In Prison, When the Early Saints

In prison, when the early saints

Wore despotism's chains,

'Twas Faith that silenced their complaints,

In  solacing their pains.

Not that they had no power to feel,

No sense of wrong, no tears,

But  God was near, their griefs to heal,

And dissipate their fears,

'Tis unbelief, that gives its smart,

Its anguish to the rod;

Grief has no terror for the heart,

That puts its trust in  God,

"Only  believe!"* and thou shalt know,

To  every ill resign'd,

Whatever strength may wield the blow,

It leaves no wound behind.

*Mark v. 36.

— American Cottage Life (1850).

Christ Still Claims His Right to be Heard

We have no controversy with much of that which is known in the history of human knowledge under the name of philosophy. The philosophers have had their time of affirmation; and undoubtedly they have said instructive things on a great variety of subjects. They have felt at liberty to speak with boldness on the topic [of religion]; and sometimes with a smile of incredulity and even of opposition on their lips, as if it were a thing impossible, that the peasant of Nazareth, the man who was crucified, could hold up a light in the presence of the world’s philosophic thought and culture. Nevertheless the child of the humble Judean mother made the attempt. We read that when he was only twelve years of age, the inspiration from the heavens was so strong upon him and his heart was so full, that he entered into this great controversy. And even then his understanding and answers were matters of astonishment. But the hand of the mother, who was chosen to bring him within the sphere of humanity, withdrew him from the contest. Her heart had prophetic intimations of the future; but the time had not yet come. He dwelt in Nazareth, and with his heart open to the influx of the truth, he “increased in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and man.” And when in the maturity of manhood he came again into the field, his opponents met him with all the appliances and aids of human learning and wisdom; but ignorant of that divine philosophy which is baptized from the heavens, and therefore greatly disordered and defeated in the argument, they stopped the discussion by nailing Him to the Cross. But there is something in the man of truth which can never die. He passed on. In the language of the Scriptures, he went up on high. And philosophy, not understanding the things which are seen by faith and not by sight, looked here and there but could not find Him.

The teacher of Nazareth, dead but living, no longer a child but clothed with heavenly manhood, and who teaches by means of inspirations and influences wrought in the great school of the human heart, still claims his right to be heard. He is still a teacher of the Absolute Religion.

— edited from Absolute Religion (1873), Chapter 1.

True Reason is God's Highest Thought

Not unfrequently the Christian says, as if conscious of his inability to stand firm in the great battle of thought, and willing to find the first refuge that presents itself, that the religion of Christ, standing on a basis peculiar to itself, may be regarded as above and beyond reason. I confess that I hesitate in the acceptance of such expressions. So far from this being the correct view, there is a sense undoubtedly, in which it may be affirmed without presumption, that there is nothing above reason; neither God nor the creatures of God; neither men nor angels; neither finite nor Infinite. If it be admitted that God exists, it is still true, that he is not available to us as an existence, and is not known to us as an existence, and his existence cannot be logically affirmed and accepted, except through the instrumentality of perception and reasoning. If indeed by reason be meant that sad semblance of reason, which by its own action is separated from, and is not enlightened and aided by contact with the everlasting truth; in other words, that form of reason or semblance of reason, which in being separated from the great Source and Guide of all our faculties is perverted by ignorance, prejudice, and passion, then the matter presents itself in another aspect, and is entitled to another answer. But reason in the true sense, reason in the greatness of its intuitional, as well as its relational and inductive movement, reason such as God is able to incarnate inspirationally in the thought and intellect of man, has nothing above it. True reason is God’s highest thought; it holds a position which it cannot change; it sustains an office which it cannot abnegate; and the whole universe is not only dependent upon it for its revelation as an object of knowledge, but in all its coming progress accepts its aid, and marches in harmony with it.

— Absolute Religion (1873), Chapter 1.

The Religion of Christ is the Absolute Religion

The religion of Christ, which is only another name for the principles involved in the teachings of Christ, is the Absolute Religion; because having incarnated itself in Christ and thus shown its divine beauty in the human form, it henceforth belongs to man, not perhaps in the temporary and changing incidents of his history, but to man in his essential and universal nature, and therefore is the religion of humanity. The religion of Christ is the Absolute Religion because, though it may be said in its personal applications to grow up and to put forth the buds and flowers of feeling, the rich and beautiful experiences of emotions and affections, it nevertheless has its root in the deepest thought, and is both grounded in, and harmonizes with, unchangeable intuitions. The religion of Christ is the Absolute Religion, though man is its object, and is also, in the exercise of his powers of perception and reasoning, the appointed and necessary instrument of its development, yet being founded in the nature and constitution of things, and thus being beyond measurements of time, it synchronizes with God himself in its origin and continuance, and goes step by step with the divine authority in the assertion of its universal empire.

— Absolute Religion (1873) Chapter 1.

The Strictness of the Law of Providence

We may, perhaps, deduce an illustration of the strictness of the law of Providence from the law of nature. We all know that if our action — that of the husbandman, for instance — does not conform to the law of physical nature, it has no reward, but is the occasion of loss. Accordingly, we never exhibit the folly of scattering our wheat and corn on the frozen clods of autumn and on the snowbanks of winter, because we know that it is entirely useless, and worse than useless, to anticipate, as we should thus do, the preparations of nature. Whatever we may do, we shall always find, if we would do it with any good results, that God must go first, and strike the first blow. Our business is, both in connection with the works of nature, and in morals and religion, to act concurrently, to follow him, and, without running before him, to strive to be co-workers with him. It is with this great practical religious principle in view, that the Saviour says, "Give not that which is holy to the dogs, neither cast ye your pearls before swine, lest they trample them under their feet, and turn again and rend you." It is this principle, also, which is the foundation of the important remark of the apostle in his epistle to the Romans, " Let not, then, your good be evil spoken of." [Rom. 14: 16.]

We return therefore, to the great truth, which we wish to be left deeply impressed upon the mind; namely, that we can neither do good nor evil, irrespective of the law of Providence, without incurring guilt, and without experiencing a painful retribution. And this retribution, although it may scarcely be noticed at first, and although it may be delayed for a long time, is as certain and irresistible, with the single exception of cases of timely repentance, as the existence of God himself.

Even the man who stands in the divine order, and is a co-worker with God, is not, in the present state of things, exempt from trouble. Perhaps it is for this very thing God has placed him where he is; namely, that sorrow, in its various forms, that rebuke, and evil-speaking, and loss of earthly goods, and other temporal evils, may come upon him, and, in the fire of their consuming contact, destroy the dross that still adheres to his soul. But standing, as he does, with God before him as his guide, and therefore in the way of God's appointment, he will in the end come off victorious. But, for him who stands out of the divine order, and who opposes the weak shield of human strength to God's irreversible arrangements, there is no help. The chariot wheels of the Almighty will pass over him and grind him to powder.

— A Treatise on Divine Union (1851) Part 6, Chapter 3.

Good Intentions Must Still Respect Providence

It  should never be forgotten, that a good motive, however kindly and highly it may be appreciated, does not constitute a right action in the strict sense of the term, unless the action can be spoken of and regarded as right in the circumstances actually existing. It is a very important principle, therefore, especially in its connection with the higher forms of religious experience, that we ought with care to watch over even our good desires, and to bring them under a strict regulation. Our good desires, our good intentions, will not save ourselves or others from evil, if we contemplate and carry into effect objects which are out of the divine order.

A monarch, for instance, in the largeness of his heart, proposes the immediate and entire liberation of his people, notwithstanding they are obviously unprepared for it. But in thus doing an act, which, under other circumstances, would be highly commendable, he only places in the nation's hand a sword to be plunged into its own vitals. His good intentions will not shield him from responsibility. Subjecting his benevolence to the dictates of deliberation and wisdom, he should have first made his gift, not to freedom, but to the preparation for freedom.

And these remarks will apply, not to one merely, but to all the purest and holiest affections of our nature. Such affections are always good and commendable in themselves; but in the manner and degree of their exercise, they are necessarily subjected to the law of time, place, and object. It is certainly commendable and right, at all times and under all circumstances, to entertain feelings of kindness and compassion for those who suffer. But it is not commendable and right, at all times and under all circumstances, to attempt to relieve that suffering. And the reason is, that God, in his wise providence, has seen fit to impose suffering. Suffering, therefore, has its own, its appropriate work to do. And mere human pity cannot interfere with these providential intentions, without committing great error, and without experiencing a retribution on itself.

— edited from A Treatise on Divine Union (1851) Part 6, Chapter 3.

Good Intentions Which Violate the Law of Providence

If the providence of God has brought together a rich and a poor man, under such circumstances that it becomes the duty of the rich man to aid the poor, and he refuses to do it, it is impossible for him, in any way, except by sincere repentance, to escape the penalty of his wrong-doing. He will ask, perhaps, why he was bound to support or aid the poor man more than another? The answer is, it was not necessary that all should confer their benevolence at the same time; and the law of Providence, operating in connection with the existing facts in the case, made its selection, and the lot fell upon him. The fact that Providence had given him a particular location, involved also the assignment of a particular duty. In refusing to perform that duty, he has exposed himself to a penalty. When or where it will come, he cannot foresee; but its terrible advent is inevitable in its appointed time.