Once upon a time, as the story goes, an aged minister was asked the reason why he abounded in expositions in preference to regular sermons. His reply was, because when he was persecuted in one text he could flee unto another. Swedenborgian preachers need no such excuse. According to their master, Scripture has a threefold sense—the celestial, the spiritual, and the literal or natural. In this Swedenborg was not original. He recognised a threefold sense in Scripture corresponding to the threefold nature of man—as body, soul, and spirit. This idea was undoubtedly suggested to him by the threefold division of mankind according to the Gnostic system. “The celestial sense,” writes the Rev. Mr. Clowes, “according to Baron Swedenborg, involves in it whatsoever relates to the Divine love, and whatsoever has a tendency to excite that love in the will and affections of the devout reader. The spiritual sense, again, involves in it whatsoever relates to the Divine wisdom, and whatsoever is communicative of that wisdom to the devout reader’s understanding and thought. And lastly, the natural or literal sense involves in it whatsoever relates to the expressions of the Divine love and wisdom, and is best adapted to convey those heavenly principles to the reader’s mind, and to impress them on his life.” According to this method, then, the Swedenborgian has a fulness and a liberty which, in the pulpit, should give him a power of amplification denied to those whose Biblical exegesis is of a more old-fashioned character. If, for instance, as Swedenborg says, the history of the Creation in Genesis means the rise of the most ancient church—if by Noah is meant the ancient church in general—if Shem typifies true internal worship, Ham corrupt internal worship, Japheth true external worship, and Canaan corrupt external worship—it seems to such as the writer the Swedenborgian preacher may do what he likes, and in his flights of rhetoric may leave his brethren of other denominations far behind. Take, for instance, the plague of frogs. An ordinary preacher could make but little of it; but a Swedenborgian will tell you that frogs mean false doctrines, and then what room you have for expansion! Again, if I take the word Egypt in the Old Testament to mean the “natural principle,” how much more can I say than he who means by Egypt—Egypt and nothing else! At the same time this very liberty seems to hamper and confine the Swedenborgians. There is something narrow and pedantic about their preaching. As Swedenborg studied the Bible and read no other book, so they seem to confine themselves exclusively to Swedenborg; and as they have none of them his genius, or his fulness, or his power, the result is something very far-fetched and tame and second-hand. You feel that in accordance with their own system of interpretation they might do much more than they actually do. “It is unquestionably true,” however (writes Mr. George Bush, late Professor of Hebrew in the University of New York), “that the piety inculcated by the doctrines of the New Church is of a more genial and cheerful stamp than that which is usually found under the auspices of the prevailing creeds, because the doctrines impart a higher and sublimer view of the infinite love and benignity of the Lord towards the human race, as willing the salvation of all, and ordering every event of His providence with a view to eternal ends of mercy in regard to each individual, and incessantly aiming to withhold him from hell, so far as it can ‘be done consistently with his moral freedom.’” When Tennyson writes:—
“Behold we know not anything;
I can but trust that good shall fall
At last—far off—at last to all,
And every winter change to spring.“That nothing walks with aimless feet,
That not one life shall be destroyed,
Or cast as rubbish to the void,
When God hath made the pile complete”—
he merely reproduces Swedenborgianism. Again, the Swedenborgians claim for their system an active philanthropy superior to that of any other sect. If heaven and hell are in us—if, as we develop the good we arrive at heaven, or as we develop the bad we sink into a deeper hell—no sects have greater provocatives to a godly life, and we might expect in their preaching a glowing sympathy with human right and popular progress, which assuredly in their pulpits in England finds but little utterance. Swedenborg teaches, in the strongest manner, that no man can lead a spiritual life apart from civil and moral life. Again and again he argues that the life which leads to heaven “is not a life of retirement from the world, but of action in the world. A life of charity, which consists in acting sincerely and justly in every situation, engagement, and work, in obedience to the Divine law, is not difficult; but a life of piety alone is difficult, and such a pious life leads away from heaven as much as it is vulgarly believed to lead to heaven.” The Christianity of his day he proclaims again and again to be worthless. It was founded on opinion, not on conduct. He who believes otherwise than the Church teaches is cast out of its communion; “but he who thieves, if he does not do so flagrantly, lies, betrays, and commits adultery, if only he frequents a place of worship and talks piously, passes as a religious man.” When a great abuse has to be attacked—when a hoary wrong in Church and State has to be swept away—when help is to be given to the wretched and the perishing, have we ever seen the Swedenborgian minister coming to the front as a leader? On the contrary, you will find him in his New Jerusalem ignoring humanity altogether, and torturing with tedious complacency Genesis and Revelation alike. If I were a preacher of any denomination, I would have Swedenborg’s works by me. They should be the fruitful source of many an argument to illustrate or arouse; but if in the future the pulpit is to maintain its place and power, the Swedenborgians, unless they turn over a new leaf, must retire into the background. Look at Cross Street, Hatton Garden, for instance, on a Sunday night; you will not find thirty people there; yet it stands in the midst of a teeming population, where the devil preaches to a crowded congregation every day and every hour. Let it not be supposed, however, that Swedenborgianism is perishing for lack of new blood. It was only a few days since I heard of a clergyman of the Church of England, who had resigned his living in consequence of his joining the Swedenborgians. Of the fancies of Swedenborg let me say there are those to whom they suggest much—reveal much. According to the man’s own statement, he was sent from God, and saw and revealed the secrets of the invisible world. Sometimes his revelations are very indecorous. Here is one. “Spiritual angels dislike butter, which was made clear to me from this circumstance: that although I am fond of butter I did not for a long while, even for some months, desire any, and during which time I was in association with them; and when I had tasted butter I found it had lost the pleasant flavour it once had to me. That the spiritual angels caused this aversion was plain from the fact that when a celestial angel was with me, and I was impelled to eat some good butter, the spiritual angels caused an odour of butter to rise from my mouth to my nostrils by way of reproach; still, however, they are much delighted with milk, and when I partook of some the relish was more grateful than I can describe. Milk belongs to the spiritual, as butter does to the celestial angels—not that they delight therein as food, but on account of their correspondence.” I should have said Swedenborg divides all angels into two orders—the celestial angels are the angels of love or the will, the spiritual angels are those of truth or the intellect. Angels, according to Swedenborg, are poor guides in worldly matters; “they only regard the good intention, and can be adduced to affirm anything which promises to advance it.”
If the absence of brotherly love for religious people, if a scorn of all who worship God different from themselves, constitute heresy—and surely the Apostle John shows that it does very clearly—then there are no such heretics in London as the Irvingites, who worship in a very magnificent cathedral in Gordon Square. Irving, I imagine, with all his genius, had a very uncatholic spirit. Take, for instance, his celebrated missionary sermon. Requested by the directors of the London Missionary Society to preach the annual sermon at Surrey Chapel—how did he begin?
When he ascended the pulpit he entered on a kind of audible soliloquy. Said he, “How shall I encourage myself to address the thronging multitude by whom I am surrounded? I will even cast about for a few examples. There are three of a notable character which now strike me: that of the Apostle Paul preaching before the Jewish Sanhedrim, that of Bernard Gilpin preaching before the Court of King Edward VI., and, that of a Scottish Divine preaching before the Commissioner of the General Assembly. On these three examples, as on a sacred tripod, I feel my spirit propped; but especially the last, the Scottish Divine preaching before the Commissioner of the General Assembly. If he could venture to encounter the hoary-headed eldership and substantial theology of the North, surely I may, without fear, address myself to the flimsy evangelism of the South.” In this kind and flattering way did Irving speak of the great body of English Dissenters.
Of the Irvingite Church, the late Drummond, the banker, M.P. for Surrey, was also an elder, and the same spirit lent bitterness to his sarcastic and biting tongue. It was a treat to see and hear him, especially when the topic was at all theological. Irving describes Drummond as one “who hath taken us poor despised interpreters of prophecy under your wing, and made the walls of your house like unto the ancient schools of the prophets.” But out of his own house Drummond seemed to have taken little else or nothing under his wing. His mission apparently was to preach that in nothing was there anything—that we were all whited sepulchres. The Egyptians placed a skeleton at their feasts to remind them of their mortality. The Sultan Saladin, it is said, had a similar message dinned daily into his ears by a herald especially appointed to that purpose. Mr. Drummond voluntarily took that duty on himself. In his eye we were all morally dead; all virtue was gone clean out of us; the Church was in darkness and in the valley of the shadow of death. Nor had Dissent one ray more of Gospel light. Under the mask of patriotism he saw the grovelling soul of the placeman; in the love of liberty the desire of licence; in the rulers of the land a lamentable lack of understanding; in the people a blind, senseless, untaught mass. Drummond was such a one as Tennyson describes:—
“Thou shalt not be saved by works;
Thou hast been a sinner too.
Ruined trunks on wither’d forks,
Empty scarecrows I and you.”
Thus did he perorate with the thinnest of voices, and gentlest manner, to a House of which, for many sessions, he was the delight and puzzle, all the while he was a member of the Irvingite Church.
A great claim is set up by this Church. Like Aaron’s rod, it is to swallow up all the rest. So great is its hatred of sects, it forms a new one. While calling itself the holy and Apostolic Church, it makes no exclusive claim to the title. It acknowledges it to be the common title of the one Church baptized unto Christ. It claims to be no body of separatists from the Church of England. The members recognise the continuance of that Church from the days of the Apostles, and of the three orders, bishops, priests, and deacons, by succession from the Apostles. They have no sympathy with Dissent in any of its forms. That is schism, and is to be condemned accordingly. They meet in separate congregations, but they are not open to the charge of schism, on the ground of their meeting being permitted and authorized, so they say, by an ordinance of paramount authority which they believe God has restored for the benefit of the Church. At once their ecclesiasticism strikes the most superficial observer; the idea of the Church, that it is a mere assembly of believers, is rejected by them on every occasion and in every way. Their great glory is that the Apostolical order exists and is manifested in them.
Their special teaching is something more. It is often asked, Are the days of Pentecost gone never to return? Have miracles ceased from among men? Cannot signs and wonders be still wrought by the Holy Ghost? As a rule, the Church answers this question in the negative. It teaches that the age of miracles is past; that they are no longer necessary; that in the fulness of time the Divine will was made known to man; and that the Church needs not now the signs and wonders by which that revelation was attested and declared. A large, or rather an active body, some few years ago sprang up in Scotland, crossed the Border, and extended to England, and enrolled amongst their members many in what may be termed an influential position in life. Enter their churches, and you learn, according to them, the gift of tongues still exists, signs and wonders are still manifested to the faithful, miracles are still wrought by those upon whom God has conferred the gift. Still, as much as in Apostolic times, does the Divine afflatus dwell in man, and the man so endowed becomes a prophet, and declares the will of God. “The doctrine of Christ’s reign upon earth was at first,” says Gibbon, “treated as profound allegory, was considered by degrees as a doubtful and useless opinion, and was at length regarded as the absurd invention of heresy and fanaticism.” A similar process has been in operation with regard to the power of working miracles and speaking in unknown tongues. Against this process the Irvingite or Catholic Church is a living protest.
It is now many years since a magnificent Gothic cathedral was commenced in the corner of Gordon Square, between what at one time was Coward College and the handsome building erected by the Unitarians, and known as University Hall. Architecturally the new church may take high rank. The cathedral, still unfinished, is perhaps the most extensive modern work of the kind that has been undertaken. The Early English style has been adopted generally for the exterior, but inside the style of the roof and stone carvings is Decorated. The flat ceiling of the aisles, with rich traceried bosses and spandrels, is very effective. The ornament throughout, of which there is a considerable quantity, displays careful design. Indeed, in the opinion of competent critics the execution could not be surpassed. There are daily services in the church; on Sunday there are four. In the evening there is a sermon addressed to strangers. It may be added here that, under the title of Catholic Apostolic churches, there are in all seven buildings registered in London. To each, I believe, appertain an evangelist, an apostle, a prophet, and an angel; and as each officer is peculiarly distinguished by his dress, in the cathedral in Gordon Square an effect is sometimes produced almost as scenic as any in a Roman Catholic cathedral. There are chairs for some, and benches for others; as much as possible they come and go in procession. All that is wanted to make you believe that you are in a Roman Catholic place of worship is a little incense, a few more banners, a little more life in the pulpit, and, above all, the presence of considerable numbers of the poorest of the poor. Here, indeed, the resemblance fails; there are no poor, comparatively speaking. Everyone is distressingly genteel; and I could swear more than once when I have been present, the preacher, so fashionable has been his lisp, has been, if not Lord Dundreary himself, at any rate his own “brother Thwam.” The hearers must be wealthy and liberal—the service of the church, and the church, all indicate this.
I do not here enter into the question how far Church authority extends, whether apostolical gifts are to be looked for in our day rather than the apostolic spirit. I am not even definitely able to sum up the teaching of the lights of Gordon Square. They avoid putting their doctrines in print—and seem to seek to make converts by sly insinuation rather than by open statement. All I can say is—and any outsider can see it—that with apostolic pretensions these men avoid every appearance of apostolical simplicity. They must meet not in an upper room, but in a gorgeous cathedral, where they must clothe themselves in every variety of ecclesiastical millinery, and appeal to the senses, to the eye and to the ear, rather than to the brain or heart. Thus is it, when genius fails, men have recourse to art. Irving would preach for hours to enraptured audiences. The church has no Irving now, but rejoices instead in mosaic pavement, fine music, man millinery, and elaborate ceremonial.
Many professedly Christian people, and many who are in no way such, have long been of opinion that there is something that is wrong about our present religious organizations; that they tend to separate rather than unite; that what society requires is not dogmatic theology, but freer Christian union. Rightly or wrongly—and that is a question not to be discussed now—this idea has led to the formation of the society whose title heads this article. In June last year the first practical attempt was made towards the formation of such a society. In the winter previous the basis of union was agreed on, and in the month referred to the anniversary was held in Freemasons’ Hall. Believing that in the vain pursuit of orthodoxy men have parted into rival churches, and lost the bond of common work and love; that doctrinal uniformity is become increasingly difficult, while at the same time there is a growing and a strengthening of moral and spiritual affinities; that the Divine will is love to God and love to man, and that equally broad should be the terms of pious communion among men, the new Union requires a spiritual fellowship co-extensive with these terms, and aims by relieving the Christian life from reliance on theological articles or external rites to save it from conflict with the knowledge and conscience of mankind, and bring it back to the essential conditions of harmony between God and man. The Society proposes to issue publications to illustrate the spirit of unsectarian Christianity, and to furnish the means of undogmatic instruction; to give aid to persons suffering for conscience sake from the spirit of exclusiveness; to watch legislation so far as it bears on religious freedom; to help existing sects to widen their basis, and to encourage the formation of congregations where the terms of communion shall be broad and undogmatic. Further, it aims at the establishment in London of a central church for the maintenance of Christian worship and life, apart from doctrinal interests and names, the services of which will be conducted by ministers of various ecclesiastical positions. Amongst the committee of this Union may be noted the names of George Dawson, Esq., the Rev. J. Martineau, and the Rev. W. Miall. The Rev. P. W. Clayden is one of the secretaries.
To the promoters of this new religious organization the attendance the first night must have been eminently gratifying. The large hall was well filled, and outside there were as many cabs and private broughams waiting about as at the Opera when a star of the first magnitude is engaged. On the occasion there was a special form of prayer devised, which was read by the Rev. Mr. Martineau, and two hymns were sung, one of Wesley’s—
“The saints on earth and those above
But one communion make.”
And another from the Breviary—
“Supreme Disposer of the heart,
Thou, since the world began,
With heavenly grace hast sanctified
And cheered the heart of man.”
Besides there was a chant, in which all joined, and a small band to sing the Amen. Two sermons were preached; one by the Rev. Athanase Coquerel, the far-famed leader of the section of the Reformed Church of France which does not sympathize with orthodoxy. In the personal appearance of this celebrated preacher there was little that was heretical or foreign. With his round face and stout frame you might have taken him for one of the sleekest of Anglican divines. Nevertheless his sermon was French in its construction and style of delivery and emphasis. His text was—“One thing is needful.” His argument went to show that that one thing needful was the love of God, and that forms of faith and ritualism were so many hills in our way, which blinded the view and impeded our appreciation of this grand fundamental truth. The discourse, which lasted half an hour, over, the Rev. W. Miall engaged in extemporaneous prayer, in which there was a special reference to the death of the Rev. Mr. Tayler, of Hampstead, one of the committee of the Union, and a Professor of Manchester New College, London; and then came the Rev. C. Kegan Paul, Rector of Upminster, in Dorsetshire, with another sermon. It is scarce necessary to observe that Mr. Paul—a fine, tall, muscular man in the prime of life, with a black beard and with a voice almost as sonorous (a Frenchman’s lungs always seem better than an Englishman’s) as Pastor Coquerel himself—is a man much distinguished by collegiate success and Eton fame, and that his sermon evinced high intellectual culture. His text was, “He is not here, but is risen,” and his aim was to show how men seek the dead Christ rather than the living one. The Reformation was an attempt to get rid of ritualism and formalism, and now again it is felt that religion can no longer be confined in an article. It is not only the Bible we must consult, God has written His Word in life and humanity. They were not Theists; Christ was a name symbolical of humanity, and they were, as a matter of fact, Christian men. Nor would they get rid of Christian phraseology as long as the feeling of the heart clothes itself in language hallowed by the use of ages. A change is passing over society, and we have now to study religion in connexion with nature, science, progress, life. Still, nothing that has nourished the soul of man can die. All that has been is a part of what is to come, and sustained by this truth we are not to faint or fail. And then came the benediction, and ministers and people went home. In this Church of the future, as it aims to be, it is clear there will be nothing derogatory to the ministerial office. The committee were seated in various parts of the hall, while the ministers in black gowns occupied the platform. Apparently never in Freemasons’ Hall had there met there men more spiritual and anxious for Divine guidance, and devout. As to the issue of it all we can safely and reverently wait.
There are two sides to every picture—two aspects, at the least, in which human schemes and organizations may be viewed. On the first night, as regards the Free Christian Union, we had the one view which must have cheered its promoters; on the next, when the business meeting was held, when we were told of what the Society had done and what it was going to do, an element of a very different character appeared. In this great capital, at this season of the year, when London is crowded with notabilities, the managers had to go to Cambridge for a young man to preside, who had—we say it respectfully—really a physical disqualification for the office. Then there was a very young gentleman, quite unknown to fame, called on to second a resolution, and forced on to the platform from the body of the hall to say that and nothing more. As a matter of fact, the Society had enrolled, we believe, a couple of congregations, and voted a grant of 5l. to the Free Christian Church at Lynn. Nevertheless, with a platform on which few men save those connected with the Unitarian denomination appeared, and with but little response even from that body, the Society aims to influence the public mind, especially by the press, by the publication of essays on the connexion between scientific theology and pure religion, the Bible as literature, dogma, prophecy, miracles, the possibility of a national formula of public devotion, the ethics of conformity, the place of religion in education, the limits of State action in ecclesiastical organizations. In some quarters it was evident that the feeling was that the Society had better aim at some practical work, such as the reconstruction of the National Church on the bases laid down in its own preamble; and one speaker, forgetful of the fact that the Church of Rome denied the right of private judgment in matters of religion in toto, asked whether any effort had been made to secure its sympathy and co-operation. It says little for the meeting that such a puerile question was politely received. As to speaking, indeed, the meeting was a failure, or would have been had it not been for the presence of Athanase Coquerel, who spoke in English at great length with the utmost freedom and warmth, and who had much to say of his own struggles on behalf of Free Christianity in France, of universal interest.
It appears in its early days the Protestant Church of France was entirely exclusive, and its confession of faith was drawn up by Calvin and Beza. One of its forty articles decreed that the sword had been put by God into the hands of reigning princes, magistrates, &c., not only to enforce obedience to the second table of the Ten Commandments, but also to the first. Another article implied that little children, even unborn babes, are condemned to eternal perdition in hell; and if they die without baptism can in no way whatever be saved. By-and-by a little more elasticity was imported into this creed, and the Liberal party continued to live, even when, as in 1685, Louis XIV. shut up all the Protestant academies in France. An English writer had truly remarked that no Church had suffered so long and so much from persecution as the Reformed Church in France, and he was right—the last pastor who was hung in Paris suffered that penalty only as recently as the year 1762. A young pastor preaching at Nismes had for one of his hearers Lafayette, and he and Lafayette got from Louis XVI., in 1787, an edict that gave the French Protestants civil rights, and since then the Church has revived, but at the same time it has steadily and consistently refused to re-enact the old rigid creeds. At present there were two parties in the Church, one orthodox the other Liberal. In the Church at Paris, consisting of bankers, with whom Guizot always acted, the Consistory is orthodox. That Consistory was formed in 1802 by Napoleon, who selected for that purpose the twelve persons most wealthy. In 1848 this Consistory was re-elected by universal suffrage, and this was the cause of great changes. The ultra-Conservative feeling of the day retained the old set in office, and they, feeling themselves invested with additional power, began that persecution of M. Coquerel’s father which continued till the last hour of his life. Of that persecution he, the speaker, had his share, and at last to support him the Union Protestante Libérale was formed. In a little while after he had spoken, to a certain extent favourably, of Renan’s work, he was excluded from the Church, and M. Martin Paschaud as well. As to himself he had obtained leave with two young ministers to commence preaching in a hired room. At the same time, as they had not been legally ejected from the Church, they can baptize, marry, perform funeral services—in short, do everything but preach. In conclusion, the speaker said how rejoiced he was to find in England an attempt made to establish such a Society. It was the want of the time, and long he trusted might they continue to uphold the banner of peace and love.
It is clear, outside the meeting at Freemasons’ Hall the idea is entertained that this was simply a Unitarian movement. Evidently such is the feeling of leading Unitarians themselves. One of them, the Rev. Mr. Ierson, who preaches in a beautiful and costly chapel in Islington, to a congregation that does not half fill the place, evidently so regards it. After the annual meeting, from the text, “Blessed are the peacemakers,” he preached a sermon on behalf of the new organization. He was delighted with what had been done. In the devotional service he had witnessed more life than he had ever seen in a Unitarian service before, and he was thankful for it. At the same time Mr. Ierson expressed his regret that the movement did not aim to accomplish something more, and also regretted that it did not succeed in enrolling beneath its banner men of sufficiently diverse sentiments. This was not difficult to account for, continued the reverend gentleman. The Independent Churches, meaning by that term Baptists and Congregationalists, have great fear of each other. The ministers are afraid of the people, who look well after them. In many places, if a man shakes hands with a Unitarian he is straightway denounced as a Unitarian himself. Nor was this altogether wrong. The real fact was that it would be found, directly any one approximated in civility to the Unitarians, he had either given up the doctrine of eternal damnation or some of the other dogmas of his body, and was not completely, and in the old-fashioned sense of the term, orthodox. Meanwhile the duty of the Unitarians was very obvious. They had to be more than ever charitable and deferential to all Christians, whatever their denomination. It was something to get men to respect each other, to believe each other to be honest, however they differed in faith and dogma. In his own opinion the Free Christian Union would have had a better chance had it been originated by another body of religionists. Even as regarded themselves he feared many of them were not sufficiently educated up to the mark; but at any rate it was something for the Unitarians to be associated with such a catholic and Christian union.
One word more may be said. At the business meeting one of the speakers was the Rev. Leigh Mann. Distinctly he avowed a belief the reverse of Unitarianism, and distinctly he glorified the association as one in which men of the most opposite dogmas could meet. In such an utterance we have an indication, how significant or eccentric time alone can tell. At any rate, while confessing that hitherto there has been little of Christian union founded on dogma, we may anxiously ask, is there a better chance if the common bond be work?
In the independent way, Baxter, describing the Westminster Assembly of Divines, says, “I disliked many things.” After mentioning what those things were—their making too light of ordination, their unnecessary and unscriptural strictness about the qualification of church members—he adds, “I disliked also the lamentable tendency of this their way to divisions and subdivisions and the nourishing of heresies and sects.” The soul of the good man was wearied, as well it might be, with these differences, so trifling yet so fiercely discussed, with this waste of power, with this spirit of wrangling and contention, with these quarrels of Christian with Christian, when the world was only to be made better, and the true Church only to be built up, by a holy life. In our time the tendency of some minds to fly off into fresh sects is greater, perhaps, than ever. In one street you see a placard up stating that here the Gospel is preached, and nowhere else. A good man says he is weary of all this sectarianism, and at once hires a room and starts a new sect. A man’s conscience is too sensitive to allow him to worship with a one-man ministry, or with any existing denomination. He shakes his head, and mourns over their worldliness, their carnality, their want of spiritual life; but does he better it by standing aloof, by shutting himself up with a few dismal-minded people, who come with their Bibles, and see in them, not what sound scholarly criticism teaches, but that which their own morbid fancy suggests? As men of the world, these things are to be looked at practically, and by the light of common sense. Here are certain religious agencies at work—by them people are being strengthened in the Christian life, trained to Christian work, in their way promoting the welfare of man, and glorifying God. I may affect a superior piety, I may refuse to associate with common Christians, I may leave them; but what is the result? That as far as I can I put hindrances in their way. Ignorant people look up to me as a saint, and the church and the minister where I have any influence are to the extent of that influence damaged. A gentleman writes to me—“Those who now represent the London Ecclesia, in recognition of the constitution and order of its organization, are, in this metropolis, myself and three others;” and then quotes—“‘Strait is the gate and narrow is the way which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it.’” It is in Peckham this new religious body meets. At such meetings they do not admit strangers, in fulfilment of the ordinance of the Lord which enjoins us to assemble “ourselves together to worship God in spirit and in truth,” and commands us—“If there come any unto you and bring not this doctrine (the doctrine of the Christ), receive him not into your house, neither bid him God speed.”
For the doctrines of this new sect I must refer the inquirer to a pamphlet published at 22, Paternoster Row, called “The Truth as it is in Jesus, defined in the Constitution and Order of the London Ecclesia, or immersed believers of the things of the Kingdom of God and the name of Jesus Christ.” In this pamphlet we have a summary of the faith delivered to the saints contrasted with the erroneous dogmas of popular theology, and also the apostolic rules for an ecclesiastical organization. In America, and many parts of England, Ecclesias, as they call them, exist. The document to which they subscribe their names is an exceedingly lengthy one, nor is it very intelligible. I should say that wherein they differ from other Christians in point of doctrine is this, that “everlasting life is the gracious gift of God through our Lord Jesus the Christ—the clothing upon the living soul or mortal body of life of a justified believer, with the quickening spirit or house which is from heaven, or the swallowing up of his death nature in the life of the Divine nature, so that this corruptible puts on incorruption, and this mortal puts on immortality by an impartation of spirit-life energy into every fibre of its organism, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, during the sounding of the last trumpet; and according to his type the Lord Jesus, the saint then becomes a son of God in power by a spirit of holiness, through a resurrection from among the dead, and cannot sin because he is born of God, and lives and moves and has his being in the essential goodness and peace and blessedness of the Divine existence.” Hence “the physical and moral impossibility of an immoral agency of evil exercising the attributes of an uncreated spirit—omniscience, omnipotence, and omnipresence—emanating from the Supreme Good, to antagonize His purposes and defeat the counsels of His will concerning the redemption of the Adamic race for the glory of His name.”
So far I quote what the followers of this new sect call their Marturion. As people generally can neither understand nor find time to read such verbose and minute confessions of faith, let me add that they believe that punishment on the finally impenitent is “the infliction on him as a living soul or mortal body of life of the many or few stripes in execution of his sentence until the appointed hour of his final doom arrives—to utterly perish in his own corruption.” Furthermore, I glean that with them the Devil simply means sin in the flesh. As the reader will have gathered from the title of their confession, they baptize with immersion; they deny, amongst other things, the common doctrine of the Trinity, or that Christ is God and had an existence independent of the Father; that the Holy Ghost operates of His own power as God; that God fashioned man after His own image; that the serpent was an incarnation of an immoral intelligence; they deny the common ideas of heaven and hell; that the blood of Jesus Christ cleanses the sin of the whole world, so that infants, idiots, and believers obtain eternal salvation under the covenanted and uncovenanted mercies of God; or that the knowledge of the glory of the Lord shall cover the earth as the waters cover the seas, through the instrumentality of the orthodox ministry as ambassadors of Christ, beseeching men in His stead to be reconciled to God by believing in the Gospel, and in the Jesus they present as the Way, the Truth, and the Life, and that Christ is with them always, even to the end of the world. Their appeal is, however, to the Bible, and its inspiration is one of the cardinal articles of their creed.
Let me now speak of their order. They meet every Sunday for worship, and for the purpose of celebrating the Lord’s Supper, and have, besides, occasional meetings for the exposition and study of Scripture. The executive consists of a presiding elder and deacons elected by the members. A candidate for church membership is required to make a written confession, and every one joining the Ecclesia, either by immersion or by admission from other Ecclesias, is to sign the articles of constitution and order of which I have given a brief outline.
As regards the service, any brother is at liberty to take a part. Of course this is the defect of this system—as of all such, where the public are concerned. As a rule, nothing can be more inedifying or dreary or repelling than amateur preaching, and this is manifestly the weak point of all the good people who find preachers so unprofitable, and who so delight in the sound of their own voices. As evangelizing agencies they are a failure. They produce no impression on the world. Men of sense want something more thoughtful, more in accordance with the facts of life, and the young are driven to the other extreme. I believe this remark will hold good of most of these super-refined Christians. They have a wonderful command of Scripture language. They can talk by the hour, and they are intensely ignorant, as all people who shut themselves to one book and ignore God’s Word in His works must be. They may edify each other, they certainly have no power of edifying any one else.
The rules of their Sunday service are—Prayer, singing, comprehensive prayer, offered up by one of the brethren at the instance of the presiding brother on behalf of the members of the one body, the administration of the Lord’s Supper, exhortation from or exposition of the Word by any brother who wishes to respond to the invitation of the presiding brother, and the Lord’s Prayer in conclusion. After the communion, there is a box placed on the Lord’s table to receive, at the close of the service, the free-will offering of the brethren for the common good of the Ecclesia in every work of faith and labour of love. Besides, there is a monthly charge made to each of the brethren which is handed over to the brother responsible for its satisfaction on the last Sunday of every month. I find I have omitted to state that one article of faith is the restoration of the Jews, and the reign of Christ and His saints upon the earth for a thousand years. Already there has been, as was natural, division in the camp. The Christadelphians are an offshoot, as I understand. They are very adventurous people, these Christadelphians. They welcome strangers in their midst. The original Ecclesias contend for the application of the principle of separation in communion worship.
The love of names is one of the strongest passions of which human nature is susceptible. In starting a newspaper, in publishing a book, in opening a shop, a good name is half the battle. Years and years ago there was an individual advertising his academy as Hogflesh. How disgusting! Respectable parents objected, and the name became Hoflesh. A little while since a poor fellow, tortured by the jeers of the world, advertised that, for the future, instead of bearing the monosyllable unpleasantly suggestive bequeathed him by less scrupulous or thicker-skinned parents, he would henceforth call himself, and be called by others, Mr. Norfolk Howard. (I should not wonder if by this time, with his new name, the man has married an heiress.) Poor Charles Lamb once wrote a farce, but as it turned out that the hero of it was Mr. Hogsflesh, good society would have none of it, and straightway it vanished into limbo. Our fathers can remember what ridicule was showered down on Dissenters by the Edinburgh Review, and what laughter there was at them all over the land when the Rev. Sydney Smith told how Mr. Shufflebottom was ordained at Bungay. It is to be feared that in the religious world names have had even a greater influence than amongst the profane. What good men have been persecuted and suffered wrong because they bore the name of a sect distasteful to an imperious majority! How the mob have thirsted for their blood! “These are Christians—away with them to the lions,” said they of old Rome. “Down with the Roundheads!” was the cry of country squire and rural parson when a few devout men such as Richard Baxter and others more or less known to fame met in a small room to keep alive the spirit of piety and prayer amongst themselves. It was the same when Wesley and Whitefield, often at the peril of life, proclaimed in parishes of England sunk in ignorance Gospel truths. There are thousands who, like the late Isaac Taylor, of Ongar, could tell how a “Church and King mob” kept them in perpetual fear, because they were “Meetingers.” There are yet parishes in Suffolk and Norfolk where to go to chapel is to insure your being despised as a “Pogram,” and cut by all the dignities of the village, even if you have the learning of a German professor and the piety of a saint. In the Babel of London, however, it is different; here, there is a rage for new names, and there are preachers and people ever ready to resort to a new name, as if novelty were a possibility in our day, after eighteen hundred years of theological hair-splitting and threshing of straw. The Christadelphians are the latest production in this way. They meet in Crowndale Hall, Crowndale Road, St. Pancras Road, every Sunday; in the morning, at eleven, for the breaking of bread, and worship; in the afternoon at three, when there is a Bible-class especially for inquirers, when opportunity to ask questions respecting the one faith is afforded; and at seven in the evening, when we are told the Word of God is expounded in harmony with the things concerning the kingdom of God and the name of Jesus anointed. One of the most active teachers is Mr. Watts, late of Vernon Chapel, King’s Cross Road. The Athenæum Hall, Temple Road, Birmingham, seems to be the headquarters of Christadelphian publications. There are published there the Christadelphian Shield, the Biblical Newspaper, and the Ambassador, monthly periodicals, and other publications more expensive, and aiming to be standard works.
This, I take it, is the epitome of their faith:—
“One God, the Eternal Father, dwelling in heaven in light of glory inconceivable; one universal irradiant Spirit, by which the Father fills all and knows all, and when He wills, performs all; one Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, begotten by the Spirit of the Virgin Mary, put to death for sin, raised from the dead for righteousness, and exalted to the heavens as a Mediator between God and man; man a creature of the ground, under sentence of death because of sin, which is his great enemy—the devil; deliverance from death by resurrection, and bodily glorification at the coming of Christ and inheritance of the kingdom of God, offered to all men on condition—1, of believing the glad tidings of Christ’s accomplishment at His first appearing, and of His coming manifestations in the earth as King of Israel and Ruler of the whole earth at the setting up of the kingdom of God; 2, of being immersed in water for His name; and 3, of continuing in well-doing to the end of this probationary career.”
This is the teaching of the new sect. They rejoice in their emancipation from the bondage of orthodoxy. Mr. Watts says:—“My past nineteen years of religious life I regard as so much lost time taken up with the fables and follies of man’s fleshly mind, systematized upon a pagan theology; and although I honestly thought myself right, and strove hard to lead others, yet I am now fully persuaded it was all done in ignorance of the true knowledge of God.” He tells us the Evangelical party in the Church or Dissent do not know the Gospel. “Nothing can be more clear,” he says, “than that this (their doctrine of the resurrection) first item of the Gospel as preached by Jesus and the Apostles does not form any part of the teaching either of those who pretend to be the successors of the Apostles, or the sects and parties of Dissenters who have imbibed their system of theology from the same polluted stream.” The doctrine of the soul’s essential and inherent immortality is a pagan myth. For the heathen there is no future life; for them what Macbeth wished has come to pass, and life is indeed
“The be all and the end all here.”
The mere belief of this doctrine relieves orthodoxy of the perplexing problem, What becomes of the heathen? and of course strikes at the foundation of the doctrine of purgatory. Yet we are not to suppose there will be no punishment for the wicked and the disobedient; they shall beaten with stripes, and then, according to the righteous Judge, enter upon that second death state, from which there shall be no resurrection—an opinion the direct opposite of that of Origen and Archbishop Tillotson, first promulgated in modern times by Dr. Rust, Bishop of Dromore. The Calvinistic formula is also, in the opinion of the Christadelphians, a mere travesty of the subject of the atonement. As to man in general, he is born to die. God treated the first man federally. He put him on probation, and in him all his successors stood or fell. We never read of immortal, never-dying souls in Scripture, and to foist such a meaning on 2 Cor. v. 8, as that it proves the existence of a separate state of disembodied spirits, is to handle the Word of God deceitfully. Once Mr. Watts believed in a kingdom in the sky, a throne in the heart, a seed of Israel, a New Jerusalem and promised land, all mystically referring to something at present existing in the so-called Christian Church. He does so no longer. His eyes are opened, the light is come, and he and his friends, chiefly juveniles, rejoice; and if they have the true light, who shall say they have no reason to rejoice? Farewell, writes Mr. Watts, in a poem considered poetically of doubtful merit—
“Farewell to the false, I welcome the true,
And begin the year with Christ anew.”
This reference to poetry reminds me that the Christadelphians have a hymn-book of their own, to frame which appears to have been a matter of no little trouble. With the hymns used by Christian churches in general they find much fault. They require something manly and robust, whereas the churches of all denominations rejoice in what is sentimental, and their songs of praise and devotion are described as “oceans of slops.” Whether the Christadelphians have much improved theirs, I leave the reader to judge. As a specimen I quote one verse from Montgomery’s well-known poem, “The Grave.” In their hymn-book I find it printed thus. I quote from memory:—
“There is a calm for saints who weep,
A rest for weary Weyyah found;
In Christ secure they sweetly sleep,
Hid in the ground.”
At present the Christadelphians do not seem very flourishing. In their little room—which is miscalled a hall—there are about forty of them of an evening, quibbling earnestly, and to the best of their ability.
In taking leave of the Christadelphians, let me refer to a passage in our Church history. It is notorious that the celebrated Henry Dodwell, Camden Professor of History in the University of Oxford, in order to exalt the power and dignity of the priesthood, endeavoured to prove that the doctrine of the soul’s natural mortality was the true and original doctrine, and that immortality was only at baptism conferred upon the soul by the gift of God through the hands of one set of regularly ordained clergy.
There are two classes of people of whom a wise man should be wary. He who comes to you in a jolly, confidential sort of way, and tells you that you know that he never pretended to be much of a saint, and he whose saintship is so sublimated that he finds all denominations in grievous error, and must form a new sect for himself. It is to be feared that such men are in a very bad way, and have most erroneous conceptions of God and His dealings. It is certainly remarkable that they are chiefly to be met with in the most ignorant sections of professors—amongst the
“Petulant capricious sects,
The maggots of corrupted texts.”
Any liberal culture seems fatal to them. As soon as they manage to pronounce their h’s and to talk grammatically, they can worship with other Christians, can rejoice in the magnificent inheritance which has come down to the Church of our day from the sanctified intellect of former times—can derive edification from an educated ministry—possibly may sing the songs of a Keble, and may be able occasionally to join in a form of prayer which was found adequate for the expression of the spirituality of a Martyn or a Wilberforce.
In London, if we are to believe what we hear in some quarters, the real seat of true and undefiled religion is to be found amongst the small body who meet in an obscure street leading out of the Walworth Road. The neighbourhood is not a very attractive one, and is inhabited chiefly by retail tradesmen, who must find it in these hard times a struggle to make both ends meet. You must look sharp to find the place of which you are in search. In a row of shops opposite Lion Street you will see one in the day-time with the shutters up. On the shutters you will see one or two little bills headed Christian Meeting House, containing an invitation, as follows:—“Dear friend, you are affectionately invited to the following meetings.” Then you have a list of the times of meeting, an announcement that all seats are free, and the text, “For both He that sanctifieth and they who are sanctified are all one, for which cause He is not ashamed to call them brethren.” If you enter, you see a few benches in what is meant for a shop, and a few more in the room behind. Where the window is there is a desk, at which the chairman or conductor of the meeting sits. By the door is a little box into which the offerings of the faithful are poured. As a rule the place, which cannot hold more than forty or fifty adults comfortably, is well filled by very poor people. It is the only place of meeting of the sect in London. They are numerous, so they say, in Essex, Sussex, and Surrey, but in the Walworth Road they are few and not popular with their neighbours, who possibly know no better. Now and then up comes a street-boy and makes a hideous noise through the keyhole; but the Peculiar People have got used to that. I should fancy with the keen-witted artisans of London they make but little way. The reader may remember that a little while ago some of these people figured in a police-court. They had refused all proper medical aid for a child, and it died in consequence. They have great faith, these poor people. They have great scorn also for people more benighted than themselves. They speak contemptuously of the time when they knew no better, when they trusted in forms, and attended on a one-man ministry, and were humbled and dejected on account of sin, and called themselves miserable sinners, and confessed that they had done the things they ought not to have done, and left undone those things which they should have done. All that sort of feeling and talk is all wicked in their opinion; for theirs is the glorious liberty of the sons of God and joint heirs of heaven. Religion has no difficulties for them, no mysteries; nothing beyond the reach of man, heights to which he cannot ascend, depths which he cannot fathom. To come together and declare their unspeakable joy is all that they have to do. For this the beginner is as competent as the grey-headed believer, the sister as well as the brother, the ignorant man as well as he who has had a college education. Triumphantly they ask—
“When the Lord would speak,
Think ye he needs the Latin or the Greek?”
Of course not. And thus in turn they all preach and pray with a zeal which literally is not according to knowledge. If a man cannot say he lives without sin, they set him down as no Christian. At one time they held that as the Spirit of God only teaches one thing, that if true so-called Christians disagreed in Church matters, one of them was a child of the devil; and as they were not at all backward in applying this doctrine, they were split up as fast as they gathered together. They have a great deal of the Methodist leaven amongst them, and at prayer, or while speaking is going on, express their feelings in a way which, to a stranger, may be considered unnecessarily noisy. Their leaders seem to be a small tradesman in the Southwark Road, and a little, pale, wizened female, whose utterances and prayers are of the most extraordinary character—a sort of sing-song, now rising and then dropping, in a way which in a secular personage and on secular subjects would be ludicrous in the extreme. But they profess to have no leaders. They have elders, who are simply elders. They become such by lapse of time alone.
As to their organization, I much question if they have any. One brother assured me there were rules, but as the price was fourpence, and as trade was slack, he had been unable to procure a copy of them. In answer to our appeal, an elder said there were such, but they were under lock and key, and he could not find them for us; whereupon another brother reached out a New Testament, with the assurance that there, and there alone, were their rules. What information we could get we had to fish out by questions. As to Church membership, they have no preliminaries. All who come are of the Church; those whom the Lord calls will join them, and if the Lord has not called them they will soon drop away. They consider that every service is the sacrament, and they have no special form. In the same way they have no baptism—infant or adult, creeds, confessions of faith, forms of prayer, ministers set apart and trained to preach;—all these things they have done away with. By communion as brother with brother, and sister with sister, they can cherish the true Christian life. If one of them lack anything, let him or her ask of God. How familiarly and at times irreverently they pray, the reader can well imagine. It is difficult to say common things with propriety, says the old Latin proverb. It is more difficult to introduce them into prayer, to inform the Lord that Brother Jones would have been present had he not been unable to come, and to explain the peculiarly distressing circumstances of Sister Smith. For acting on the world outside, they have great faith in out-of-door preaching, an exercise in which they take great delight, and for which they consider themselves peculiarly qualified. They forget, as one has wittily remarked, that if the Lord does not need man’s learning, still less does He need man’s ignorance. As to the financial question, they get over that without much difficulty. Their expenses are next to nothing, and each brother or sister is ever ready to contribute his mite. They have nothing to pay for pew-rents; they have no minister’s salary to collect; they have no educational institutions to support; the rent of a room in a back street is no serious item; and as to church furniture, that is easily supplied—a door-mat, a dirty desk, half a dozen old forms, a second-hand Bible or so, a greasy hymn-book that has done duty many times, and they have all that they require. It is not for me to judge my brother. To show him how fatal is his fluency of tongue, how presumptuous his hope, how unfounded his joy, is a thankless task. All I would suggest is, that he should exercise a little of that charity of which he stands in need himself, and not fancy that to him has been revealed what men of greater piety and higher intellect have been unable to discover. Another objection may also be taken. In an ancient town, with a fine old castle, many, many years ago, there was an attempt to form a volunteer regiment. Unfortunately all wanted to be officers; the consequence was, the regiment came to grief. The Peculiar People have too many officers. Where every one has an equal right to teach, the number of the taught will be small indeed.
In this our day one of the expiring sects of Christendom is that of the Sandemanians. At no time have they been a very powerful denomination either from their numbers, their influence, or their wealth. They have never yet made their mark upon the world, nor are they likely to do so now. The late Professor Faraday was one of their elders, and for a time conferred on them a little of his world-wide reputation; but one swallow does not make a summer, nor does one great man confer greatness on a church. The eccentricity of men of genius is proverbial. Sharp, the engraver, believed in the lunatic Brothers and the impostor Joanna Southcote; Irving in the gift of tongues and the power of working miracles; Swedenborg in his faculty of piercing the veil which envelopes all sublunary affairs and realizing what we are taught to consider will only be revealed to us when the heavens and earth shall pass away as a scroll, and time shall be no more. Even our great emancipator Luther, the Moses who led forth—to borrow a figure from Cowley—our modern Israel from its house of bondage, and brought them into the promised land, testified to a visible appearance of the Prince of Darkness, to get rid of whom he had to dash his ink-bottle, a type, as it always seems to me, of the victory yet to be achieved by means of print over the devil and all his works. But Faraday is gone. No longer can the Sandemanians boast the possession of one of England’s greatest philosophers; and they have now little power of influencing or predominating in society. They seem to me a very plain and humble folk, aiming at keeping up in their own hearts Christian love, and in their own circle primitive practices, rather than in aggressive movements, without which no church or denomination can expect in this busy age long to live.
There is one Sandemanian church in London, up in Barnsbury, at the corner of one of the streets running out of the Roman Road. The original church was founded in the year 1760, in the Barbican. City improvements necessitated its removal to this site, where it has now been erected four or five years. It was in the old chapel that Professor Faraday used to take his turn in preaching. In the new chapel his widow is still one of the worshippers. As you pass the place you would not see anything very extraordinary. It is a neat, simple structure, of white brick, with no architectural pretensions of any kind. It only differs from other places of worship in having no board up announcing to what denomination it belongs, nor the name of the preacher, nor the hours of assembly, nor where applications for sittings are to be made, nor to whom subscriptions are to be paid. Indeed, the only reference at all to an outside world seems to consist in the putting up a caution intimating that the building is under the guardianship of the police, and persons evilly disposed had better mind what they are about. Thus, and thus only, is the recognition of an outer world lying in darkness and needing the true light of the Gospel in any way acknowledged. They have service twice on Sunday, in the morning and afternoon, and a week-day meeting on Wednesday evening. They have no Sunday or day-school, no tract distribution, no district visiting, no minister, and no other means of acting on the world or forming religious opinion. Indeed, I fancy they are averse to anything of the kind. “We are utterly,” I read in one of their publications, “against aiming to promote the cause we contend for either by creeping into private homes or by causing our voice to be heard in the streets, or by officiously obtruding our opinions upon others.” Even if you enter their place of worship there is no pew-opener to show you to a seat. They claim simply to obey the commands of the Bible implicitly, to be a church founded for mutual edification and love—nothing more. The stranger who for the first time attends will be struck with the absence of the pulpit, instead of which he will find two large desks, one above the other, in which are seated three or four elderly persons; the attention which is paid to the reading of the Bible; the illiterate way in which those who preach and pray do so; and the length and dulness of the service. The morning service, for instance, begins at eleven, and is never over till half-past one. No wonder the Sandemanians are not a vigorous sect. I believe they have but one place of worship in England, three or four in Scotland, and more, how many I know not, in America. The chapel in Barnsbury will seat, I imagine, from three to four hundred people, and it is always nearly full, and attended by people in respectable appearance. Of the really poor they seem to have none at all.
The Sandemanians originated in Scotland, in 1728, as a kind of reaction against Presbyterianism and Calvinism. Mr. John Glass, a minister of the Kirk, was deposed by the Presbyterian Church Courts because he taught that the Church could be subject to no league or covenant—that faith was simple belief—and that Christianity never was, nor ever could be the established religion of any nation without becoming the reverse of what it was when first instituted. Mr. Robert Sandeman, one of his elders, however, by his numerous writings, left on the new organization the impress of his name. In these days, when metaphysical speculation has little encouragement amongst Christians, the Sandemanians tell us they have no formal creed or confession of faith—that they simply follow Scripture practice, and that is all. For this purpose they meet together on the first day of the week, not only to read and hear the Word, but particularly to break bread or communicate together in the Lord’s Supper; to pray, which is done by several in turns; to listen to an exhortation from one of the elders. They are a Christian republic. At the conclusion of every prayer—whether pronounced by the elders or the brethren—the whole church say Amen, according to what is intimated in 1 Cor. xiv. 16. In the interval between the morning and the afternoon service they have their love-feast, of which every member partakes, when they salute each other with a holy kiss. The children are all baptized, on the plea that if one of the parents believes the children are not unclean but holy, and because it is written in Acts, “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved and thy house.” They deem it unlawful to eat flesh with its blood; they wash each other’s feet; they hold all things in common so far as the claims of the poor and the Church are concerned; they forbid no amusements but those connected with the lot, such as cards or dice; their elders are chosen from amongst them on account of their piety and character, and are ordained by prayer and fasting, and laying on of hands. A deacon is elected in the same way, minus the fasting. Any one who appears to understand and believe the truth may be admitted into their fellowship. When a person is excommunicated the act takes place in the presence of the whole church. Two elders must be present at every act of discipline. It may be further stated that in every church transaction, whether it be receiving, censuring, or expelling members, or choosing officers, or in performing any other business, unanimity is deemed indispensable. If there is a dissenting brother, after the reasons of the dissent have been stated, and judged unscriptural by the church, he is expelled. The Sandemanians allow neither government by a majority nor a representation of minorities.
As an outsider I should say nothing was ever more uninteresting, nothing ever more calculated to alienate from religion intelligent young people, than the services conducted by the Sandemanians. The elders and deacons, excellent men undoubtedly, are singularly deficient in oratorical ability. I think the worst sermon I ever heard in my life was preached by one of them. They cannot even read the Bible in an impressive and edifying manner, nor is their psalmody much better. They have a literal version of the Psalms, and they sing them through, a couple of verses or so at a time. I give one specimen I heard, not the last time I attended there:—
“Moab I will My Wash-pot make,
O’er Edom cast my shoe;
Do thou, O land of Palestine,
Triumph, because of Me.”
The modern hymnology, of which all sections of the Church are justly proud, exists in vain for them. Their church seems utterly destitute of intellectual vigour; and when, as in these days, brains are beginning to rule, the piety that rejects or ignores them is in danger. There is a relation between the Bible and modern thought of which the good people who preach dull sermons and make dull prayers up in Barnsbury have no idea.