It needs these as a guide. \n\nI am not, then, an advocate of the heart nor of the head. \nI am an advocate of the heart and the head, the heart kept \nin its place and the head kept in its place, — one power, the \nother guidance. \n\nA true man is a man of sentiment. A man is worth noth- \n\n\ning for this world if sentiment be not the deepest and highest \nthing in all his nature. Do not despise as weakness that \nwhich places untold value on a bit of ribbon, a leaf, a faded \nflower. I have two books in my library. They are printed \non poor paper. I presume I could replace them for a dollar \na volume ; but a hundred dollars or five hundred would not \nbuy them. Why? Because, when I take those books in my \nhand or read them, I am not reading merely the words of the \nauthor. My brother, whose voice I have not heard for many \nyears, is by my side, looking over my shoulder. His finger- \nprints are on the leaves, his voice is in my ear, his heart \nbeats close to mine ; and the book has round it the fragrance \nof a love that is deeper than life. This is sentiment. Such \na sentiment binds a man to his regiment, to his flag, to bis \ncause, to his church, to his people, to his home. This is the \ngrandest and deepest thing in man ; but, unless reason domi- \nnates it, it becomes sentimentality, which is a shame to man- \nhood. It is a weakness then ; and, if it controls, it leads \nastray, leads to folly and destruction. \n\nLet us, then, cherish the heart, and know that he only is a \nman who has learned to love the highest, the truest, the most \nbeautiful, the best things ; and that, if he has learned to love \nthese, he has learned them, he has been taught by his intel- \nlect in the light of the experience of the past. \n\nFather, Thou art love, and the deepest thing in Thee is love. \nAnd Thou art also infinite wisdom, and the wisdom guides \nand controls the love. In this, as in all things, let us be \nperfect, even as our Father in heaven is perfect. Amen. \n\n\nUnitarian Catechism \n\nBY \n\nM. J. SAVAGE \n\nWITH AN INTRODUCTION BY E. A. HORTON \n\n\nPrice, Paper, per Copy, . ... 20 cents. \n\n\" Do{ ^7.50 \n\nCloth, \" Copy, . . . . )0 cents. \n\n\" Doi $2.^0 \n\n\nINTRODUCTION. \n\nThe preface by Mr. S.xvajje cives the re.isons, rl.arly and concisely, why a book \nlike this is nf-dcd. It anbWfr> a j^rt .it dt-niincl, nnd it will siipplv a serious deficiency. \nH.ivinj; had the privik');e fif ro.\\erMin.il directiitn. It is not a hird-and- \nfast production. There is a l.inje li'.)crtv of detdl, e\\iil.in.itu»n, and nnfoldiiij;. The \ndoctrinal jiositions are in accord with r.iti .n.il reli; rinancri: faith, li any owm finds comments and \ncriticisms which at first sijjht seuin needli ^'S, let it be remembered that a Unitarian cat- \nechism must Kive reasons, point out err-Ts, and trace causes: it cannot simply dogma- \ntize. I am suie that in tlie true use ** *r« ufnitUus muU matttr. \n\n\n\\0V '^^' lo9^ \n\n\nMr. Savage's Books. \n\n\nReligious Reconstruaion. lamo #i.oo \n\nTheftc Degenerate Days. Small i6mo. Flexible 50 \n\nMy Creed. lamo 1.00 \n\nPoems. i6mo. Full gilL With portrait 1.50 \n\nLight on the Cloud. i6mo. Full gilt 1.95 \n\nSocial Problems. lamo i.oo \n\nThe Religious Life. lamo 1.00 \n\nBelief in God. lamo 1.00 \n\nBeliefs about Man. lamo 1.00 \n\nBeliefs about the Bible. t.oo \n\nThe Modern Sphinx. lamo i.oo \n\nThe Morals of Evolution. lamo 1.00 \n\nTalks about Jesus. lamo i.oo \n\nMao, Woman and Child. lamo i.oo \n\nChristianity the Science of Manhood, lamo i.oo \n\nThe Religion of Evolution, lamo 1.50 \n\nLife Questions. i6mo 1.00 \n\nBluffton : A Stonr of To-day. lamo 1.50 \n\nHelps for Dailv Living. lamo 1.00 \n\nThe Signs of the Times. lamo i.oo \n\nLife. lamo i.oo \n\nThe Minister's Hand-book. For Christenings, Weddings, \n\nand Funerals. Cloth 75 \n\nSacred Songs for Public Worship. A Hymn and Tune \n\nBook. Edited by M. J. Savage and Howard M. Dow. \n\nQoth I.oo \n\nLeather 1.50 \n\nUnitarian Catechism. With an Introduction by £. A. Horton. \n\nPrice, Paper, per copy, .... accents. Per dos., 1.50 \n\n** Cloth, \" .... 30 '* \" a.50 \n\n\nMr. Savage's weeklv sermons are regularlv printed in pamphlet \nform in \" Unity Pulpit.'' Subscription price, lor the season, ^i.so; \nsingle copies, 5 cents. \n\nGEO. H. ELLIS, PuMisktr, \n\ni4i Franklin St,, B^$i^, Mau. \n\n\nMAN THE WAY TO GOD/ \n\n\n** Oh that I knew where I might find him ! that I might come even fc? \nhis seat ! \" — Job xxiii. 3. \n\n\" If, therefore, thou art offering thy gift at the altar, and there remem- \nberest that thy brother hath aught against thee, leave there thy gift \nbefore the altar, and go thy way, first be reconciled to thy brother, and \nthen come and offer thy gift.** — Matt. v. 23, 24. \n\nIf, indeed, it be true that God is the soul, the life, of the \nuniverse ; if nothing is without him ; if the stars are guided \nin their courses by his wisdom and held in their places by \nhis power ; if the tiniest grains o{ dust as they move through \ntheir orbits are equally moved and upheld by his power ; if \nwhat we call natural laws are only the methods of the divine \nworking, — then, indeed, it must be true that the secret of all \nthings that we can desire is in finding God. If, on the \nphysical plane, I find him and obey him, it means bodily \nlife and health. If, on the mental plane, I find him and obey \nhim, it means the discovery of truth and beauty. If, on the \naflectional plane, I find him and obey him, it means the love \nand the adoration of all things true and beautiful and good. \nIf on the still higher spiritual plane, though we may not be \nable to separate it from either of the others, though we as \nspirits may comprehend all that is beneath spirit, on this \nplane finding and obeying him means recognizing our divine \nsonship, living lives in this world as sons and daughters of \nGod. And God is all that I have hinted, or he is nothing. \nI believe with my whole soul that the universe is saturated \nwith the divine ; that it is divine in all its parts, all its laws, \nall its forces and tendencies. \n\n• PhoDOgraphically reported. \n\n\nTo find God, therefore, consciously or unconsciously on \nthe part of man, has been the one age-long search of the \nrace ; and all the religions, all the sects, all the philosophies, \nall the schemes of human invention, all the dreams and \nideals, have been only different attempts on the part of \nhumanity to find the true, the beautiful, the good, the divine, \nwhich means to find God. It is the peculiarity, necessarily \nso, of each religion, each sect, each philosophy, each school, \nto think that it has the way, that it knows the path, that it \ncan guide the inquiring soul as none other can. Necessarily \nso, I say, because, if a Mohammedan, for example, believed \nthat the Christian knew better the way to find God than he \ndid, he would become converted and would be a Christian. \nIf an Episcopalian believed that a Unitarian knew better the \npathway to God, he would cease to be an Episcopalian and \nwould become a Unitarian. That is, if men are in earnest, \nif men think, if men care, they must occupy that position \nwhich they believe to be most favorable to the discovery of \nthe divine secret of the universe and of life. \n\nI propose this morning to ask you to review with me some \nof the methods that men have devised for finding God, to \nnote what degree of success has attended their search ; and \nthen I want to ask you to note with me what Jesus says \nabout his way of finding God, and to see whether he appears \nto have touched the divine secret, so that we may give our- \nselves heartily to his method, confident that the result shall \nbe the revelation to us of the beatific vision. \n\nOne of the commonest ways, represented in more denom- \ninations than one, represented in more sects than one, most \nmarked in the antique world and not yet outgrown, has been \nand is the belief that we could find God by going to some \nplace, by going on some sort of pilgrimage, that men could \ncome to his seat by a journey through space. Study the \ncondition of the thought and the practical life of the He- \nbrews before the coming of Jesus, and you find it was in \nJerusalem and not in all of that, it was in the temple and \nnot in all the temple, it was in the holy place, the holy of \n\n\n5 \n\nholies, where God could be found. His presence was mani- \nfested above the ark of the covenant, and the people once a \nyear, or twice, or thrice, as often as they might, came up \nfrom all the distant parts of the country on a pilgrimage to \nthe holy city, that they might find God, that they might hear \nhis word spoken to them, that they might make confession \nof their sins and hear the priest echo the divine forgiveness \nand send them home at peace, unburdened and free. \n\nGo to Mohammedan countries, and there, from the most \ndistant quarters, the pilgrims throng the ways that lead to \nMecca, and, when they have reached Mecca and the temple, \nthe Caaba, that special part of the temple which is pecul- \niarly so named, it was supposed to contain a black stone \nwhich an angel had given to Abraham, and which had been \npreserved there all these centuries ; and it had about it, in \nsome peculiar way, a manifestation of the divine presence. \nTo make this pilgrimage, to kiss this sacred stone, was to \nhave come into the very presence of God, to have had one's \nsins taken away and one's soul made clean. \n\nIn the ancient classic world, among the Greeks and \nRomans, and in many older than they, it was believed that \nthe gods were so attached to the soil, to special places, that, \nwhen they migp'ated and colonized some other part of the \nworld or founded another city, they must take some of the \nsacred soil with them, because the gods were linked to that, \nand only thus could they keep their deities with them. \n\nAmong the Hebrews, as we know, God was supposed in \nearlier times to be carried about in a box called the ark ; and \nbe was so attached to it that, when the Philistines captured \nthe ark, their God had departed from them, and they were \nweak and helpless. And they thought the gods of their \nenemies were confined to special territories ; and, when the \nHebrews were on those territories where these gods resided, \nthey could not conquer their enemies. They must get them \non to a foreign soil. There they would be without their \ndeities' help, and so would easily become victims. \n\nWe hold still, in Christendom, so far as the majority \n\n\nthought is concerned, substantially the same ideas. Within \nthe last year the pilgrims by the thousand, so eager to find \nGod that they have trampled on each other to their hurt, \nhave crowded the temple at Treves to get a look at the tat- \ntered rags of a garment supposed to have been worn by \nJesus, thinking that, if they could get there, — told this by \nthe chief of Christendom, — and could offer so many prayers \nas they passed through the cathedral, their sins would be \ntaken away. \n\nTo find God in special places, by journeys, by travelling, \nby pilgrimages, this has been a popular conception in almost \nevery age. God was located at some particular place. If \nthey could only get there, they could get to his seat and \nmight receive pardon and aid. \n\nThere is a truth here ; and that is the reason that the per- \nnicious error so abides. There are places on earth that are \nmore sacred on account of associations, memories, hopes, \nthan other places ; and in these it is easier for us to cultivate \ncertain moods of mind, of heart, of spirit, and this is the soul \nof truth that is in this huge error that has so misled the \nworld. \n\nLet us note another way in which people have supposed \nthey could find God, could come to him, — the way that Jesus \nrefers to in that passage of Scripture which is part of my \ntext. They have believed that God could be bought, that \nthere was some special gift that he wanted, and, if you came \nwith it in your hands, you were sure of his favor. Among \nthe Greeks and Romans this was a very common thought. \nThe gods were angry, and would send a pestilence, a dise^e, \ndrought, disaster of some kind, would neglect their people, \nwould give them, in the time of war, into the hands of their \nenemies. Why? Because their altars had been neglected, \nbecause the usually furnished gifts had not been brought. \nNow and again people entered, or supposed they entered, \ninto a divine compact. They would say to Jupiter or Juno, \nor Venus or Mars, I will bring so many animals, I will bring \nsuch gifts to your altar on condition that you give me so \nmuch help in this expedition which I am about to undertake. \n\n\nThis is not confined to Paganism. It was a Hebrew idea. \nJesus found the people coming to the temple and bringing \ntheir gifts without any regard to the condition of their hearts \nor the impassable barriers which they had set up between \nthemselves and the divine. Coming with their gifts, when \nthe altars were red and running with blood, they supposed \nthat God would become suddenly their friend, their helper, \ntheir light. What is the condition of Christendom to-day in \nalmost every part of the world concerning this ? It is taught \nfrom nine-tenths of the pulpits of Christendom today that \nGod is a Being who can be bought, who has been bought, \nwho must be bought : only, instead of thinking that we can \nbay him with bulls and goats, and turtle-doves and pigeons, \nmen hold that there must be an infinite price paid, even the \ndivine Man ; that this one sacrifice offered up once for all \nobviates the necessity of any more. The principle is utterly \nunchanged, God purchasable, his favor purchasable, no mercy, \nno help, no love, unless the price has been paid. \n\nThis was a very good time, as I shall note, for Jesus to \nhave announced this principle if he had ever heard of it or \nif he had believed it. \n\nThen people have supposed that God was to be found at \ncertain epochs in the world's history. There are certain \nperiods of human life that are looked upon as divine periods. \nGod was on earth, and was dealing with man in a peculiarly \nreligious manner ; and, by conning over the records of these \nperiods, studying them, we are supposed to gfet close to God, \nclose to God's ways. \n\nGod has been supposed to manifest himself in a miraculous \nand unusual way. This is another way by which people have \nsought to find God. If they could be touched, directed, \nlifted, thrilled, by some magic of miracle, they supposed they \nwere to be in the presence of the Divine. Do you remember \nthe beautiful lesson which the poet Lowell teaches us in that \nregard? In one of his parables he represents a man as \nstarting out in search of God, going to a supposed holy hill \nand praying that some sign might be granted him that God \n\n\n8 \n\nwas there and he was accepted ; and, as he watched, a rock \nbreaks open at his feet and a beautiful little flower suddenly \nappears and unfolds its fragrance, and, as he plucks it, the \nthought sweeps over him that precisely this same flower his \nonly little child had brought to him as he started on his \npilgrimage, plucked by his very doorway. People are per- \npetually seeking for God in the unusual, and forgetting \nthat it is just in the usual that we shall find him. I was \nasked the other night, during the eclipse, as I sat hour after \nhour watching it, How is it that astronomers know so cer- \ntainly the hour and the second, even the fragment of a sec- \nond, when an eclipse is to begin and when it is to end? \nThey know precisely because of the perfect order of the \nuniverse. Should there be the variation of the fraction of a \nminute, every intelligent man on earth would stand appalled; \nfor it would mean that the Almighty Energy was losing some- \nhow its grip on the eternal order of the world. It is just in \nthis common, in this perfect order, in the usual, and not in \nthe unusual that we are to look for the perfection of the \nDivine. \n\nThen men have looked for God in intellectual statements \nof supposed truths called creeds. I am sometimes accused \nof making too much of the head, of the intellectual side of \nreligion and of life. I am glad therefore of this opportunity \nto say that a man conceivably might map out the universe \nwith perfect accuracy in every part, and might be able to \ngive us a complete and true statement of the nature and \ncharacter of God from eternity to eternity, without its bring- \ning him a fraction of a step nearer to the Divine. In those \nepochs in the world's history when men have been fighting \nover creeds, over intellectual statements, they have generally \nbeen much further from God than when they have forgotten \nthem, and have been absorbed in some humble kind of \nhuman service. \n\nTake the picture of that great convention, that ecumen- \nical council, that settled the dispute between Arius and \nAthanasius. Anything but divine were the means used. \n\n\nanything but divine were the passions aroused. Never was \nthere a bitterer, meaner, more contemptible, less human \npolitical convention than was that meeting when these sup- \nposed servants of God wrangled over their definitions of \nthe divine nature. And, no matter which side had won, no \nvictory won by unhuman and undivine passions and forces \ncan ever bring us nearer to God. \n\nSo there are books, literatures, that they tell us are full of \nGod. By reading, by saturating ourselves with these, we can \nfind him. But, if you have studied carefully the history of \nthe world, you will have noted that men will go through \nreligious literatures, and generally come out having dis- \ncovered that which they were seeking. If they have gone \ninto the study with a purpose, if they have had a theory, if \nthey have been attempting to establish such and such ideas \nas true, they have generally found weapons enough with \nwhich to carry on their warfare, and have forgotten the divine \nspirit that they were supposed to be looking for. None of \nthese ways can with any certainty bring us to God, because \nnone of these paths can be trusted to take us to his seat. \n\nHow, then ? Turn with me to see what it is that Jesus has \nto say on this subject. He says. If thou art bringing thy \npft to the altar, and there rememberest that thy brother \nhath aught against thee, leave there thy gift before the altar, \nand go thy way, first be reconciled to thy brother, and then \ncome and offer thy gift. Then you may find the way open. \nThe way, then, is not through the gift, but through the \nbrother. \n\nHere let me note in passing a point at which I hinted a \nmoment ago. If Jesus had heard anything of his being the \nsecond person in the trinity, of his being the Almighty God, \nof its being necessary for people to believe it and to know \nit in order to find God ; if he had ever heard anything about \nthe doctrine of the atonement, of blood, of the way to pur- \nchase God's favor, and the bridging over the separation \nbetween man and God ; if he had ever heard anything about \nthe necessity for believing a certain number of articles, of \n\n\nlO \n\nbelieving a certain statement of truth, — if, I say, he had ever \nheard of any of these things as being so necessary that they \nare indispensable, as we are taught, and as it has been \ntaught throughout Christendom for the last nineteen hun- \ndred years nearly, — here would have been a very good place \nfor him to have said something about it. But no hint, nor \nword. In fact, there is no hint, no word anywhere, that \nJesus ever said anything about any of these things. When- \never he has put himself on record at all, it has been as \nhe has put himself on record here. In the 25th of Matthew, \nas he represents the great judgment scene, there is not one \nsingle thing even suggested as the reason for going to the \nright hand or the left but human service. But here, if you \nwish to find God, stop and think, Have any of your brethren \nanything against you? I wish you to notice the searching \nquality of these words. He does not say, If you have any- \nthing against any of your brethren, but Has any man or any \nwoman on earth anything against you ? He does not go so \nfar as to say that there must necessarily be good ground for \nit, either. Has anybody on earth anything against you? \nSuppose it is a misconstruction, suppose it is a misconcep- \ntion of something you have said or done : no matter. Jesus \nsays there is an obstacle. Now, see how just and true and \nfar-reaching these words are. Here is a brother or a sister \nwho finds something that you have done, or that they think you \nhave done or said, making them bitter, making them hard, \nturning them away from the divine love, making a hindrance, \na stumbling-block, something that keeps thehi from finding \nGod, something that keeps them from being in loving rela- \ntion with their fellow-men, and you can remove it. Suppose \nthere is no real ground, suppose you have not done anything, \nas you say, to justify it, why, then, all the easier can you \nremove the difficulty. Do not stand on your pride, and \nsay, I have said nothing, I have done nothing ; and he may \ndo as he pleases or help himself, if he can. That is human ; \nbut it is not the divine way, not the tender, the true, the \nloving way. Here is a soul in difficulty, a soul in a snare, a \n\n\nII \n\nsoul stumbling, a soul not finding the path. Go help that \nsoul, or dare not corae into the presence of God. So long as \nthere is a plain, simple, human, helpful duty undone, you can- \nnot find the way to God, — so long as there is a barrier like \nthat between you and him. \n\nMuch more is this true, when you turn it round, and say, \nHere is a man that I have injured, here is somebody that I \nhave wronged ; and you do not take the trouble to put it \nright. If there is a man or woman that you have wronged, \nnot only in this world, but in any other world, until you set \nit right so far as you are able, there will be an obstacle be- \ntween you and perfect communion with the Divine that no \nprayers, no sacraments, no blood, no creeds, no Bible read- \ning, no church attendance, no religious duty of any kind can \ntouch. It is you that must touch it : God himself cannot get \nthat difficulty out of the way. \n\nBut suppose you are free in all these directions. Sup- \npose you can say, I have never knowingly injured man, \nwoman, or child. Suppose you can say, I do not know of \nany case where a person is bitter or unhappy or whose life \nis shadowed even by what thty think I have said or done. \nSuppose you can say that. Is that enough? I think not. \nHere are men ignorant, here are men vicious, here are men \ncriminal, here are women struggling against legal and social \nobstacles that stand in the way of their earning an honest \nliving. Here are people beating their lives out against \nsocial barriers which they did not erect. Here are indus- \ntrial snarls and tangles that hinder the growth of true and \nnoble manhood on the part of those who are enmeshed \nin them, — men and women fighting every waking hour for \na bit of bread, with no leisure, no time to cultivate anything \nhigher than the animal in them. Here are people in the \ntoils of all sorts of temptations and evils, and you suppose \nyou are negatively blameless ! Is there nothing yet remain- \ning for you to do as pertaining to the relation in which you \nstand to your brother ? Is there nothing in the words nobUsse \nobliged Is there nothing that calls for help, for thought. \n\n\n12 \n\nfor kindliness, for generosity, for sympathy, on your part? \nThe only way by which coming to God is to be brought \nabout here on earth is by each one of us doing all we can to \nhelp to lift, to lighten, the lives of others. And this is the \nhighest and divinest obligation resting on every human soul. \nTry to be just ; try to be generous ; learn to be sympathetic \ntowards the weaknesses and frailties and follies of the world. \nThat is, try to understand men and women, so that you can \ndo something to help, to lift, to lead them into better ways. \nNow, suppose a man does this. Suppose a man loses him- \nself in this effort to make the world better. Suppose he \ngives money and time, and thought and leisure and effort, so \nfar as he is able. Suppose he counts himself as one of the \nhelpers of his race. Do you see where he is going ? Do you \nnot see how he is illustrating the teaching of Jesus ? Sup- \npose a man becomes like Jesus, — merciful, loving, helpful \ntowards his fellow-men, — do you not see that he is becoming \ndivine ? That is what being divine means. As you read the \nhistory of the world, is it not apparent that Jesus touched \nthe deepest things ? When asked what it is to be great, he \nanswered that it was becoming a servant. Read the names \non the roll of human greatness, those who are really great, \nand they are only those men who have somehow served \ntheir fellows, who have made the world better, lighter, \nsweeter, easier. Greatness is not getting : it is not domi- \nnation. Jesus said. The princes of the Gentiles exercise lord- \nship over them, but it shall not be so among you. In so far \nas those who have called themselves Christian popes and \nfathers have exercised lordship, by just so much have they \ngone away from God. Those that most completely have \nforgotten selfishness and domination in serving their fel- \nlows, by so much have they approached the presence and \nthe likeness of the Divine. You remember that often-told \nanecdote of Wilberforce. When some petty, zealous, soul- \nsaver came to him while he was engaged in his great phil- \nanthropic work, and asked if his soul was saved, he stopped \na moment in amazement, half-puzzled to find what the foolish \n\n\n13 \n\nman was talking about, and then said, '* Why, I have been \nso busy about these other matters, trying to help my fellow- \nmen, that really I had forgotten whether I had any soul.\" \nThat is the way to save your soul ; and, if you have any kind \nof soul, which can be saved in any other way, it is not worth \nthe trouble. \n\nDeveloping your character, then, along these lines of sym- \npathy and help of your fellow-men is the only way to God, \nbecause that is the way of God-likeness and the only way \nby which you can approach to man or God. The only way by \nwhich you can approach a soul is along the pathway of sym- \npathy, of likeness. \n\nLet me hint an illustration. We think, perhaps, that we \nwould have liked to have been in London in the days of the \nold Globe Theatre, when Shakspere and his friends were \nwalking the streets like common men. Do you suppose that \nthe men that walked the streets with him, perhaps called him \n\"Will\" in their familiarity, got very near to Shakspere? \nProbably there was not one soul in London at that time, — \nunless he had the sympathetic power of entering into the \nsecrets of his life and responding to his thoughts and emo- \ndons, — though he may have brushed his clothes as he \npassed him on the street every day, who got a thousandth \npan as near to Shakspere as Mr. Rolfe of Cambridge \ncomes every day. Here is sympathy of soul, a student that \nenters into his life, comes close to his spirit, feels his very \nheart throb, responds to the very movements of the mole- \ncules of his brain: he knows Shakspere. \n\nThey tell the story of that clod, that peasant, in Stratford \non Avon, whom some visitor asked about Shakspere. \n\" Shakspere was born here ? \" the visitor asked. ** I believe \nhe was,\" he answered. He was asked if he knew the house. \nHe said he had known of such a house being pointed out. \nHe was asked if he knew what Shakspere had written. He \nreplied that he did not know much about it, but he had \nheard he had written some very famous thing, perhaps it \nmight be the Prayer Book or the Bible. Because the same \n\n\n14 \n\nsun shone on him, because he breathed the same air, trod \nthe same soil, where Shakspere lived and breathed, did that \nbring him near to Shakspere ? It is sympathy, and sympa- \nthy only, that brings us near to another spirit and another \nmind. Take the hoards of sight-seers that every year tread \nthe galleries of Europe because it is the proper thing to do. \nHow near do they get to Rubens, to the great painters, to \nthe great sculptors, to the great artists of the world ? There \nare leagues of impassable obstacles between them, though \nthey may be staring upon their faces. There is nothing in \nthese masterpieces that can find in them anything to touch. \nTravelling through space, reading books about them, and \nwalking over places made sacred and hallowed by their feet \ndo not bring them into their presence. \n\nThis principle applies in religion precisely as it applies \nanywhere else. The loving, tender, tolerant, faithful, patient, \npersistent service of man brings us to God precisely because \nit develops the justice, the love, the tenderness, the sympa- \nthy, the patience, the toleration, the helpfulness, which are \ndivine. \n\nFather, we are glad that we can be sure of finding Thee \nalong the common pathways of life ; that we need not leave \nour present duty, the simplest service, in search of Thee, but \nthat Thou art all round us if only we will listen, if only we \ncan see, if only we become sensitive and can feel. So let \nus seek for Thee by utter faithfulness, in trying to serve our \nfellow-men, and we will thank Thee now and always. Amen. \n\n\nUnitarian Catechism \n\n\nBY \n\nM. J. SAVAGE \n\nWITH AN INTRODUCTION BY E. A. HORTON \n\nPrice, Paper, per Copy, , . , , 20 cents. \n\n\" Doi ^7.50 \n\nOotb, \" Copy, . . , . )o cents. \n\n\" \" Doi $2.^0 \n\nINTRODUCriON. \n\nThe preface by Mr. Savage gives the reasons, clearly and concisely, why a book \nlike this is needed. It answers a great demand, and it will supply a serious deficiency. \nHaving had the privilege of reading the contents very thorougnly, I gladly record my \nsatisfaction in the character of the work, my hope of its wide acceptance and use. my \naopredatioQ of the author's motives in preparing it. The questions and answers allow \nat sapplenienting, of individual handling, of personal direction. It is not a hard-and- \nfast production. There is a large liberty of detail, explanation, and unfolding. The \ndoctnnal positions are in accord with rational religion and liberal Christianity, the criti- \ncal jndgments are based on modem scholarship, and the great aim throughout is to assist \nan inquirer or pupil to a positive, permanent faith. If any one finds comments and \ncriticisms which at first sight seem needless, let it be remembered that a Unitarian cat- \nechism must give reasons, point out errors, and trace causes : it cannot simply dogma- \ntize. I am sure that in the true use of this book great gains will come to our Sunday- \nschools, to searchers after truth, to our cause. \n\nEdward A. Horton. \n\nAUTHOR'S PREFACE. \n\nThis little Catechism has grown out of the needs of my own work. Fathers and \nmothers have said to me, *' Our children are constantly asking us questions that we can- \nnot answer.\" Perfectly natural ! Their reading and study have not been such as to \nmake them familiar with the results of critical scholarship. The great modem revolu- \ntion of thought is bewildering This is an attempt to make the path of ascertained tmth \na little plainer. \n\nThis is the call for help in the home. Besides this, a similar call has come from \nthe Sonday-achooL Multitudes of teachers have little time to ransack libraries and \nstudy laige woiks. This is an attempt, then, to help them, by putting in their hands, in \nbrief compass, the principal things believed by Unitarians concerning the greatest \nsubject \n\nThe Kst of reference books that follows the questions and answers will enable \nthose who wish to do so to go more deeply into the topics suggested. \n\nIt is believed that this Catechism will be found adaptea to any grade of scholars \nabove the in^nt class, provided the teacher has some skill in the matter of interpretation. \n\nGEO. H. BLLIS, Publisher, 141 Franklin St., Boston, Mass. \n\n\nPubllBhed weekly. Price $1.60 a year, or 6 cents slnfirle copy \n\n\nUNITY PULPIT \n\nBOSTON \n\n\nSERMONS OF M. J. SAVAGE \n\n\nVol. 13 DECEMBER 4, 1891 No. 8 \n\n\nTfllNGS THAT HINDER THANKFULNESS \n\n\nC \n\nBOSTON \n\n\nGEORGE H. ELLIS, 141 FRANKLIN STREET \n189X \n\n\nEmieni at the Fott-ofiee, BotUm, Matt., at teamtUUut mail matter \n\n\nOFC '. 169' \n\n\nMr. Savage's Books. \n\n\nReligions Reconstruction, lamo Si.oo \n\nThese Degenerate Dmys. Snull i6no. Flexible 50 \n\nMy Creed. lamo 1.00 \n\nPoems. i6mo. Full gilt With portrait i.jo \n\nLight on the Qond. i6ino. Full gilt i.tj \n\nSocial Problems, lamo i.oo \n\nThe Religious Life, ismo i.oo \n\nBeUef in God. ismo i.oo \n\nBeliefs about Man. ismo i.oo \n\nBeliefs about the Bible. i.oo \n\nThe Modem Sphinx. lamo i.oo \n\nThe Morals of Erolution. lamo 1.00 \n\nTalks about Jesus. lamo i.oo \n\nMan, Woman and Child, ismo 1.00 \n\nChristianity the Science of Manhood, lamo i.oo \n\nThe Religion of ETolution. ismo i.fo \n\nLife Questions. i6mo 1 .00 \n\nBluffton: A Stonr of To-day. ismo i.jo \n\nHelps for Dailv Living. lamo i.oo \n\nThe Signs of tne Times. lamo i.oo \n\nLife, tamo i.oo \n\nThe Minister's Hand-book. For Christenings, Weddings, \n\nand Funerals. Cloth 75 \n\nSacred Sonn for Public Worship. A Hymn and Tune \n\nBook. Sdited by M. J. Savage and Howard M. Dow. \n\nCloth 1.00 \n\nLeather 1.50 \n\nUnitarian Catechism. With an Introduction by E. A. Horton. \n\nPnce, Paper, per copy, .... ao cents. Perdos., i.jo \n\n*• Cloth, *« .... 30 •• \" a.$o \n\n\nMr. Savage's weeklv sermons are regularlv printed in pamphlet \nform in \" Unity Pulpit.\" Subscription price, xor the season, ^i.jo; \nsinKie copies, 5 cents. \n\nGEO. H. BLLIS, PtMuktr, \n\n141 FrofMim St., B^sUn, Mats. \n\n\nTHINGS THAT HINDER THANKFULNESS/ \n\n\nMy subject this morning is some things fhat hinder thank- \nfulness. As my text, I have chosen the words from the \nseventeenth chapter of the Gospel according to Luke, seven- \nteenth and eighteenth verses: \"And Jesus answering said, \nWere there not ten cleansed ? but where are the nine ? \nThere are not found that returned to give glory to God, save \nthis stranger.\" \n\nI was talking the other day with an intimate friend whose \nheart is weighed down by the heaviest loss that can inno- \ncently come to any true heart. He had lost the one great \nyearlong love of his life. I expected to find him utterly \ncrushed and broken ; and, indeed, there was no lack of sor- \nrow. But he said to me, \"I am astonished at myself to \nfind the moods of exaltation into which I am lifted in this \nhour of my great trouble.\" And he said further, \" I am sim- \nply overwhelmed with a sense of gratitude, when I think how \nrich a possession I have had for so many long, long years.\" \nAnd then he went on to add that it seemed to him that none \nof us could appreciate the things which we really have, quite \nunderstand how rich we are, quite comprehend how well off, \nuntil some such stroke comes, and we are alone in the midst \nof the wreck, our life rich only in memories. It seemed to \nme, then, that perhaps I could hardly do better this morning \nthan to try to suggest some of the things that stand in the \nway of the expression of this gratitude to which he alluded. \n\nNote the expression of surprise in the words that I have \ntaken as my text. I need not go into any critical discussion \n\n* Phonognphically reported. \n\n\nbefore this audience as to the story of the cleansing of the \nten lepers. Let us lake it as a story, no matter how much \nof it be historical and how much not. The story stands \nthat, as Jesus was on one of his journeys through the coun- \ntry, he saw ten lepers standing afar off, because the custom, \nthe law was such that they were not allowed to come nigh \nto any one who was not a leper, lest the contagious disease \nshould be spread. He saw these ten lepers standing afar \noff ; and, having heard of the wonderful works that he had \nperformed, they er8onal direction. It is not a hard-and- \nfast production. There is a large liberty of detail, explanation, and unfoldinz. The \ndoctrinal positions are in accord with rational religion and liberal Christianity, tne criti- \ncal jud^ents are based on modem scholarship, and the great aim throughout is to assist \nan in(iuirer or pupil to a positive, permanent faith. It any one finds comments and \ncriticisms whicn at first sight seem needless, let it be remembered that a Unitarian cat- \nechism must give reasons, point out errors, and trace causes : it cannot simply dogma- \ntize. I am sure that in the true use of this book great gains will come to our Sunday- \nschools, to searchers after truth, to our cause. \n\nEdward A. Horton. \n\nAUTHOR'S PREFACE. \n\nThis little Catechism hu grown out of the needs of my own work. Fathers and \nmothers have said to me, \" Our children are constantlv asking us questions that we can- \nnot answer.\" Perfectlv natural I Their reading ana study have not been such as to \nmake them familiar with the results of critical scholarship. The great modern revolu- \ntion of thought is bewildering. This is an attempt to make the path of ascertained truth \na little plainer. \n\nThis is the call for help in the home. Besides this, a similar call has come from \nthe Suaday-echool. Multitudes of teachers have little time to ransack libraries and \nstndv laige works. This is an attempt, then, to help them, by putting in their hands, in \nbrief compass, the principal things believed by Unitarians concerning the greatest \nsab)ect. \n\nThe Hst of reference books that follows the questions and answers will enable \nthose who wish to do so to go more deeply into the topics suggested. \n\nIt is believed that this Catechism will be found adapted to any grade of scholars \nabove the infant class, provided the teacher has some skill m the matter of interpretation. \n\nQBO. H. BLLIS. Publisher, 141 Pranklin St., Boston, Mass. \n\n\nPnbllfllied weekly. Price $1.60 a year, or 6 cents single copy \n\n\nUNITY PULPIT \n\nBOSTON \n\n\nSERMONS OF M. J. SAVAGE \n\n\nVol. 13 DECEMBER 25, 1891 No. 11 \n\n\n'THE NATURALNESS OF THE SDPERNATDRAL \n\n\nBOSTON \n\nGEORGE H. ELLIS, 141 FRANKLIN STREET \n\n1891 \n\n\ntnterm t tht FoM-ofictt Boston^ Mau.f a$ second^latM maU matter \n\n\nMr. Savage's Books. \n\n\nReligioos Reconstruction, ismo $t.oo \n\nThese Degenermte Days. Small 161DO. Flexible 90 \n\nMy Creed, iimo 1.00 \n\nPoems. i6mo. Fall gilt With portrait 1.50 \n\nLight on the Qoud. i6mo. FollgUt i.s} \n\nSocial Froblems. xamo 1.00 \n\nThe Relinoos Life, ismo 1.00 \n\nBehef in God. lamo 1.00 \n\nBetieb about Man. ismo 1.00 \n\nBeliefs about the Bible i.oo \n\nThe Modem Sphinx, xamo 1.00 \n\nThe Morals of Evolution, ismo 1.00 \n\nTalks about Jesus, ismo 1.00 \n\nMan, Woman and Child, ismo 1.00 \n\nChristianity the Sdenoe of Manhood, ismo x.oo \n\nThe Religion of Evolution, ismo i.fo \n\nLife Questions. i6mo 1.00 \n\nBluffton: A Stonr of To-day. ismo 1.50 \n\nHelps for Dailv Living, ismo 1.00 \n\nThe Signs of tne Times, ismo i.oo \n\nLife, ismo x.oo \n\nHie Minister's Hand-book. For Christenings, Weddings, \n\nand Funerals. Cloth 75 \n\nSacred Sonn for Public Worriiip. A Hymn and. Tune \n\nBook. Edited by M. J. Savage and Howard M. Dow. \n\nCloth I.oo \n\nLeather 1.50 \n\nUnitarian Catechism. With an Introduction by E. A. Horton. \n\nPnoe, Paper, per copy, .... so cents. Perdos., i.co \n\n*• Cloth, •« .... so \" \" S.50 \n\n\nMr. Savage's weeklv sermons are regularly printed in pamphlet \nform in \" Unity Pulpit.\" Subacription price, for the season, f 1.90; \nsingle copies, 5 cents. \n\nGEO. H, ELLIS, PtMisksr, \n\nMil Frmnklm St,, B^sUn, Mmii. \n\n\nThe Naturalness of the Supernatural.* \n\n\nIf there is any person in my congregation who thinks that \nI have sufficiently explained any of these perplexities already, \nsuch a one ought to see my correspondence or listen to the \nconversation of those who call on me. Only yesterday one \ncame in deep trouble of thought and heart and soul, seek- \ning the way and yet hindered by just such obstructions as I \npropose to try to. remove this morning. \n\nA question comes up like this : Here is this whole cycle of \nwonder-stories connected with the birth, the life, and the \ndeath of the Nazarene ; the appearance of angels, the annun- \nciation before his birth, the appearance of the star in the \nheavens to the shepherds and the wise men ; the supernat- \nural knowledge on the part of the wise men that this child \nwas to be born, the virgin birth, the miraculous revelation of \nthe intention of Herod, the flight into Egypt, the massacre \nof the innocents ; then the miracles attending his life and his \ndeath, the bursting open of the tombs and the appearance of \nthe dead in the streets of Jerusalem at the time of his resur- \nrection, his descent into the underworld, the resurrection of \nhis body after it had been dead three days, the ascent of his \nphysical body through the air into heaven — here is this \nwhole cycle of stories of marvel, of wonder, that cuts across \nwhat we have come to think of as the laws of nature, the \nlaws of the possible at every turn. \n\nIf we look over the ancient world, we find that these won- \nder-stories are only like dozens and scores and hundreds of \nothers that were commonly believed in that far-off time. \n\nNow, as the question was put to me yesterday in this con- \n\n* Phonographically reported. \n\n\nversation : \" If these stories are not true, how does it happen \nthat thousands and thousands of intelligent, educated people \nstill believe them ? If they are not true, why does not every- \nbody feel and think about them as you do ? \" A perfectly \nnatural and perfectly fair question. \n\nOr put it another way. If they are not true, were the \nwriters unusually ignorant ? Were they not as intelligent as \nthe ordinary people of that time ? If they are not true, must \nwe hold that the writers were untruthful ? \n\nI wish, therefore, in order to assist those minds in which \nthese are still difficulties, to remove the misconceptions \nconnected with questions like these. I wish to show this \nmorning the naturalness of the supernatural. Paradox- \nical as that statement may seem, I think it will convey to you \nmy meaning. I wish, in other words, to show that stories \nlike these grew in the ancient world as a pine to-day grows \nin Maine or a palm in Florida. They grew out of the men- \ntal conditions, out of the conception of the universe, out of \nsuch knowledge as they had of natural forces, such ideas as \nthey had concerning the government of the world. \n\nRight here we are face to face with our prime difficulty. \nIt is immensely difficult for a man to get out of his peculiar \nhabits of thought, to get into the brain and behind the eyes \nof another man and look at the world as he looks at it. \nTake it in so simple and commonplace a matter as this. An \nAmerican goes abroad. He visits France or Germany or \nItaly ; and he finds himself in a state of wonder all the time \nat the customs, habits, manners, of the people round him. \nHe wonders how people can live as they do, — how they can \neat and drink, and rise and sleep, and go to their customary \naffairs in such a strange fashion, forgetting completely that \nhe is just as much a wonder to them. Even in regard to this \ncommonplace matter, you see how difficult it is to put our- \nselves in the place of another, and to look at the world from \nhis point of view. How much more difficult for us to leave \nbehind us the present century and live for a while in the \nworld of two or three thousand years ago I And yet we need \n\n\n5 \n\nto try to do this, in order that we may comprehend the answer \nto the question I have raised. \n\nOne other point. The majority of the ages during which \nthe world has existed is entirely against our way of looking \nat things. Our conception of the universe, of natural law, \nnatural forces, natural order, the Copernican theory of sun, \nmoon, earth, stars, — all these are very modern ; while all \nthrough the ancient world, for one or two hundred thousand \nyears, there has existed a state of mind out of which these \nbeliefs grew as naturally as the grass grows in spring. \n\nCome with me while I suggest to you two or three ideas \nthat were held in different parts of the earth at different \ntimes. Then I will try to show to you where the change \ncomes in and how. \n\nOne of the ancient peoples believed that, in some myste- \nrious fashion, a miraculous divine egg came into existence. \nI need not stop to trace its genesis. This egg one of the \ngods cuts in two. The upper half becomes the sky, the yolk \nof the egg becomes the earth, and the all-surrounding ocean \nis created out of the clear part, — the white of the egg, as we \ncall it. This is one of the creation stories that lies at the \nbasis of one of the great world religions. \n\nThere are others still more grotesque. The old Babylo- \nnians spoke of there having come into existence a goddess \nwho was the mother of all created things up to that time. \nThe god Belus cuts her in two, and of half of her creates the \nheaven, and of the other half the earth. Then he cuts off his \nown head, which is a simple thing, of course, for a god to \ndo ; and out of the blood which mingles with the sand on \nthe earth he creates men, and this is the explanation of the \nfact that they are part human, part divine. \n\nEven during the Middle Ages what kind of a universe did \npeople live in ? You will find a picture of the universe, as it \nwas believed to exist by one philosopher, with the earth in \nthe centre. The earth was in the centre, anchored, fastened \nin the water, the ocean flowing around it on all sides. It \nhas roots running clear down, no one knows how far, but to \n\n\nthe bottom of everything supposable. Plato supposed that \nthe earth must be a cube. Why ? Not because he had in- \nvestigated it, but because the cube was a perfect figure ; and, \naccording to his philosophy, the earth ought to be perfect, \nand therefore was a cube. During the Middle Ages you \nfind an attempt to explain the sunrise and the sunset. The \nearth was perfectly flat. They could not think of the sun \nmoving around the earth, or of the earth turning itself over \nand so presenting one side to the sun after the other. They \nhad nothing to suggest this to them. It was therefore per- \nfectly natural that the childhood thought of the world led \npeople to believe that the earth was a flat plane. How \ncould they have thought otherwise? They invented the \nstory that towards the north was a mountain, and that at \nnight the sun disappeared behind that mountain and it be- \ncame dark ; and when he came again, and it was light, then \nit was morning. Conceptions of the earth like this or simi- \nlar to this were generally held until — how long ago do you \nsuppose ? — only two or three hundred years ago. \n\nKepler was a contemporary of Shakspere. Kepler knew \nnothing of any force of gravity. He knew nothing of any \npower by which the star, the sun, the moon, could be kept in \ntheir orbits. So, even so late as his death in 1630, he be- \nlieved that an angel resided in each one of the planets and \nstars, guiding it, controlling its movements, a sort of sub- \ndeity. You see that is hardly a step away from the old no- \ntions of the Greeks of the sun being a golden chariot that \nthe god drives across the sky ; and this as late as the time of \nShakspere. It was not until the time of Newton that the \nhuman mind discovered any adequate natural explanation of \nthe movements of the heavenly bodies. So you can see \nhow very modern our modern age is. You can see how \nnatural it was for people in those old times to hold their \ncrude and childish thoughts concerning all sorts of natu- \nral happenings and events. They had no other way of ex- \nplaining them. They were not ignorant in the ordinary \nsense of the word. They were not possessors of infantile \n\n\nbrains. Only they had not made the discoveries that have \ncome to us in the modern world, revealing all this marvel- \nlous scene of law and order. \n\nFor, note, the whole thing turned on the word I have just \nused. We have come at last to discover that the universe is \na scene of order, of law. The ancient world had no thought \nof anything of the kind. Whatever happened was supposed \nto be the direct and wilful work of some being, some god, \nsome angel, some devil, some invisible spirit. They had no \nconceptions of any natural order. Do you not, then, see \nthey had no standard of probability? There was nothing \nimprobable to a man in that state of mind in any thing's \nhappening. If a man should come to us to-day, and say \nthat he had seen a stream flowing down from a mountain, \nand that at its mouth the water rose higher than the source, \nwe should know it was not true. Such a statement never \ntroubled a man who knew nothing about the pressure of the \natmosphere or that natural law which makes us perfectly \ncertain that water cannot rise higher than its source. \n\nSo the people of the antique world dwelt in the midst of \nconditions where there was no order, no law, therefore no \nstandard of probability; and under those conditions, of \ncourse, it would be impossible that there should have arisen \nany critical condition of mind. For, if a person who is ac- \ncustomed to tell the truth should go to another person in \nthat sort of a world and say that such and such a thing had \nhappened in such a place, he would have in his mind no \nstandards of probability, no idea of natural law, that would \nmake him pause before accepting the statement. But we \nare living in a universe pervaded by this conception of law \nand order. When any one tells us of something that has \nhappened that counteracts, that cuts across, this ideal of law \nand order, we must tell him to his face that it is utterly im- \npossible ; and, if we are wise, we certainly do not believe \nhim. We demand at any rate an amount of proof such as it \nwould have never occurred to a man in the ancient world to \nask for. \n\n\n8 \n\nNow, I want to talk with you about the supernatural, \nmythical stories of the ancient world in general before I \ncome to touch upon that cycle of stories that we find con- \nnected with the birth, life, and death of Jesus. I want you \nto see how these misunderstandings spring up. How did \npeople come to believe in Hercules ? How did they come \nto believe in the myths of sun and moon and stream and \ncloud and lightning ? Were the people unreasonable ? Were \nthey not fairly intelligent ? How, then, did they come to be- \nlieve such stories ? I want you to see how perfectly natural \nit was for these stories to spring up concerning other things \nin other parts of the world. Then you can more easily see \nhow they could spring up concerning so new and wonderful \na thing as a new religion. \n\nTake some specimens of myths, and see where they come \nfrom. At the outset, note that an abstract statement, an ab- \nstract idea, is a very modern thing. Language, in the begin- \nning, is always figurative. Everything is personified. Every- \nthing is either \" he ** or \" she \" : there is no \" it.\" Every \nword that is now embalmed, cold enough and dead enough, \nin the dictionary, was once alive. The policeman still \" ap- \nprehends \" the prisoner, reaches out his hand and grasps \nhim. We still \"apprehend\" an idea. We talk about our \nmind as though it had arms and hands and fingers, as though \nit could grasp things. It was a figure of speech in the be- \nginning. All such words were alive in this way, and every- \nthing was personified. Then, as the people told themselves \nstories of the sunrise and the sunset, of the dawn, the even- \ning, the moon, the stars, you see how soon the universe was \nall alive with these personifications of the activities of nature. \n\nLet me give you one example. Among the people away \nat the north, where the winters were long and cold, the \nmoon was spoken of as a man and the sun as a woman. \nThat is true in some languages still. The moon had fallen \nin love with the sun without knowing that the sun was his \nsister. When he declared his love, the sun made an attempt \nto find out who he was. So she took a brand from the fire \n\n\nand blackened her hand, and in the dark rubbed it on the \nface of the moon ; and then, when they got out into the light, \nshe discovered that it was her own brother, and she fled \nfrom him in horror and dismay. And the moon pursued her \nuntil they came to the edge of the earth, when they both \nleaped off and were turned into the sun and moon ; and ever \nsince the sun and moon have been pursuing each other in \nthe heavens. And that is the reason the moon has the dark \nspot on her face that we call \" the man in the moon.\" You \nsee how out of these personifications a story could spring \nup naturally in the childlike state of mind that we find in the \nancient world. \n\nYou are familiar with that beautiful fairy story that de- \nscribes the prince who is in love with a princess, — how he \nvisits her at night, and how the princess begs the prince to \nlet her see his face, and he warns her that she must not, be- \ncause the moment he is seen he must disappear. But at \nlast, when he is asleep, she lights a candle and looks upon \nhim ; and he flees at once, and she never discovers him again. \nHere is only the ancient world's personified, poetic way of \ntelling the story of the dawn and the sun. The moment the \nsun looks upon the dawn the dawn flees away, to be discov- \nered again only in the evening twilight. For in the beauti- \nful old story they find each other at the time of death, and \nare reconciled once more. \n\nThere is an old story that says originally there were twice \nas many stars as now. The stars were spoken of as the chil- \ndren of the moon ; but the sun, it was said, had an equal num- \nber of children. By and by they agreed to destroy all their \nchildren. The sun kept his compact ; but the moon hid hers \naway in the dark, and only brings them out when the sun is \nout of sight. The moment he appears she hides them again. \nSo you will find a thousand of these beautiful stories that \nhave sprung up from the fact that people in this personified, \npoetical way tell themselves over and over the stories of \nnatural happenings. \n\nYou are familiar with the fact that the story of William \n\n\nlO \n\nTell is only one of those nature stories. Il is the sun, it is \nApollo, who never misses his mark, whose arrows always go \nstraight at that at which they are aimed. William Tell is \nonly a sun myth, thoroughly unhistoric. There is not a trace \nof him in the history of Switzerland for one or two hundred \nyears after the time he was supposed to have lived there. \nHere is one way in which these mythical stories grow, — \nout of the tendencies of language to personify the forces \nand activities of nature. \n\nThen there is another way that myths grow, — as the at- \ntempted rational explanation of observed facts. When an \nearthquake occurred in the ancient world, how was it ex- \nplained ? The wisest of them had not the slightest inkling \nof the real cause. They explained it then by saying that the \nelephants which stood under the earth and held it up were \nshifting their position, or that one of the pillars under the \nearth was giving way, or that something of the sort was oc- \ncurring, just as the ancient Greeks explained the volcanic \neruption of mountains by saying that a giant was chained in \ntorment underneath the mountain, and, when he got tired, he \nshifted his position or turned over, and so produced these \ndisastrous results. You will find, then, in every direction, \nthat these myths sprang up as attempted rational explana- \ntions of natural facts. \n\nAnd you need not go far away to get into the world of \nmyth. One of the old Puritan divines carried the matter so \nfar as to explain the revolution of the earth on its axis by \nsupposing that hell was in the middle of the earth, and that \nthe souls of the damned in their struggles and frantic desire \nto escape attempted to climb up out of hell, and so produced \nthe revolution of the earth, precisely as a squirrel turns the \nwheel in its cage. And this was said not as a jest, but in \nactual earnest. Such was the state of opinion within two or \nthree hundred years. Shall we wonder, then, at the stories \nof the old world ? \n\nAgain, people observe some natural fact, and a story \nsprings up to account for it. How could the ancient world \n\n\nII \n\nexplain an eclipse? The moon was supposed to be very \nsmall and only a little way off. I asked a friend the other \nday how large the moon seemed to him. He said about as \nlarge as a plate. The apparent size depends entirely upon \nthe eye of the observer : it seems much larger to me. When \none of the wise men of old ventured to say that it might be \nas large as one of the Grecian promontories, he was laughed \nat for his folly. It could not seem strange, then, to any one \nin the ancient world to suppose that some immense creature \nmight be swallowing the moon at the time of the eclipse. \nThey had no possible way of explaining it as we know about \nit to-day. And our knowledge is very modern ; and we can- \nnot pride ourselves on it, as you and I had nothing to do \nwith the discovery. It has been given to us by somebody \nelse. \n\nSo take the story of Lot's wife. How naturally it might \ngrow up ! Here is this solid pillar discovered in a place \nwhere tradition said a town once stood that a lake had over- \nflowed. How natural a thing at a time when people be- \nlieved in the transformation of animals and birds into \npersons, or persons into animal forms, to trace a resem- \nblance to a person in this pillar ! The whole story of Lot's \nwife could very easily have sprung up as an attempt to ex- \nplain the discovery of this pillar. \n\nSo, when they discovered the tower of Belus in the plain \nof Shinar, what more natural than that the story should \nspring up that the people who built it thought they were \ngoing to climb up to heaven, and that God came down and \nput their plan to confusion by making it impossible for them \nto understand each other I \n\nSome years ago, when I was in the north of Ireland, I \nvisited the Giants' Causeway. A whole cycle of stories \nhas grown up about that. What is it ? Here is a wonderful \nformation of rock starting from the cliff and running out into \nthe water. It looks like a man-constructed pavement of six- \nsided blocks, as smooth as a paved street. It looks as \nthough this highway was a road running down into the depths \n\n\n12 \n\nbelow. It is easy to see how the story might have sprung up \nof a giant who had tried to build a pathway across the \nchannel. \n\nThen one more point. There has been a tendency in all \nages for all sorts of wonderful stories to spring up. There \nare plenty of cases in the modern world. Had I time, I \ncould refer to all sorts of things that have been attributed to \nsome one popular favorite that people might spread abroad \nhis power. When a person is lifted up in the reverence and \nadmiration of his fellows, any wonderful thing concerning \nhim is easily believed, and exaltation naturally follows. I \nhave known very respectable myths to grow up in Boston \neven since I have been here. We are not far enough away \nto be safe from these things. \n\nLet us now turn and glance at two or three stories concern- \ning Jesus, and see what may probably have been their origin. \nTake the appearance of the star. In the ancient world there \nwas hardly a man of any eminence whose birth was not sup- \nposed to be supernaturally foretold. He was quite a small \nman, indeed, who was not honored by a distinction like that. \nThe appearance of a meteor, a comet, any wandering body in \nthe heavens, was explained, naturally and necessarily, as hav- \ning some definite and distinct purpose. It always foretold \nthe birth or death of some noble personage or the happening \nof some great event. There was a tendency in the gospel \nwriters to show that the prophecies have been fulfilled. \nThey find a prophecy that a star shall rise, and of course it \nwould appear to the shepherds. Shepherds were the first \nastronomers. They were the only ones likely to pass their \ntime watching the heavens at night. \n\nThen take the three wise men. The moment it came to \nbe believed that Jesus was the Messiah, the king of all the \nearth, it was the most natural thing that the three divisions \nof the ancient world, Europe, Asia, and Africa, should have \nrepresentative men coming to do honor at his cradle. If \nthey had known anything about America, there would have \nbeen four wise men instead of three. This sort of story \ngrows up in the most natural way. \n\n\n13 \n\nTake the virgin birth. There is not the slightest rational \nground in the modern world for supposing any such thing \never to have occurred ; but in the ancient world there were \nno physiological difficulties in the minds of the people, and \nit was the most natural way to honor these great men. \nThere were sixteen, perhaps twenty, great characters of the \nold world concerning whom it was said that they were bom \nof virgins. It was supposed to be a way of exalting them, \nmaking the father a god, and so elevating them above the \nrange of common humanity. \n\nThen there was another reason. There was supposed to be \nsomething evil, something wicked, in the flesh, in all natural \npassions and desires ; and so it was supposed to be a way of \nexalting a person as to his personal purity to say that he \ncame into the world in this exceptional manner. The Old \nTestament is misconstrued and misunderstood in this matter. \nThe words which are supposed to mean a virgin are only a \n•* young woman \" ; and she may have been married any num- \nber of times, as far as the text is concerned. \n\nTake the descent into Hades. Where should Jesus have \nbeen during the three days that he was dead ? He had nat- \nurally gone down into the underworld, they would argue. \nAnd, as his salvation was to extend to all on earth and in all \nthe ages, it was natural that he should preach and proclaim his \ngospel to those spirits in prison who had died before he came. \nDante even said that he discovered the place in the Inferno \nwhere the stones in the wall are still dislocated and broken \nwhere he burst through and escaped from this underworld, \ncarrying with him a great crowd of captives that he delivered \nand took with him to Paradise, into which he then entered. \n\nAs to the resurrection, there was no physiological difficulty \nabout a divine being raising a dead body and making it live \nagain. None of our modern difficulties existed at that time. \n\nAnd as to the vision, the apparition that was seen. If Jesus \nhad been seen by some one of his disciples, it would have \nbeen quite enough to account for the story starting and run- \nning like wildfire over all the ancient world. They believed \n\n\n14 \n\nthat he was not dead, that he was alive and had been seen; \nThis was enough ; and their faith sprang up, and made them \nmighty to look death in the face without a fear. \n\nI refer to these things, that you may see how naturally \nthese things would grow up. There is no difficulty about be- \nlieving them. It does not mean that the writers told stories \nwhich they did not believe or that they were intellectually \ninferior to their fellows. It means only that in the antique \nworld there were no difficulties concerning an acceptance of \nstories like these. \n\nOne other point, perhaps hardly less important than either \nof the others. Why do these old beliefs continue so long in \nthis modern world ? The scientific spirit is abroad : the con- \nception of law and order in the universe is generally held by \neverybody who thinks. Why, then, do not these stories die \nout and disappear more rapidly ? I believe that it will not \nbe a great many generations before all this cycle of myth \nand wonder will be turned into beautiful poetry, and be the \nshining garment that shall clothe and cover and yet reveal \nthe beautiful spiritual and divine truths ; that it will not be \nlong before no intelligent person will think of treating these \nthings as historic verities. Why do they continue so long, \nthen } The reason is perfectly adequate. \n\nIn the first place, it takes a very long time for a new idea \nto sink down from the lofty height of the brain of the dis- \ncoverer of it, and filter down to the thoughts and minds and \nhabits of thinking of the common people, to become a com- \nmon possession. Take a scientific truth. It was two hun- \ndred years after the discovery of the Copernican theory, per- \nhaps more, before people became quite at home in the new \nconstitution of the universe ; and we are all the time now \nusing words that imply the old theory. We have not cut \nentirely clear from the old conception yet. There is one \nthing that we are apt to forget : habits of thought, traditions, \ntendencies, types of feeling, become incorporated in the very \nfibre and substance of the brain. Why do you remember \nthings that happened when you were a child better than \n\n\nIS \n\nthings that happen now? I will tell you. The older, lower \nparts of the brain — the first acquisitions of the brain — re- \nmain longest. The higher, those that you may have built up \nby your experience, — the last, newest acquisitions, — are the \nleast stable. They are worn away and disappear first. You \nremember, when Falstaff was dying, he \" babbled of green \nfields.\" He had not probably thought of green fields for \nforty years ; but, when he dies, he is a child again, he has \ngone back to his childhood. So you will find people who \nhave been born in some one of the old strait, hard, cruel re- \nligious faiths are not troubled by them in their manhood ; \nbut, when they get old and weak, these last and highest ac- \nquisitions of the brain have been worn away, and they find \nthat the brain chambers are haunted by the spectres of these \nold ideas of their childhood. \n\nI had a pitiable, pathetic instance of this not a great while \nago. An old man of seventy came to see me. He was born \nin the strictest doctrines of Calvinism, but through his mid- \ndle life he had not believed in them. \" I thought I was \nemancipated and free,\" he said; ''but, now that I am old and \nweak, I find myself haunted with these old fears until it \nseems to me that they will drive me insane.\" And he came \nclear from the Western part of the State on purpose to see \nme, and find out if I could help him to escape from these \nfears. \n\nDo you not see, then, in the light of this, how it is that old \ntraditions, old ways of doing, old types of feeling, keep their \ngrip on us ? The world is almost ruled by the dead, — dead \nideas, dead traditions, dead beliefs and ways of thinking. \nOnly gradually and slowly does it emancipate itself and get \nfree from these inherited ideas of the past. \n\nThen another reason. These beliefs, these ideas, are \nbound up from childhood with the most sacred religious \nhopes and trusts. People are made to believe, they are \ntaught necessarily, that, if they lose their hold on any of \nthese external things, that the essence, the soul, of religion \nitself is going to disappear. They are told that they cannot \n\n\ni6 \n\nbelieve in God or have hope in the world unless they be- \nlieve literally all that is written in the Bible. They grow up \nwith these ideas till they become part of their life. Then, \nnot only that, they are taught another thing. They are \ntaught that those things are not only intimately associated \nwith that which is vital in religion, but that they are the very \nfoundation and corner-stone of morality. They are told : If \nyou doubt anything that is written in the Bible, then there is \nno reason on earth for conduct, for character, for doing \nright. The foundations of everything are giving way. \n\nAnother thing. This person that called upon me yester- \nday said, \" Why do educated people still hold these ideas ? '* \nI want to say a word about that. Are they educated ? Is a \nman educated so long as he dares not look all over the world \nwith perfect freedom under the impulse to discover simply \nthat which is true? Is he educated so long as there is a \nwhole department of human thought and human life that \nhe dares not question ? How are people educated ? Little \nboys are brought up in families with daily and nightly drill as \nto certain things which they must believe as necessary to re- \nligion. They are brought up as I was, — at the age of twelve \nor thirteen frightened into the church, taught that t^ey \nmust go there in order to be saved. They are allowed to go \nto no other church or hear anything else preached. Then \nthey go out into life ; and, if they keep their interest in re- \nligion at all, they read their denominational newspaper, \ntheir denominational review, attend their own church and \nsocial meetings. They are taught that it is wicked to doubt \nand investigate the ideas held by anybody else. To me it \nis no wonder that they continue where they are ; but the \nwonder is that now and then a brave, daring spirit escapes. \nI do not care how much people know about astronomy, \nabout geography, about mathematics, how much they read \nthe daily papers. If they have not freedom, they are not \neducated, they are not even intelligent, for the simple \nreason that there is a part of the world, and that the larger \npart, that they dare not face, dare not look at, dare not \n\n\n17 \n\nquestion. Born in the nineteenth, they are living in the six- \nteenth century, because the tradition of the sixteenth cen- \ntury is overshadowing them, and still dominating their heart \nand brain. \n\nFather, we thank Thee for the light that has shined into \nthis modem world, and that we have dared to lift our eyes \nand greet its coming. We thank Thee for the new thought \nof the universe, of God, of man, of Jesus, of destiny, that has \ncome to us, and for the light and life and cheer and hope \nthat it brings. Let us live worthily of these great truths, \nand do what we can to emancipate the world. Amen. \n\n\nUnitarian Catechism \n\nBY \n\nM. J. SAVAGE \n\nWITH AN INTRODUCTION BY E. A. HORTON \n\n\nPrice, Paper, per Copy, . . . \n\n. 20 cents \n\n\" Doi. . . . \n\n. $I.^O \n\n\" Ooth, \" Copy, . . . \n\n. 50 cents. \n\n\" \" Doi. . . . \n\n. $2.^0 \n\nINTRODUCTION. \n\nThe preface by Mr. Savage gives the reasons, clearly and concisely, why a book \nlike this is needed. It answers a great demand, and it will supply a serious deficiency. \nHaving had the privilege of reading the contents very thoroughly, I gladly record my \nsatisfaction in the character of the work, my hope of its wide acceptance and use. my \nappreciation of the author's motives in preparing it. The questions and answers allow \nof supplementing, of individual handling, of personal direction. It is not a hard-and- \nfast production. There is a large liberty of detail, explanation, and unfolding. The \ndoctrinal positions are in accord with rational religion and liberal Christianity, tne criti- \ncal judgments are based on modem scholarship, and the great aim throughout is to assist \nan mquirer or pupil to a positive, permanent faith. If any one finds comments and \ncriticisms whicn at first sight seem needless, let it be remembered that a Uniurian cat- \nechism must ^ve reasons, point out errors, and trace causes : it cannot simply dogma- \ntise. I am sure that in thie true use of this book great gains will come to our Sunday- \nsdiools, to searchers after truth, to our cause. \n\nEdward A. Horton. \n\nAUTHOR'S PREFACE. \n\nThis little Catechism has grown out of the needs of my own work. Fathers and \nmothers have said to me, *' Our children are constantly asking us questions that we can- \nnot answer.\" Perfectly lutural I Their reading and study nave not been such as to \nmake them familiar with the results of critical scholarship. The great modem revolu- \ntion of thought is bewildering. This is an attempt to make the path of ascertained truth \na little plainer. \n\nThis is the call for help in the home. Besides this, a similar call has come from \nthe Sunday-school. Multitudes of teachers have little time to ransack libraries and \nMXxkdj large works. This is an attempt, then, to help them, by putting in their hands, in \nbrief compass, the principal things believed by uniurians concerning the greatest \n•object. \n\nThe list of reference books that follows the questions and answers will enable \nthose who wish to do so to go more deeply into the topics suggested. \n\nIt la believed that this Catechism will be found adaptea to any grade of scholars \nabove the infant class, provided the teacher has some skill m the matter of interpretation. \n\nQEO. H. ELLIS. Publisher, 141 Pnnklia St., Boston, Mass. \n\n\nPublished weekly. Price $1.60 a year, or 6 cents sinirle copy \n\n\nUNITY PULPIT \n\nBOSTON \n\n\nSERMONS OF M. J. SAVAGE \n\n\nVol. 13 JANUARY i, 1892 No. 12 \n\n\nJESUS FOUND AGAIN \n\n\nr \nBOSTON \n\nGbOKGt H. ELLIS, 141 FRANKLIN STREET \n\n1891 \n\nRnitrtd at the Po9i-otfle€, Boston, Uau., at ieeond