_THE REVIVAL._
Gentle reader, you shall have the benefit of a hint if you cannot
patiently abide moralizing. By a whisper in your ear we warn you that
if you are only interested in the simple narrative, and regard all
serious themes as heavy, and are unwilling to exercise twenty minutes
consecutive thought upon vital topics, you will find it advantageous to
turn a few leaves and pass this chapter.
The mellow, golden days of October had come; the air was growing
crisp, the sun’s rays were losing their intensity, and nature, in her
outward expressions, was becoming less exuberant and aggressive. The
forests, gorgeous in color and ardent in tone, were blazing out with
that vehemence which seems to be a final and supreme effort before
impending desolation. The stored-up sunshine of a whole summer comes
to the surface, and gilds with rich hues the foliage, which before
had absorbed it. The vitalizing and expanding life, which for months
coursed through the veins and arteries of tree, flower, and grasses,
was becoming sluggish, and sombreness and grayness were creeping over
the face of nature.
The Bonbrights were again settled in their stately residence on
Commonwealth Avenue. The engagement of Lord Percival and Rosamond
had been formally announced, and had furnished the latest sensation
in fashionable circles. In response to the solicitation of Rosamond,
seconded by the earnest invitation of her parents, the noble lord
remained as a guest of the family until he departed westward, where he
wished to make a more extended exploration of the country.
Burton and Tapley left the mountains shortly before the departure of
the Bonbrights, and on a bright Saturday afternoon they arrived at the
home of the former, where they were received with a warm greeting.
The air of quiet conservatism which prevailed in this out-of-the-way
New Hampshire village was unchanged. Within the limits of Edward’s
recollection, there had been scarcely a single house added or
demolished, and the changing seasons alone were responsible for any
variation in appearance.
In such a community the quiet current of human existence flows on, year
by year, broken only by some insignificant eddy or ripple unnoticed
by the great world outside. The arrival of the two-horse stage at the
little post-office was the daily episode which most stirred the pulse
of the place. Here came only a light sprinkling of the deluge of daily
and weekly literature with which the centres of population were flooded.
Life with such a quiet environment often becomes a matter of petty
routine. But when, as is rarely the case, its shoal waters are
agitated, the commotion is relatively important. If it be a “tempest in
a teapot,” the storm will be violent in proportion to the size of the
pot.
It happened that such a rare local agitation was at its height when the
two friends arrived. It was a “revival;” and its intensity was such
that, in one form or another, every person in the community was touched
by it. It was brought about through the labors of a professional
“evangelist,” a young man by the name of Lamphier, who, for several
evenings previous, had held services in the village meeting-house.
Mr. Johnson, the pastor, being discouraged at the “dry-rot” and
spiritual stagnation which prevailed, had secured the assistance of Mr.
Lamphier.
The meetings and their influence, for the time, became the one
absorbing topic. Among the members of the little community some were
struggling with great problems; others were torn with conflicting
emotions; a few were in great distress; some were rejoicing; a number
were self-satisfied, or perhaps merely curious; and still others were
cavilling and ridiculing. It was a commentary upon the many-sidedness
of human nature, that a single cause could produce such a variety of
phenomena.
Mrs. Burton had kept a brief record in her diary of the topics which
Mr. Lamphier had elaborated.
The outline recorded by her was as follows:--
_First Evening._--Man’s fall in Adam as the result of eating the
forbidden fruit. The guilt of the whole race involved in that
transaction. Inherited guilt, also supplemented by personal guilt.
The total depravity of man. Evil a terrible reality. God’s righteous
anger towards sinners.
_Second Evening._--Utter inability for good a race condition. The
“plan of salvation.” A scheme by which the elect will be rescued.
The plan formulated in the councils of the Godhead. The Son offers
to come and die in order that through His suffering the Father’s
righteous anger and justice may be satisfied. The plan adopted and
carried out in behalf of those who are “called.”
_Third Evening._--The ransom paid by Christ, the means through which
God becomes reconciled. Expiation as made through the shedding of
Christ’s blood. His sufferings were infinite, in order to atone for
the infinite amount of sin in the world. By a belief in Christ we may
escape the consequences of sin.
_Fourth Evening._--Heaven: It is a place of reward for those who, by
substitution, receive the benefit of Christ’s purchase. Such have had
the penalty for sin remitted. The pleasure of the heavenly condition
will be so great, and the Divine justice will be so manifest, that we
shall feel the punishment of those who are lost, even if our friends,
to be for the glory of God. The occupation of heaven will consist in
praising God. The location of heaven unrevealed, but may be in some
distant star.
_Fifth Evening._--Hell: The place of retribution. That locality,
which is the final destination of the untold millions of heathendom,
and of a large part of the population of Christendom. Although its
punishment may not consist of material fire and brimstone, yet it
is of such a nature that this figure is used as most fitting to
convey an adequate idea of its character. It is a condition which is
hopeless and endless.
_Sixth Evening._--Satan: The omnipresent, malignant Evil One. A
“roaring lion” going about “seeking whom he may devour.” An intensely
malicious personality, inferior only to God in power, with whom he
wages an unceasing warfare. The condition of the world indicates
that, for the present, Satan is the victor.
_Seventh Evening._--The Bible: The literal inspired revelation of
God to man. Through the medium of saintly men, who were instruments
in the hands of God, His will was communicated to mankind. It is the
only rule of life, and the soundness of all moral and religious
principles must be tested by its teachings. Human systems and creeds
must be founded upon proof-texts.
_Eighth Evening._--The Church: The representative of God on earth.
The divinely organized body of believers. The organization which is
authorized to interpret Scripture and to formulate doctrine. The
visible body of Christ, into which it is the duty of all to come as
soon as they have received forgiveness for sin, and are rooted in
sound doctrine.
_Ninth Evening._--The Supernaturalism of Religion: As men by nature
are vile and sinful, only by a supernatural act on the part of God
can they be redeemed and made meet for the Kingdom of Heaven. That
which is supernatural belongs to a realm which is separate and
distinct from that which is natural.
Such was an outline of the topics which had been fully and graphically
elaborated by Mr. Lamphier. The tenth and closing sermon of the series
was to be delivered on the evening of the day upon which Edward and
his friend arrived. Notice had been given that it would consist of a
general summing-up of the series.
The sermons had been delivered with a positiveness, austerity, and
solemnity which are almost unknown in larger communities.
Every evening, after the close of the service, a party of sceptics of
various ages and conditions gathered at the village store and discussed
the meetings. A few of them who had attended the service usually gave
an outline of the sermon. Among the number were several who previously
had been respectful, though rather indifferent towards religious
influences. There was a mysterious reactionary influence in the air,
for several suddenly avowed themselves as atheists and materialists. A
few had become defiant, and full of ridicule toward the injudicious but
well-meant efforts put forth in the stern presentation of their duty.
On the other hand, many of the more sensitive children and youth were
suffering in various degrees from a kind of terrorism. Edward found
that his young sisters had hardly slept soundly since the graphic
delineations of Satan and hell, and learned of several other families
whose experience was similar. Mrs. Burton would have kept her children
at home during the later services, but for the fact that the statement
had been made that it was a solemn duty to attend upon the “means of
grace,” so that any apparent “neglect of duty” made them even more
miserable at home than at the meeting-house. Any who were missing were
also noted and inquired after. An indefinable fear seemed to pervade
the very atmosphere of the village. Even among the young converts,
there was a visible expression of constraint and sadness, which was
abnormal in youthful nature. Mr. Johnson and Mr. Lamphier made a
systematic round of visits; but their funereal faces and formal manner
caused the children to hide from them when it was practicable. In
general, the duty of “getting religion” came to them in the light of
a disagreeable necessity. It appeared more like shadow than sunshine;
more wintry than summer-like in its nature. To the young, it seemed to
be well adapted to the aged and dying; but for _them_ it was like a
black pall.
As Edward Burton learned of the condition of affairs in his native
village, a vision of his own youthful experience flashed before him. He
took his young sisters, one upon each knee, and soon, under the spell
of his loving influence, the morbidness faded from their minds. Mrs.
Burton reproached herself for having forgotten lessons of the past,
under the influence of recent conditions.
The closing sermon by Mr. Lamphier drew an audience which filled the
house to repletion, and Burton and Tapley were present. They came in
before the service began, and were recognized by Mr. Johnson, who came
forward and greeted them.
Mr. Lamphier made a most sincere and earnest appeal. His manner was
very grave, and he felt a profound responsibility resting upon him.
The text upon which his sermon was based was the last clause of Matthew
iii. 7: “O generation of vipers, who hath warned you to flee from the
wrath to come?”
After a brief review of the preceding sermons, in which he traced
the peculiar relation of each to the “plan of salvation,” he made a
strong appeal to his hearers to accept the terms offered that night.
He enforced the thought that it might prove the last opportunity for
some to escape from the wrath of God, which rests upon all sinners. In
closing, he said,--
“As God’s ambassador, I have plainly set your duty before you. Christ
has made expiation for your sins by His sufferings and death, and you
have nothing to do but to believe on Him. Paul, in his epistle to
the Hebrews, says that ‘God is a consuming fire.’ Think of that, my
friends, and do not longer scorn His offers of pardon. The judgment
day comes on apace, when those who reject the proffers of grace now
held out will hear the final summons,--‘Depart from me, ye cursed, into
everlasting fire prepared for the devil and his angels.’ ‘And the smoke
of their torment ascendeth up for ever and ever.’”
As these closing words fell from his lips, there were audible
sighs and groans, and an intensity of feeling which was near the
bursting-point. Some of the younger and more sensitive souls almost
saw the judgment scene before them, and themselves upon the left hand.
They were conscious that they did not and could not love God with
their whole heart, which was their plain duty. God had been pictured
to them in such a way that He seemed both unreasonable and cruel,
and therefore, though intensely anxious to love Him, they found it
impossible. They were told that that feeling was the “natural” mind,
which must be stifled.
Modern fair Biblical interpretation and criticism had but a slight
hold upon the thought of this little community. The literal meaning of
proof-texts was quoted as a finality, which it was sinful to question.
Mr. Lamphier, in interpreting the endless wealth of scriptural poetry,
history, tradition, Oriental allegory, imagery and hyperbole, made
everything bend to his hard rules, and left no choice between a literal
acceptance on the one hand, and a sceptical rejection on the other.
The letter of the text was worshipped, while the spirit, which could
make men free and lead them into all truth, was largely unrecognized.
The preaching in this little meeting-house was the strongest force in
the village, and they who questioned its conclusions were rated as
unbelieving and irreligious.
As Mr. Lamphier took his seat, the audience were spellbound, but their
faces showed that the spell was one of awe and fear. Before the closing
hymn, Mr. Johnson arose and said: “We have with us to-night Mr. Edward
Burton, who is known to many of you, and we would be glad to hear
from him.” Prompted by a mingled sense of magnanimity and politeness,
Mr. Johnson made this call upon Edward, instinctively feeling the
desirability of giving the closing meeting a more happy turn. The
invitation was quite unexpected to Edward, but, after a momentary
hesitation, he responded.
“My dear friends and neighbors,” he remarked in a quiet and pleasant
manner, “it gives me much pleasure again to meet you, gathered as you
are in this place, with which are connected so many of my childhood
associations. I did not expect to address you, but will briefly improve
the opportunity given me. Christian character is formed from the
consideration of various motives. May I suggest a few thoughts bearing
upon some other phases of truth than those which have been urged upon
you this evening? Time will not permit a logical presentation, but a
few fundamental principles may be outlined and left for you to fill out
and apply.
“We need, first, to have right conceptions of God. God is love.
Paul says that ‘our God is a consuming fire.’ ‘Our God’ means the
Christian’s God. If ‘God is love,’ and also a ‘consuming fire,’
then Love is a ‘consuming fire.’ Love will consume, not souls, but
evil, sin, malice, selfishness, and unrighteousness. God is not a
vindictive judge, but our Spiritual Father, and we are His children
and made in His image. He is good, and also omnipresent. He therefore
is omnipresent good. Where, then, is there room for evil? There is no
place for it, as a God-created power, or entity, so that it only can
exist as a condition. Goodness and righteousness are positive entities,
for they are of God. He made all that _was_ made, and pronounced it
‘very good.’ If He did not create evil, the only vitality it has comes
from what we give it. We are not creators in any real sense, therefore
evil is a negation. It becomes real to us in proportion to our loss of
spiritual consciousness as children of God. The lower self is alive
to material things, therefore has lost its life to those verities
which are spiritual. The ‘carnal’ or false self must be cast out, and
man must regain his spiritual heritage. Religion is a life, not a
creed, system, plan, or sacrament. It is not effeminate, austere, or
disagreeable, but normal, manly, joyful, noble. It is a recognition
of and compliance with spiritual law, as adapted to man’s nature, and
all observed law is beneficent. Punishment is inherent in sin, and is
self-inflicted. When sin is destroyed, punishment ceases. Punishment is
not arbitrary or vindictive, but corrective and disciplinary. Christ
came, not to placate an angry God, but to impart His life to us.
“The word ‘blood,’ as used in the Scriptures, signifies the _life_,
and not the death. It has been literalized to express suffering,
purchase, expiation. Blood is the symbol of what is _inmost_ in the
person, his essential and intrinsic quality. We speak of blood as
referring to lineage, race, or family. To be saved by the blood of
Christ is to be saved by possessing the same type of inward character
and life. Salvation is the quality of Christ, living and incarnated
in man. Christ’s triumph over death was an object-lesson, to show us
the nothingness of material law as compared with supernal or spiritual
law. He is not merely the historic Jesus of eighteen hundred years ago,
but He is the ever-living One, waiting to come in and fill our life
with His own. He is that light ‘which lighteth every man that cometh
into the world.’ He is the ever-present spirit, and the ‘still small
voice,’ which waits for our recognition. In the dust and fog of the
material world, we hide ourselves from Him. Even sacraments, rituals,
and creeds are often like veils which intercept our spiritual sight of
Him, face to face. He is the Father of our spirits, and we are spirits
and not bodies, even on the present plane. The everlasting love, which
expressed itself externally through Jesus, is the spiritual ‘law of
gravitation.’ The Bible makes no mention of expiation or substitution,
but such terms are plentiful in scholastic systems. Through the blood
or the _life_ of Christ, the pulse of humanity feels the heart-throb of
God.
“We act, think, and live upon the material plane, and then expect,
through a supernatural process, to be artificially lifted, by a plan or
purchase, into a localized heaven in the world to come.
‘Heaven is character, not reward.’
“In the sublime words of Channing,--‘Goodness cherished now is Eternal
Life already entered on.’ ‘Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also
reap.’ If he starve his soul in this world, he will go lean into the
next, and no miracle will force a heavenly character upon him. He must
already have, at least, its rudiments within.
“My dear friends, ‘the fruit of the spirit is love, joy, peace,
long-suffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, meekness,
temperance.’ Christianity is not a system; it is not an outside thing
to be obtained, but it is Christ in us. His life, or blood, which may
become ours, is joyful, lovable, normal, wholesome. That soul is normal
which is rounded out and symmetrical, and which lives the divine life,
and not the life of the lower self. Let love flow out to God and man,
for love is the fulfilling of the law. Do not misunderstand me, and
fancy that I advocate merely a humanitarian religion. That which is
Divine is the All-Embracing, and the humanizing element forms but the
subordinate part of it.
‘But in Him we touch
The ultimate symbol of Humanity,
Humanity that touches the Divine
By some fine link intangible to us.’
“If we hunger and thirst after God, He will fill us. Demand brings
supply. Open your hearts, and He will flow in, and the communion will
be sweet. In the beautiful words of Whittier,--
‘With smile of trust and folded hands,
The passive soul in waiting stands
To feel, as flowers the sun and dew,
The One true life its own renew.’”
During Burton’s address, there had been a breathless stillness, and the
attention of the entire audience was fixed upon him. The closing hymn
followed immediately after. Many drawn, anxious faces had relaxed, and
every one breathed more freely. Mr. Johnson was nonplussed, and Mr.
Lamphier distressed. As soon as the audience was dismissed, several
persons gathered around Edward to grasp his hand and give him a welcome.
“That is pure gospel, and what I like,” said one; another exclaimed, “I
never knew how beautiful religion was before! It always has seemed like
a hard belief.”
An old man slowly made his way to Burton and said: “If that is
Christianity it is reasonable and desirable, and I want it.”
A farmer’s wife, with an angular, anxious face, drew near, and
feelingly said, “I thought I must be all tore up with conviction before
I ever could find peace, but the conviction didn’t come, and I couldn’t
find peace. As you describe it, the way seems plain and easy.”
A young girl modestly drew near and quietly observed, “I want to thank
you, Mr. Burton, for the help you have given me. I have always dreaded
to think of God, because, from what I have heard, He seemed cruel and
hard. As you have described Him, He is really lovable, and I shall
enjoy thinking of Him.”
The earnest expression of the senior deacon as he extended his hand
deeply touched Burton. “You talk pretty well, Edward,” said the good
man, “but I’m afraid you make religion a little too easy. The Bible
says that we must ‘work out our salvation with fear and trembling.’”
Three or four of the infidels who belonged to the coterie that nightly
gathered at the store to mimic and ridicule were present. They
approached, and one of them said, “We have been sceptical in regard
to the kind of religion we have heard here, but what you have said is
common-sense, and a religion that agrees with common-sense we respect.”
At length Mr. Johnson came up.
“Edward, you said some very pleasant things, but I feel that your view
of the Atonement is unsound. The human heart is naturally rebellious
against God, and that fact must not be overlooked. I thank you for your
well-meant remarks, even though I cannot indorse all you said.”
Mr. Johnson then introduced Mr. Lamphier, who remarked with an air of
shocked seriousness,--
“Mr. Burton, I fear that you have made a mistake, for you have taken
away the solemnity of the meeting. You no doubt have good intentions,
but my wide experience as an evangelist proves to me that such lax
doctrines as you express do not arouse people. If souls are to be saved
they must be startled from their sense of satisfaction and security,
and then, peradventure, they will flee from the wrath to come. We
should be as ‘wise as serpents and harmless as doves,’ Mr. Burton.”
Thus the series of meetings closed, and Mr. Lamphier’s labors came to
an end.
On the next day, which was the Sabbath, after the close of the morning
service, there was a general and spontaneous desire expressed to hear
more from Edward Burton. Could he not, with Mr. Johnson’s consent,
be induced to deliver some evening addresses during the week? That
sentiment was so strong that Mr. Johnson and the senior deacon
reluctantly yielded their assent, though with some misgivings. Burton
responded to the cordial invitation, only suggesting that his friend
and guest should share in the work, to which all gladly agreed. It
was settled that upon alternate evenings during the week they should
lecture upon various aspects of advanced, practical Christianity.
The little meeting-house was packed with attentive listeners every
evening. Mr. Johnson, catching the prevailing enthusiasm, rapidly grew
into sympathy with the lectures, and before the close of the week
warmly expressed his appreciation of what he called “new phases of old
truths.”
Space will not permit even an outline of the topics which were
discussed, but they may be barely enumerated as follows:--
_First Evening._--The Immanent God--the Ever-Present, All-Pervading
Spirit.
_Second Evening._--Love, the universal law--or the spiritual “law of
gravitation.”
_Third Evening._--The divine or spiritual man _vs._ the sensuous and
material or “carnal” man.
_Fourth Evening._--Inspiration--a reasonable and wholesome view, and
how it harmonizes difficulties.
_Fifth Evening._--Atonement is At-one-ment.
_Sixth Evening._--The unity and power of Truth, or the universality
of Law.
The interest which grew out of the lectures, warmed and stirred every
soul in the little community.
The great waves which sweep the ocean do not penetrate into circuitous
inlets and land-locked ponds, and so the surges of modern progressive
thought heretofore had hardly made a ripple in this out-of-the-way
village. Here the theology of Mr. Johnson had been the only theology;
his plan of salvation the only plan, and his yea and amen the finality.
It was this, or nothing. The pulse-throbs and life-currents of God
and humanity only reached them as modified by his idiosyncrasies and
scholastic beliefs.
With all there is to admire in the soundness and stern righteousness
of Puritanism, when it becomes isolated and unmodified, it savors
distinctly of proscription and intolerance. There are small popes
as well as a great Pope. Mr. Johnson had wielded the sceptre with
undisputed authority, within his assumed jurisdiction.
He was a good man.
Like thousands of other kind, noble men, he was better than the
_system_ to which he was bound. He was not merely himself, but was
the embodiment and logical result of man-made theological dogma. He
illustrated the Calvinistic and Puritanic spirit of the seventeenth
century as practically applied to the lives and characters of men.
Individuals distinctively are the result and outgrowth of institutions.
While Puritanism produced many stalwart, noble men, when unmodified it
rendered human life strained and abnormal. It was a tonic element, but
at the same time it was a phase in Christian evolution which needed
softening and refining.
Mr. Johnson’s character was dualistic. He was a kind father, good
husband, and obliging neighbor, and a very lovable man; but when
invested with the dignity, the sceptre, and the robes of the
Westminster Confession, dogmatized with Puritanic positiveness, he
ceased to be Mr. Johnson, and became an artificial character. Any
one whose way of salvation had not passed through the gateway of the
village meeting-house was in the “broad way.” Any one who could not
entirely accept Calvinistic theology was, at least, inclined to be
sceptical.
Mr. Johnson was a lovable soul, indeed none are ever otherwise. It is
only qualities which call for criticism.
The week’s services discovered to Mr. Johnson the loose joints in his
armor, and the contradictions of his system.
The religion radiated by the young men was so lovable that Mr.
Johnson’s heart got the better of his creed, and, before he was aware
of it, his duality was fading out. Everything around him had been
newly gilded, and hard and sharp lines which had oppressed him became
softened and easy.
The life of the little village was broadened and beautified. The
sceptics’ club melted away when they discovered that they had been
contending with a “man of straw.” People found out who were their
neighbors. The poor and infirm were “ministered unto” in unexpected
and mysterious ways. There was a thorough revival of the religion of
character, which before had been but latent. The spiritual eyes of many
were opened, so that they discovered not only their human brethren, but
their Heavenly Father. They awoke to the fact that He was lovable, and
now they pressed nearer to Him. A few slaves to the cup, also, were
released, and rejoiced in freedom.
The senior deacon was heard to remark,--“That’s the most curious
revival that I ever knew of, but it is mighty solid, and, after all, I
believe I kinder like that sort.”