But supposing that future punishment did issue in moral improvement, and that such improvement should go on increasing, is it thinkable that under an infinitely gracious and wise government there would come no time of such perfection as would warrant release? But in that case the suffering would not be endless. Whichever way you take it, that seems to be the inevitable, final issue.

So it seems to me that the only wise, and beneficent, and just idea of future suffering, whether it be intense or mild, or whether it be of shorter or longer duration, is, that it will be the means of working out a divinely intended degree of moral perfection; and that it will then come to an end. This course of procedure we observe here and now. It may operate on a larger scale, and with more final results, in the life to come; but we apprehend that the principle will be much the same. And the principle is enough for us now. The details, we are sure, will be worthy of Infinite Wisdom and Love.

It will thus be observed that our author's dictum that "all sin is forgiven sin" absolutely forbids the idea of endless torment. It is a marvel that he did not see this before. But somehow, likely from early training, there is a strong disposition to retain the idea of endless torment as though it were the Gospel. We think, on the contrary, that any good reasons, whether founded on Scripture or on common sense, should be hailed as a deliverance from intellectual and spiritual bondage. Above all things, let us beware of turning the divine light into darkness.

This is a mere sketch of the order that may be supposed to obtain in the next life. We need to put Scripture and reason together to get a view of such things as will commend themselves to our best judgment. And when we have done our best, what can we really know of details? Not much, certainly; but enough to appeal strongly to faith and hope. In fact, anything like a complete revelation could not be given to us now and here; for we have not the capacity nor the experience to understand it. And even if it could be given, it might largely distract us from the ordinary duties of life. It is a gracious Providence that shuts out the unseen from these mortal eyes. But we have the great consolation that "what we know not now, we shall know hereafter."

In regard to the unfolding of divine truth, I have just met with the following terse expression of it: "The inscrutable laws of the all-wise God do not reveal themselves in one generation, but ripen with the desire for knowledge on the part of mankind."

Thus, there is a progress in revelation. There are epochs when men get larger views of truth. I think the present is one of these epochs. Many statements of Scripture that were supposed formerly to relate wholly to the present life, are now seen to relate to the life beyond. This brings a wonderful naturalness and harmony into the whole scheme of grace, so far as it is revealed.

The idea of no endless torment is but an enlargement of the principle that God brings good out of evil.

Consider also that an ideal condition of the universe seems to require that sin and suffering will be forever eliminated; and that under God's administration an ideal condition will be realized.

Further; God has a personal love for every human soul. The most degraded of our race can say as truly as did Paul, "He loved me." It is reasonable to expect, then, that infinite Love will secure for the worst of mankind something better than endless torment.

I have referred to the fact that the mind has a strong affinity for truth. But certainly, it has a strong repugnance to a belief in endless torment. Men try to believe it because they think it is taught in the Bible, and that it would be a dangerous thing to doubt it. But apart from that, there is no natural or hearty concurrence of the mind in that view. And I think I may say that such an attitude is more pronounced in those of an elevated and reverent turn of mind.

Then we know that God "does not afflict willingly, nor grieve the children of men." Therefore we believe all the suffering of this life and of the next is but as a means to an end.

The fact, also, that sin and suffering are abnormal features of the divine administration, indicates almost beyond doubt that they will finally be done away.

Remember, too, that it is very clearly revealed that an Atonement has been made for "every man." Thus, a divine provision has been made for every man Now the provision involves desire; and can the desire fail? Under a perfect administration, therefore, how can there be endless suffering?

Then if God gave His own Son, and if the Son gave Himself, for the redemption of the world, will that Atonement fail of its effect in a single case? Such a possibility is almost unthinkable.

Consider, also, that the possibility of eternal sin and suffering seems to imply a failure of the divine administration; which is impossible.

Then, God is forever the same. If He is love, wisdom, power, justice, mercy, now, He is the same through all eternity. At no future epoch, therefore, can we conceive of the necessity of endless torment.

We have to remember too, that God rules in all worlds, and throughout all time. Forever, and everywhere, "His counsel will stand, and He will do all His pleasure."

It is an orthodox doctrine that God cannot suffer. But that does not seem in harmony with the breathing of His sigh, "O that they were wise!" or "How can I give thee up?" or the tears of Christ over the apostate city. Now, if God is eternal Love, do not sin and suffering interfere forever with His happiness? But normally we conceive of Him as the infinitely happy One; therefore that normal condition requires that sin and suffering be ultimately done away.

Then we have the fact that we are God's children; yes, even the most debased of mankind. Paul could say to the idolaters of Athens, "We are His offspring." Now, if we are really His children, and therefore infinitely dearer to Him than our children are to us, will not the present suffering of even one of us be a source of pain to the eternal Father? On that ground we cannot think of suffering as being endless. This is holy ground; let us tread it reverently.

Further; we read that Christ "lighteth every man that cometh into the world." Now, if He loves every man, and atones for every man, and enlightens every man, is it conceivable that He will not somewhere and at some time save every man?

Likewise, we read that "the Spirit is given to every man." Is not that the initial stage of redemption? Then will not redemption be completed? Here we see but a very small part of the outgoings of Him who is from everlasting to everlasting.

Then this larger view explains God's universal call. He says, "Look unto me and be ye saved, all ye ends of the earth." There we see God's intention; and if it is not carried out in this life, will it not be in the life to come? We are accustomed in our short-sightedness to think that the dividing line of death is final. But with God it is not final. It only marks the stage from one epoch to another.

In the same way, this larger view explains God's repeated promise to Abraham. The promise was made to him that in him all the families on the earth would be blest. But uncounted millions of them have not been blest, so far as this life is concerned. Will the promise not be fulfilled? And how can it be fulfilled but by being fulfilled in the next life?

Then, of Christ it was foretold that he should "see of the travail of His soul, and should be satisfied." But surely, He is not satisfied with the comparatively small number of the human race that have been saved. If He loves each one of them individually, will He be satisfied with less than the salvation of each one?

Evidently, He looked forward to this all-conquering epoch when He said that He would draw all men unto Himself. Certainly, He did not draw all men to Himself when He was here. What remains for us but to enlarge our view, and believe that He will do it there?

Along the same line we have the promise that "all Israel shall be saved." That promise has not been fulfilled, and never can be fulfilled, in this life. Is it too much to say that it will be fulfilled in the life to come?

In like manner it is promised that "He shall have the heathen for his inheritance." But uncounted millions of the heathen have died in utter darkness; and millions more are dying now. How can the promise be fulfilled within the bourne of time? But we thank God that the whole span of time is but one short epoch with Him whose ways are from everlasting.

Judging from the revelations that we have of God, we believe that He can and will achieve the maximum of holiness and happiness for all His creatures, according to their several capacities. In harmony with this view, scientists and moralists say that it is a law of the universe that anything that is really good will endure. It is likely that in the future life we shall see the working of that principle as we cannot see it now.

It is strongly in favor of this idea that man is endowed with such amazing potentiality. There seems to be no end to his capacity of development. Now, is it to be supposed that an all-wise God would endow man with such possibilities, and create no scope for their development? Certainly, there would be no worthy development of them in the case of endless torment. This idea strongly suggests universal salvation.

In the case of eternal suffering, without hope of release, would not that condition develop every possibility of evil to all eternity? And would not such an outcome be entirely contrary to the purpose of the Holy One?

Then it is an everlasting argument for universal salvation that such a consummation would be far more glorifying to God, than any other alternative that we can conceive.

Thus, the larger view goes a long way to explain God's delay in saving the heathen. We may fail in giving them the Gospel; but will He fail? Is His success made dependent on any passing whim or indifference of ours? Surely not. He may have good reasons for saving some in this life, and others in the next. We see but a short way into the whole scheme of things.

This larger view also solves the difficulty of dealing after death with the imperfect Christian. He is not fit for the world of bliss, nor yet for the world of woe. But the discipline we are supposing fits him for his higher destiny.

And so, we may well suppose, it will be with the non-Christian good man. On the principle that what is good will endure, all that is good in him will be retained, and the evil will be eliminated.

Also, on this basis we can reasonably forecast the destiny of the insane. Since they lost their reason they are not responsible. But they will resume their reason at the point where it deserted them, and they will be prepared for the inheritance of the saints.

The same theory justifies the destruction of wicked nations. They had gone down to such depths of sin, that it was better for them to be cut off, and to have a new opportunity under more favorable conditions.

This larger view also explains why God chose to continue the human race after they sinned, and entailed on all their posterity such mourning, lamentation and woe. God did an infinitely better thing for the race than extinction. He provided a way of salvation for all. So the day may come in the endless years when all the pains and penalties of earth will be reckoned trifles as light as air, contrasted with the supernal glory that has been attained.

I would also say that according to this larger view there is no more difficulty as to supposed eternal separations. It has always been a mystery how the good can be happy when conscious that those whom they loved are in everlasting torment. Some have even tried to believe that they would rise to God's own point of view, and survey with complacency the utmost torments of the dammed!

When I was a child I often heard the dictum from the pulpit that "the nature that sinned must suffer." Therefore, it was said that our Lord took our humanity in order that He might suffer in our nature. I have believed since that if He had suffered in any other nature, His suffering would be no less efficacious. I believe that the merit of His suffering could be transferred to any other world that needs it, be the inhabitants human or otherwise, and be their sin what it may. I think it is not for us to limit that merit to our own race. But we need not follow that point farther now.

I often heard another dictum, and one of more importance, that I feel inclined to question. It was said that sin committed against God is an infinite evil, because God is infinitely holy. Therefore, it was argued, that sin deserves infinite punishment; but that as finite beings we cannot render an infinite penalty in point of quality, we must render it in point of duration; hence the justice of everlasting punishment.

I confess that to me all this show of logic items act much more than a play upon words. For one thing, it may be doubted if a finite being is capable of committing an infinite sin. If he is not, the whole argument collapses.

Then if he is capable of it, and if the sin in justice demands an infinite punishment, how can a just God forbear inflicting the punishment at once? But He waits to be gracious. Is not that a transgression of the strict law of justice? But if in justice He can wait an hour, why not a year? And if a year, why not a hundred years? And if a hundred years, why not forever? Thus the penalty would be avoided altogether.

Further; if sin demands an infinite penalty, the penalty could never be rendered. For infinity has no end; and so, prolong the penalty as we might through uncounted aeons, there would still be an eternity to come. Therefore, the penalty would never be exacted. It requires the whole of eternity; and eternity will never end. Therefore, on this showing, with all reverence, God might as well stop at once, and claim no penalty, for the penalty goes on forever; and forever has no end. Not even a moiety of the penalty could be inflicted; for a moiety can be measured, but infinity has no measurement.

Besides; if the penalty is to be infinite in duration, might not a very mild punishment suffice as well as a more intense punishment? For the sum total would be equal. One infinity of duration and of suffering is equal to another; so there would be no need to inflict any severe suffering; infinity of duration would make the suffering infinite in amount, however slight it might be in quality. So if an eternity of suffering could be endured, which it cannot, the smallest degree of discomfort would be sufficient to meet the demand.

And it is not to be forgotten that all these assumptions are based upon the theory that God is only strict justice, whereas we know that He is love as well; yes, and wisdom; so we believe He would find a better method than the one we have sketched, even if it could be realized.

Thus, the whole argument breaks down. It is but a human invention, and not a good invention; designed, it would seem, to support a foregone conclusion. Ten thousand times better than all such absurd elaboration is the simple statement that "His mercy endureth forever."

HESITATING AND HALTING.

Some time ago I presented this argument to a Presbyterian minister, not suspecting in the least that he was wanting in orthodoxy. He said the argument was conclusive, and that there is no such thing as eternal punishment. I have since spoken with many ministers on the same topic; and in no case was there any opposition. Many are hesitating and halting between this view and the one that has so widely prevailed. Especially is there a natural hesitation to speak about the matter publicly. The main question is, Is it true? If it is, it is good news indeed for our poor, suffering world.

I may state here that there is another possibility which, if it had been adopted, would have avoided all necessity for punishment. I refer to the fact that when Adam and Eve sinned, God might have cut them off, and so avoided the hideous tale of suffering that has resulted since. Or He might have rendered them childless, and have thus anticipated and avoided all difficulty. Either of these measures would certainly have been fraught with far less suffering than the consignment of so many uncounted millions, or even one individual, to eternal torment. The fact that any better measure was available, is a strong argument for the ultimate restoration of the race.

We believe that God has made a provision for all mankind, ten thousand times better than the cutting off or rendering childless of the first pair. When we realize that the whole race is yet to be restored, we begin to see something of the unbounded love and wisdom that rule through all time and all eternity. Even the suffering of the present may be made conducive to our ultimate happiness and glory. A little farther on we may see that sin and suffering have been permitted for a time as an object lesson for all eternity. In view of such a possibility we feel like exclaiming, "O, the depth of the riches, both of the wisdom, and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are His judgments, and His ways past finding out!"

Very recently there came to me a new idea; and it came with such suddenness that I can believe it was a suggestion from another Mind. I was listening to a very able and thoughtful sermon. The theme was the retention of the Canaanites in the land, instead of driving them out. We read that "When Israel was strong, they put the Canaanites to tribute, and did not utterly drive them out." The very natural and telling application that was made by the preacher was, the many compromises with evil that are made in our own time for the sake of gain.

BARBAROUS IDEAS.

But the preacher took the ground that it was a very cruel and barbarous thing to exterminate those nations, or to put them to the sword. He dwelt on the barbarous ideas that then prevailed, contrasting them with the toleration that prevails now. He said that we convert men now, instead of killing them. He took the ground that the extermination of those people was due to an entire misconception of the divine command.

It struck me at the moment that such an idea was entirely contrary to the fact. Here is the command, and the substance of it was often repeated: "Ye shall utterly destroy all the places wherein the nations which ye shall possess served their gods, upon the high mountains, and upon the hills, and under every green tree; and ye shall overthrow their altars, and break their pillars, and burn their groves with fire; and ye shall hew down the graven images of their gods, and destroy the names of them out of that place."

The divine command, then, was not misconceived. We may see plainly now its wisdom and real kindness. But Israel made an unwise and unholy compromise. By this compromise that was made, the surrounding heathen tribes in some cases were spared. The consequence was that there was a constant incitement to idolatry. Again and again, Israel fell into this sin, and paid severely for their crime. I think it is not too much to say that had Israel inflexibly carried out the divine command, the Jewish nation might have been the strongest in the world to-day.

But what has all this to do with the theory of Restoration? A great deal. In the light of that larger truth, extermination was not the harsh measure that at the first glance it seems. It was simply the removal of those incorrigible races to other scenes where they would have better chances of reform; and it was the removal of a constant snare to Israel.

Under the old idea, those heathen tribes were consigned to eternal torment. Even for the women and children there was no escape. They were not fit for Heaven; so they must all go to hell; that was the naked, bald idea. Even if the children were saved, how were they prepared for the scenes of bliss? But when we once entertain the idea of a future process of reformation, a door of hope is opened for the worst of them.

A SHAFT OF RIDICULE.

That seems to be the grand solution of what has always seemed a barbarous proceeding. The want of such a solution has furnished Ingersoll and men like him with many a shaft of ridicule at the so-called merciful God of the Old Testament. This larger view shows Him to be all He claims; that His mercy is not confined to this short span of time; that it is from everlasting to everlasting.

One great advantage in believing in Restoration is, that any good influence effected on any person will have its legitimate effect in the next life. I need to explain. There are many persons who are not believers who yet rise to a high plane of character. But no matter how high they may rise, if they are not Christians the old theory would consign them to everlasting torment. No doubt, degrees of suffering are recognized, varying with the goodness or badness of the sinner. Still, if a person is not a Christian when he dies, the idea is that he must go to eternal torment, be his moral character what it may. Thus, any good influence that may be exerted upon him here is largely or entirely lost. Even the incentive to do him good in a great degree is neutralized. An inevitable, though it may be an unconscious, arrest, is thus put upon every good impulse to benefit men except they are true Christians.

But consider how different is the incentive on the Restoration theory. In that case, you can have the certainty that any good accomplished in this life will have its due effect in the next. A man may not be a Christian, but he may have risen to such a high character in this life that he will not have to pass through very severe pains and penalties in the next. There is, therefore, every incentive to do the most and the best we can for all men, be their character what it may, and whether they are Christians or not. We may be sure that any good effect attained will not be lost.

Is not this a strong plea for good works? And is it not a strong argument that Restoration is true? Is it to be supposed that the divine government is based on any possibility of good efforts being abortive? Surely, in God's perfect government of the world it is so arranged that every good influence will have its due effect. To my mind, this consideration makes strongly for the truth of the theory of Restoration.

It may possibly be charged on me that all through this discussion I have ignored divine justice. I would say that nothing could be farther from my intention. To be sure, I have tried to magnify divine love. "God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son" for the world. There we see a depth of love that will never be fathomed. But then, He gave His Son. There was infinite justice, too. "He spared not His own Son." "It pleased the Lord to bruise Him." O, mystery of mysteries! The union of infinite love with infinite justice! I believe that will be the marvel of eternity. Let that stand, whatever I may seem to say to the contrary. In dealing with problems that are so high, and yet so deep, it would not be surprising if there are some apparent contradictions. Our limited range of thought, and our poor vehicle of speech, make seeming contradiction almost inevitable. But there will be harmony by and by.

I would say here that in what is advanced there are some repetitions. But often these are in new connections, and are therefore in order. Besides, I have not been careful to avoid repetition; for I have in view many readers to whom such topics as are treated here are comparatively new, and by all such, repetition is needed.

The foregoing are some, but only some, of the arguments that occur to me in support of the theory of Restoration. It may be that in some cases I may be considered too dogmatic on a theme which is involved in much obscurity. But apart from the manner, judge of the matter. Is it not reasonable? And is not the very conception of it like the rising of a new sun in a new world?

I have claimed that such views are reasonable. They may appear strange—even impious—at the first glance; but the longer the mind dwells upon them the more reasonable they will appear.

The old view is not reasonable; and that is one of its most damaging features. For all true religion is reasonable. In fact, religion is one of the most reasonable things in the world. It is so in God's mind, who sees all parts of it in all their relations. But our view for the present is limited. We see only a part of the divine scheme. But it is a great consolation that "what we know not now we shall know hereafter."

Let us always remember that our highest thoughts of God's wisdom and love are as nothing to the reality. In this regard I believe the future has revelations that will surprise us. Oh, yes; the words will come true by and by, in a larger sense than our poor faith can anticipate: "Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning."



XVI.

THE CASE OF SAUL.

Divine Methods of Reclaiming Men—"The Chief of Sinners"—Changed in a Moment—No Violence Done to His Freedom—Yet Sovereign Power—The Mystery of Grace—View of McCosh—Supremacy of Conscience—Sir Isaac Newton's Alertness of Mind—Reason and Intuition—Capturing the Most Incorrigible—Evil Environment—Suffering a Necessary Factor—Agony of Remorse.

We must remember that God has ways and means of reclaiming men that we do not see ordinarily put forth in this life. But we do see singular exhibitions of grace and power sometimes. I have referred to the case of Saul. Witness his conversion. He was a blaspheming, malignant persecutor. He says he was "exceedingly mad" against God's saint. It is said that he "breathed out threatening and slaughter." He said that he was the "chief of sinners." Possibly that was no mere rhetoric. He may actually have been the worst of mankind.

But in a moment he was changed. He was utterly transformed. His blasphemy was turned to prayer. From that day forward he would do anything, or go anywhere, or suffer the utmost persecution, if only he might serve Him whom he had before persecuted and blasphemed. And what was it that effected such a marvellous change? The Lord manifested Himself to him, and spoke to him; that was all. How we adore the grace and power that can work such marvels!

And in the life to come who can say but such marvels will be used, and with similar effect? We simply do not know, but we can see that such means can be used, and we can imagine that they will be, especially in the case of those who had no chance before. In such a case, the period of suffering may not need to be greatly prolonged. In other cases we can imagine that the suffering may be long continued before the sinner repents.

And it is wonderful how, in the case of Saul, no violence was done to the freedom of his will. He was no mere machine. He was simply taken captive. He willingly, gladly, surrendered. He could say afterward, "I was not disobedient to the heavenly vision." It was a case of divine sovereignty combined with human freedom. It may be that we shall never understand how these two forces unite. But one thing we do know; it is the Lord's way, and it is marvellous in our eyes. Meantime, we take these words of Tennyson as the best definition of the mystery that we know:

"Our wills are ours, we know not how; Our wills are ours, to make them thine."

Who can say but some such divine yet free constraint may be exercised in the life to come?

It will be seen that I do not think of freedom as the prime faculty of the soul. I rather think, with McCosh, that conscience is supreme. And why? For two reasons: First, conscience deals only with questions in the moral realm. This gives it a peculiar dignity and sacredness. It does not concern itself with questions of mere expediency, but with questions of right and wrong, and discriminates intuitively between truth and error. Yes, even in mathematical truth I think there is an element of morality. If a man could believe that two and two are five, he would appear to me a worse man, morally, for so believing. So then, conscience rather than freewill is the highest quality of the soul, because it deals with questions solely in the higher realm.

SIR ISAAC NEWTON'S OPINION.

Then, as I have said, there is another reason why we think of conscience as our highest faculty. That is, that it acts instinctively. It has a sensitiveness of feeling towards questions of right and wrong, and of truth and error. This seems to me to be a higher faculty than mere reason. It seems to ally conscience more closely with the divine. We cannot think of God arriving at conclusions by reasoning. He is conscious of the truth without any intermediate process of reasoning. It is said of Sir Isaac Newton that he perceived at a glance the truth of many propositions that had to be tediously reasoned out step by step by inferior minds. We recognize at once the superiority of such an order of mind; and in the realm of morals it is such a faculty with which conscience is endowed.

Thus in both respects that have been indicated, freewill seems to occupy a lower plane. For one thing it has largely to do with matters in a lower realm. It concerns itself, not chiefly with higher questions, but often with matters of the most trifling character. Its daily operation is mainly with the commonplace. And besides, it has not the gift of intuition but of reason, and often of conflicting reason. For such reasons as these freewill—important as it is—must be conceived as a lower faculty than that of conscience. Because conscience operates solely in a higher realm, and because its operations are of a higher quality, I think of it as a superior function of the soul.

If there is too much theory here, consider the matter for a moment in its practical aspect. We often see that one strong will can dominate a weaker one, without in the least impairing its freedom. There is no doubt that the weaker will is as free as ever. It freely yields to the influence of the stronger will. And it may yield intelligently. It is easy to conceive that influences may be brought to bear on it by which it is captured, without losing a particle of its freedom.

THE WORST OF MANKIND.

We may reasonably conceive, then, of Christ acting on the most incorrigible of mankind, and entirely capturing them without in the least depriving them of freewill. What influences He may bring to bear upon them, who can say? What unfoldings of eternal love He may reveal are impossible to be imagined. We can thus believe that the worst of mankind might be captured and redeemed. I appeal to the capture of Saul of Tarsus as an example of such a possibility. What a door of hope is opened here for our lost race!

* * * * *

It may be asked why such a redemption is not effected in the present life. Let us beware of intruding into divine mysteries. We might as well ask why Saul was not arrested and redeemed before he made such a havoc of the church, and went down to such a low depth of infamy. Or we might inquire why he was arrested at all. Or we might inquire why God went to that idolatrous people in Ur of the Chaldees, and took Abraham from among them, and made him not only the progenitor of the chosen race, but one of the greatest and most noble men in history. Yet God in his sovereign pleasure took that course, leaving the rest of those heathen people in their idolatry. And so through all the ages we see the manifestation of God's electing favor. I say, we must beware of intruding into the divine mysteries. To all such inquiries we can only say, "Even so, Father, for so it seemed good in Thy sight."

THEY MAY YIELD SPEEDILY.

It is well, however, to remember that the environment may be much more favorable in a future world than here. There are many who are almost of necessity sinners from their youth up, because of their evil surroundings. It would be hard to expect them to be much better than they are. But their surroundings may be entirely different in the next life; and they may yield speedily to the better influences. We see such effects so often in this life that we may well cherish hopes for their larger operation in the next. No details are revealed; but we can imagine this as a reasonable possibility. In such a case there may be the most surprising reformations.

It may be objected that I have taken very little notice of suffering as a necessary factor in the process of future redemption. I may say that I have always had it in view; but we have no details as to the nature of it, or the duration of it, or how it will be inflicted. That there will be suffering I have no doubt. But I regard suffering rather as reformatory than punitive.

Take the example of Saul, to whom we have just referred. If ever there was a case of sudden conversion, surely we see it there. It did not take him long to pass out of the kingdom of darkness into the kingdom of light. But he went through a very agony of remorse. He passed through such a horror of darkness that for three days and nights he did not eat. Certainly, the intensest suffering accompanied his conversion.

In the light of such facts as these we can see how possible, and how reasonable it is to expect the most wonderful transformation in the next life. The greatest sinners may become the greatest saints. I have taken the case of Saul to show how such marvels of redemption may be effected in a future life. Possibly his case is the most notable that has occurred. And yet, who can say? From cases that we have known we can well believe that there are thousands of such cases that have never got into any history. But we have seen enough to warrant the belief that in the next life there will be marvels of spiritual transformation.



XVII.

ETERNAL SEPARATIONS.

An Everlasting Pang—David and Absalom—Strained Ideas of Late Momentary Repentance—King Solomon—King Saul—The Gracious Character of Sympathy—George Eliot's View—A strong Argument for Restoration —Heresy of a Minister's Wife—The Minister's Orthodox View—Wonderful Goodness of a Criminal—Where Will He Finally Go?—Our Very Imperfect Friends—Glossing Over Their Faults When They Are Gone—Our Instinctive Hope for the Worst—Restoration the True Solution—A Final Era of Joy.

We might glance here at another difficulty which is solved by the theory of Restoration. Apart from this theory, those who are saved we think must have everlasting regret that friends whom they have known and loved are not with them. Suppose those friends are annihilated. Will not the knowledge of that fact be an everlasting pang to the friends who have attained eternal joy? To think that those who were so dear to them were worthy of no better fate! To think of the honor and glory which might have been eternally theirs, which now they have forever missed! What a joy it would be, too, to have their companionship! But that joy is eternally forfeited. We think that if regret in heaven can be, it would arise from the fact that those whom we hoped to meet there we shall never see.

Take one case as an illustration. Is it to be conceived that David would not have an everlasting regret in regard to his son Absalom? We know how his heart was broken when he received the tidings of Absalom's death; yes, though Absalom was utterly opposed to him, and was trying to wrest the kingdom from him. It is one of the most pathetic scenes in Scripture history, when the king received the news of his son's death. We see him going up the stairs to the chamber over the gates, and we hear his sobs and cries, and his broken words: "O Absalom, my son, my son Absalom; would God I had died for thee; O Absalom, my son, my son."

Now can it be supposed that David will have no regret for his son Absalom if he does not meet him in the abodes of bliss? The tenderness of heart that characterized him here will surely not be suppressed there. Will not the absence of his son be an everlasting pang?

It may be supposed—it has been supposed—that somehow at the last moment, Absalom repented, and was saved. We put no limit on the grace of God; but such a supposition is entirely gratuitous. It is a far-fetched invention to square with the idea of supposed final perseverence. The difficulty is, to believe that Absalom died in a state of grace. How much more likely it is that Absalom came to himself in the next life; and that his father could endure—yea, rejoice in—his absence for a time, knowing that the result would be everlasting reunion.

And so with Solomon. We read of the high hopes that David cherished about Solomon, and how Solomon so terribly declined in character in his later life, and died, so far as the record goes, in apostasy from God. If he is absent from heaven, will not his absence cause David an everlasting pang?

And so with King Saul, and many more whom we recall, both in Bible history, and in our own experience. The unsolved difficulty stares us in the face; but it is no longer a difficulty, but everlasting harmony, when we believe in Restoration.

GEORGE ELIOT'S IDEA.

And if the fate of extinction would thus cause everlasting regret how much more would the knowledge that our friends are in everlasting torment. Surely our knowledge of such a fate would be unendurable. Would there not be everlasting distress in that world of joy? In fact it would be no world of joy. We shall have the same nature then as now. It will be only ennobled and purified. Certainly sympathy—which is one of the noblest of our feelings—will be more tender and intense than now. George Eliot said that she estimated her entire moral condition by her capacity of sympathy. We may imagine then the horror of the situation if we have to think of our friends as being in everlasting torment.

Surely this is a strong argument for Restoration. We might endure, and even rejoice in, a mild degree of suffering on the part of friends, if we knew that such was a necessary process of purification, and that by and by they would rise to eternal happiness. But to think of them as being forever in torment—inflicted for punishment, and not for purification—would be unspeakable torture. We have indeed heard of zealots who taught that the saved would even rejoice in the sufferings of the damned, as the effect of God's glorious justice. For the credit of humanity we would believe that such lurid representations were rare, and but the product of temporary excitement, or perhaps a mistaken zeal for orthodoxy.

* * * * *

I was lately staying at a Presbyterian Manse. The minister was from home, but his wife engaged me in several topics of conversation. Among other things she instanced the case of a family some members of which were saved, and some were lost; and she asked me if there was any means of explaining away the agony of such a separation. Thinking she might not be ready for a thorough discussion of the subject, I tried to dismiss it by some casual remark. But it would not do; again and again she returned to the point. At length I stated plainly that I did not believe in endless torment, or eternal separation. At once, and with evident relief, she responded that such was her own view.

Now I think that case is typical of thousands and thousands more. They have been brought up in the orthodox idea of eternal torment; it is enshrined in their thought by the sacredness of childish association; they have the conception that it is an evidence of soundness in the faith. But by and by, when they begin to think, their heart rebels; the idea hitherto accounted true seems opposed to every humane instinct, and much more opposed to that mercy that is from everlasting to everlasting. There is thus a sea of conflicting ideas, and they know not which way to turn. My hope is, that when they read these pages they will see that a large pan of the church has been for a long time under a dark cloud of error, and that their humane instinct is but a dim reflection of Eternal Love.

The lady referred to told me that her husband's view and hers do not agree. It is his idea, she said, that the point of view of the saved will gradually be uplifted until it coincides with God's, and that then they will be able to contemplate the tortures of the damned with perfect satisfaction! And this is orthodoxy! O, for the day when this dark pall will be lifted from the heart of the world!

* * * * *

Thus men have distorted the finest feelings of their nature that they might view with complacency the eternal torments of the damned. They really believed, or tried to believe, that such was God's feeling and attitude; and to that divine ideal they felt that they must aspire. It was surely hard work, and would naturally issue in a degree of sanctimoniousness and unreality. Yet it was necessary, if the doctrine of eternal torment were true. But the moment that doctrine is seen to be untrue, what a change of ideal! Then it is discerned that all this hardening process is opposed to the best that is in human nature, and utterly contrary to the character of God. We can never estimate the spiritual loss that it has been to mankind to have had such ideas of the Infinitely Merciful One.

* * * * *

When it is once discerned that there is no endless torment, but that suffering in the next life is a divinely appointed means of reformation, how the mind is enlarged in the contemplation of the wisdom, power, and love of God! Yea, and what an uplift, and what a new direction, is given to our ideas of human perfection and blessedness! If there were nothing else, we have surely here a strong argument for final Restoration.

Eternal blessedness is consonant with our nature; and though details of it are not revealed, it is reasonable to believe that it will ultimately be attained. But eternal suffering is abnormal and repugnant. Especially is it so as we rise in the moral scale. As a worthy ultimatum it cannot be entertained. It is far more reasonable to believe that under the perfect government of God, sin and all its resulting pain will finally be done away.

Further; it would be hard to find a case of such utter wickedness as not to have some mixture of good as well. That gives us the reasonable hope that ultimately the good will triumph. And sometimes we find great goodness mixed with great evil. Just now I notice a very affecting report in the newspaper of a criminal in whom there must have been a wonderful mixture of good and bad. He was convicted of a serious crime, and sentenced to three years in the penitentiary. When he was leaving the city under arrest, and being taken on board the train that was to convey him to the place of confinement, a number of his late companions in crime appeared on the railway platform. They had come to bid him good-bye. And it was no formal leave-taking. With tears and sobs they flung their arms about his neck, and kissed him. So affecting was the scene that the policeman in charge was utterly broken down. But the man had to go to prison; and the chances are that the evil influences of prison life will dissipate much of that extraordinary goodness which must have been in him to develop so much affection.

Be that as it may, the question must suggest itself to every thoughtful mind, "Where will that man go should he die in the meantime?" He is far too good for the world of woe; yet he is not fit for the better world until his criminal propensities are eliminated. How reasonable it is to believe in—we might say what a moral necessity there is for—a process of development of the good, and elimination of the evil. On the principle that what is good will survive, and that the evil will be extinguished, we can hope for nothing less. And when we remember that all men, and all conditions, and all worlds, are under the control of Him whose love is from everlasting to everlasting, we may believe that such a man's final destiny is the inheritance of the saints.

Another argument is derived very naturally from the case of departed friends whose spiritual condition was doubtful. Have we not known of acquaintances who passed away, of whose spiritual condition we could have no well grounded assurance? But the moment they were gone we became charitable, glossed over their faults, and hoped for the best. Would it not be a far more reasonable thing to do, to imagine them as having passed into some purifying process, from which they would emerge in due time? In the case of many we can believe that such a purifying process might involve no great suffering; and we could endure the thought of it when we believed in its glorious issue. In fact we would become more like God Himself, who is inflicting pain every day with a view to moral perfection by and by.

Well do I remember spending an evening with a personal friend. He was a man of sterling character. In his ordinary demeanor, however, he was a very John Bull of a man; you would not think there was a particle of sentiment in his whole composition. During our conversation, reference was made to the case of departed friends whose spiritual condition was doubtful; and before I knew, my friend utterly broke down and wept. No doubt he was thinking of one in such a case. I could not at that time offer him the consolation of the larger hope; and it is doubtful if with his education he could have accepted such consolation. What a solace it will be, when we can think of departed friends in whom the work of grace was manifestly very incomplete—possibly not begun—as having gone, not into a state of hopeless, everlasting torment—but as having passed into a state where the work of grace will be completed.

But speaking of the reformatory process, there is one circumstance that may seem to indicate that it may be very long. I refer to the fact that Satan has been so long incorrigible. I take him of course to be a conscious personality. In the Word of God I suppose there are a hundred references to him as a person. If you have any doubt on that point look up the references, and I think you will be convinced.

Now, since his temptation of Adam, and we know not how long before, Satan has been persevering in a course of evil. Does not that fact seem to indicate that sinners must have a long period of suffering in the next life before they are reclaimed, if they ever are?

WE HAVE NO DATA.

To this view a number of answers may be given. In the first place, Satan is of another race; we know very little of his former history, or the circumstances of his fall; and we know not if any means for his recovery have been provided. In the next place, a few thousand years may be but a span in the long sweep of his existence. Then further, he does not seem to be in a state of suffering at present. There is a hint in the Book of Revelation that he will be so by and by; and we know not what may be in store for him. As intimated before, some think he will be restored; others think he will be annihilated. With such ignorance of the circumstances of the case, it is plain that we have no data for forming an opinion one way or the other. At the same time, we cannot help being in sympathy with the words of Burns; they certainly touch a chord in all our hearts:

"Then fare ye weel, auld nickey Ben; O wad ye tak' a thought and men' Ye aiblins micht—I dinna ken— Hae still a stake."

As I have said, there are those who teach that Satan will be ultimately extinguished. And they lay down that theory with great positiveness. While there are some hints to that effect in the Word of God, it does not seem to me that they are clear enough to warrant us in being positive. We would hardly expect so much. It is not our business to know much of "other world" affairs for the present.

So far as we may judge, it would appear instead that Satan's long continuance in sin gives some hope of his ultimate Restoration. For the question will naturally arise: Why should God spare him so long, if He foresees that he must be extinguished at last? Why not extinguish him at once, and thus avoid so much temptation to evil? I am by no means curious on such a question. I merely cite these possibilities to show that the subject is utterly beyond us.

It really comes to this, that on such high topics it is wise to be reverently silent. But with the fact that we do not know, we ally the privilege of eternal hope. So we would say with Tennyson:

"Behold, we know not anything; We can but trust that good shall fall, At last far off, at last to all; And every winter change to spring."

If you dissent from some of the views I have advanced, I would ask you not to be hasty in forming conclusions. It may be that after some years you will see differently. I was myself many years before coming to entertain these views. But they were growing on me, perhaps unconsciously, and at length they took this pronounced form. It may be so with you. The ideas which you entertain now may be perhaps the result of early training as much as of patient study. Let us ever look for divine guidance. We have the promise. "Ye shall know the truth; and the truth shall make you free."

* * * * *

I cannot but forecast the new era of joy that will come to the world when the doctrine of Restoration is generally accepted. It will be like a burst of sunlight from behind a dark cloud. The world is sad; and I am convinced that one cause of its sadness is the dark view of endless torment that has so long prevailed. The view, from long habit, may be held almost unconsciously; but the dark shadow of it has cast a heavy gloom over human life. What an uplift all hearts will have, what a radiance of joy will be infused into life, we can now but dimly anticipate. Then we can adopt the dictum of Browning, and it will be no cheap optimism:

"God's in His heaven; All's right with the world."

After all, that is only our poor human way of expressing the majestic thought, "The Lord God omnipotent reigneth!"



XVIII.

NOT REALLY BELIEVED.

Present Enthusiasm for Missions—Former Lassitude—The Basis of Missionary Enterprise—Supposed Damnation of the Heathen—If Really Believed, Would Drive Us to Frenzy—Ministers' Monday Meeting —Pretence Cuts the Nerve of Enthusiasm—Restoration the True Incentive —Effective Because Reasonable—Torment Not Really Believed—The Heart Often Truer Than the Head—Necessity for Preparatory State—Could not Have Details Revealed—Orthodoxy of the Torment View—Trying to Believe It—Be Not Afraid of the Truth—Extreme Calvinists Signally Honored—The Reason Why—Our Innate God-given Convictions—Meagre Expenditure for Missions—Tacit Acknowledgement That Endless Suffering Is Not Believed.

Would not the doctrine of Restoration, as I have tried to commend it, cut the nerve of enthusiasm for missions? No, I think not; but it would provide a saner basis for them. For what is the true basis of missions? Is it not the command of our Lord to preach the Gospel to every creature?

That the command extends down to our own time is clear from the fact that the disciples were commanded to go into all the world. They could not do so in their own time; so the command extends to their followers. Moreover, Christ said he would be with them until the end of the world. But they were not to continue to the end of the world; so the command was intended not only for them but those who would succeed them. Thus the duty comes home to the Christian church now, and cannot be evaded.

INCREASED INTEREST AND SYMPATHY

And all the Christian churches are agreed that this duty has been laid upon them, The churches are alive to this duty as they never were before. And this is one of the most hopeful signs of the age. It does seem at times as if society were getting worse at the core; yet in regard to sympathy and helpfulness, especially in regions remote, it is certainly improving. And this increased interest and sympathy relates both to the bodies and the souls of men. This age has witnessed marvels of kindness and enterprise that would have been impossible only a few years ago.

Surely it is time. It must be confessed that the church in general has been very slow to take up the subject of missions with any zeal. There was great activity in the first century of the Christian era, and a little later. If it had only been sustained until the present time, possibly the whole world would have been evangelized. But there was a deplorable lapse of interest and of effort. And it was long continued. We might say that for sixteen hundred years the church was almost indifferent on the matter. But now there is renewed enthusiasm and enterprise.

This long lapse of interest should certainly make us moderate in our interpretation of Scripture. Here were the Saviour's words, clearly before the eyes of the church for sixteen hundred years; and it seems we did not see or hear them. He commanded us—and it was one of his last commands—to preach the Gospel to the world. But we took almost no notice. The world might have been dying in heathenism, but we seemed not to care. We had not the spiritual alertness to realize that the words of Christ had any application to ourselves. Such torpor of spiritual understanding and sentiment, I say, ought to keep us from being unduly positive, or self-assertive, in our interpretation of Scripture. Happily there is renewed interest now; and in this all the churches are agreed.

WHAT BECOMES OF THE HEATHEN?

But what is the basis of all missionary enterprise? I have said that it is the command of Christ. It is not necessary to believe that the heathen who do not hear the Gospel are lost. There were certainly some heathens who were not far from the kingdom of God. The possibility of men being raised to such a high spiritual level, even without the Gospel, gives us a hint of the ways and means that God can use for the ultimate salvation of the heathen world.

And it is to be noted that Christ made no special appeal to us in order to evoke our enthusiasm for the heathen. He gave no hint that there is but the one alternative of damnation if they do not receive and accept the Gospel. He had evidently no morbid hysteria on that ground. He simply gave the command; and that ought to be sufficient. He knows what possibilities of grace are in reserve; but that was not the time nor the place to speak of them.

Besides, if we could realize that every heathen who does not hear and accept the Gospel is doomed to eternal fire, the thought would drive us to frenzy. We cannot bear the thought of a person, though he were an enemy, being even burned to death. In such a case, there would be a crowd of ardent sympathizers, though it were known that their sympathy would be unavailing. Failing all relief, there would be sighs, and groans, and prayers on every hand. It is not possible to witness unmoved such a scene of suffering. And it lasts but a short time. But the supposed case of the heathen is endless agony; and it does not move us. The only conclusion is that it is not really believed. We may think we believe it; we may count it orthodox to believe it; but if we did really believe it, it would drive us to insanity.

A QUASI ENTHUSIASM.

Therefore any argument drawn from the supposed damnation of the heathen is unreal. We may stir up a quasi enthusiasm; we may be moved for the time; but we are not by any means moved to the level of the fate which we deplore. If we really believed it, as so many profess, we would spend our last dollar, and make all but superhuman efforts, to take the Gospel to the heathen. But instead of that, we are content to hear at long intervals a few points of information from the minister, take up a collection for Foreign Missions, to which perhaps we contribute a few cents or dollars, and then dismiss the whole matter from our minds.

Some time ago I was present at a ministers' Monday morning meeting. A brother read a paper on Foreign Missions. He and his congregation are noted for their enthusiasm and liberality in that sphere. When he was making his plea for increased liberality and enterprise, he pictured the heathen dropping into eternal torment one by one—I think at the average rate of one every minute. When he had done there was a period of profound silence on the part of the brethren who were present. I saw that many of them were confused. They could not in their hearts endorse the brother's argument; and it would be unorthodox to contravene it.

COULD NOT REST IN THEIR BEDS.

It will thus be seen that the church is in a very unsettled position on this question. Good men are trying to believe what in their hearts they repudiate. They think it a sign of soundness in the faith to believe in the doctrine of eternal torment. If they really believed it they could not rest in their beds at night, nor follow their usual avocations by day. But happily they do not really believe it.

Thus the theory of eternal torment has this everlasting drawback that men will not believe it. It may be, and has been, accounted the orthodox view; and men may try to believe it, but as a matter of fact they do not. To think that a person will suffer forever, and ever, is beyond actual belief. Just think for a while of torment without end. Lengthen out the time in your imagination, and when you have reached the utmost stretch of imagination, then think that eternity is only beginning, and that through eternal cycles of aeons it will go on forever and ever, and ever.

It used to be a favorite method of illustrating the eternity of torment to suppose that after a million of years one grain of soil were taken from the earth; then after another million of years, another grain; then after another million of years, another grain; and so on until the whole of the earth had disappeared; then repeat the proceeding ten thousand millions of times; and then eternity would be only beginning! Imagine, if you can, a soul in torment all these uncounted ages; and then think of the process being repeated over and over again, without end, without end, without end! No man can believe it.

But if you tell him he is to suffer until he is reclaimed, he can believe that; it comes easily within the scope of his imagination—yes, and of his reason too. Hence it will have more effect on a man's conviction, and will produce a greater influence on his life, to be told that if he dies impenitent he will suffer until he repents, and is reformed.

Now when we consider the natural affinity which the mind has for truth, and when we recognize the impossibility of believing in endless torment, we have a strong presumption that the theory is not true. At all events, in the present unsettled state of the question would it not be a wholesome thing to take the more limited view of suffering, and have men believe it in their inmost souls, rather than the view of eternal torment, with a hesitating, half hearted presentation of it, and consequently without producing genuine conviction? This is a serious question; let all serious minds ponder it.

The want of candor in expressing definite conviction on this subject seems to me to be a formidable barrier to church union. The following article of mine on this point lately appeared in The Homiletic Review:

The contemplated organic union of the Presbyterian, Methodist, and Congregational Churches in Canada has not yet been consummated. One thing that involved some delay has been the discovery of a basis of doctrine that would suit the three churches. At length such a basis has been formulated. It contains one statement, however, which I am rather surprised to see. It says that the doom of the finally impenitent will be "eternal death." Now what does that mean? Might it not be honestly taken to mean two very different things? Might it not be taken to mean "eternal torment" or "eternal extinction?" The manifest ambiguity of such a statement would seem to me highly objectionable. I quoted the phrase to two thoughtful friends, and asked them what it meant. They made a long pause, and said they did not know.

If the phrase has been adopted on purpose to make it the expression of the two views referred to, such a course is surely wanting in candor and honesty. To be sure it is a Scripture phrase; but inasmuch as it is taken to express two very different views, it ought not to be adopted. By all means let us be clear and simple and straightforward.

There has been too much vagueness on the part of preachers on this most solemn theme. Lately I heard a preacher speaking of unsaved men as "miserable failures, going out into the darkness." Now what did he mean? Either he has no definite idea himself, or he judged it unwise to express it; or he was afraid to express it. Does not such a statement as I have quoted pander directly to infidelity?

Surely the time has come when we ought candidly to recognize that on this question there may be a legitimate difference of opinion. There are men whose godliness and ability are beyond all question, who hold diverse views on this matter. Whether it be the theory of eternal torment or extinction or Restoration that is held, let us concede all honor and confidence to the men who hold it. The more of that spirit we really possess, the sooner will the divine light break upon our souls.

With regard to a basis on which conscientious men can really unite, is it well to go so much into detail? Mere creeds will never conserve the truth. Men will think, whether we will or no; and men will have diverse views. Do we not put a premium on dishonesty by constructing a creed for all details, and expecting men to subscribe to that creed? Have we not had too much of that in the past? A noted official in the Methodist body told me lately that he does not believe in eternal torment, but that if it were known, he would lose his position. But eternal torment is in the Methodist creed, and he had profest his adherence to it. It is so with many Presbyterians. I have spoken privately with several, and not one profest to believe in that doctrine. But we say, "Truth is mighty and will prevail." Yes, I believe it will; but it would surely prevail faster if we were always loyal to it. Besides, is there anything that makes more directly for the degeneracy of character than such evasion?

To avoid all peril of this kind, how would it do to take for a basis of doctrine this simple statement, "I believe the Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments to be the Word of God?" Or, "I believe the Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments to contain the Word of God?" Then, with further "light breaking from God's holy word," we would not need to expunge anything from our creed, or add anything to it.

Lately I heard a most fervid appeal on behalf of missions. But the speaker really gave no worthy, definite incentive, by which the appeal would be made effective. He gave no hint whatever as to the fate of the heathen if we failed to Christianize them. He did not say they would have to pass through pains in the next life necessary to their reformation. Nor did he say they would be extinguished at death, or some time after. Nor did he say they would drop into eternal fire. Any of these three possibilities if duly presented, would be more or less an incentive to action. But he simply referred to the heathen being saved in some vague way, which almost meant nothing. The nerve of enthusiasm for missions is cut if the appeal cannot be enforced by some definite incentive to action; but usually there is no such incentive advanced. There is no doubt or hesitation as to the positive part of salvation; but as to the negative part of it there is no clear-cut deliverance.

The presumption is that there is usually no definite conviction. In the evangelical churches there is some faint survival of the doctrine of endless torment; but the preacher rarely or never presents it; it may be because he does not really believe it; or because he knows that the people will not believe it. I say, would it not be better to present the idea of Restoration, and present the view strongly, with a pronounced accent of conviction? Not only is such a course in my view required by the claims of honesty, but the effect would be better beyond all computation.

I have just referred to the incentive that we have to impel us to a world-wide Evangelization. We have seen that the command of Christ was practically unheeded for many hundreds of years. We can imagine that the church will never again lapse to that low level of insensibility.

But, along with the command, we have a worthy incentive in the doctrine of Restoration. If we can only realize that by faithful missionary effort the heathen will require a pruning and development when they pass out of this life, will not that be an effective and worthy incentive to the best efforts of which we are capable?

It may be thought by some that the old doctrine of endless torment would be more effective as an incentive. At the first glance it may appear so. What could be more effective than the warning that men will drop into an endless hell if they do not receive the offers of grace before they die? That was relied upon formerly. It was thought that no other warning would have such force. But as a matter of fact it failed, except that in some cases it produced a temporary panic. And why did it fail? Simply because it was not heartily believed. Men might think they believed it; they might try to believe it; they might think it orthodox to believe it; but as a matter of fact they did not believe it. If they had, they would have moved heaven and earth to avoid such a doom, both for themselves and others.

The doctrine of Restoration has no such disadvantage to contend with. It is credible in the highest degree. It is an urgent incentive, and a reasonable one. If a sinner goes out into the next life unreconciled to God, there must be a terrible looking for of judgment. He will be reclaimed; but the age-long pruning he may have to undergo is a fearful thing to contemplate. If he knew his Lord's will, and did it not, he will be beaten with many stripes.

There is nothing incredible to him in that. He sees the reasonableness of it. An appeal of that kind will move him, when any picture of hell fire will have but a small effect. I believe this is the standpoint to which the churches will have to come.

In corroboration of the idea that even Christian people do not believe in eternal torment, I would say that lately I met a lady, and I inquired the latest news of her friend who had slipped and broken his leg. She said that she had just come from the hospital, and that he was dying. She added that it would be a relief when he was gone, for he would then be out of pain.

Now this lady is a member of a church that professes to believe in eternal torment, but she had no idea of her friend going into everlasting suffering when he died. He made no profession of religion; but that circumstance seemed to give her no concern. Is not such the general feeling? And thus it is that many practically repudiate their own creed. They hang on in theory to the doctrine of endless suffering, because it is in the creed of the church; but practically they deny it. Would it not be far better to believe steadfastly in a state of discipline and purification? Would not that be a much better incentive to prepare for the end of life, than the half heathenish idea that there is nothing whatever to fear? As a gentleman said to me lately, when speaking of the Roman Catholic fear of Purgatory, "The Methodists and Presbyterians would need some kind of purgatory too."

It may be objected that no details are revealed of such a preparatory state; and some may be so foolish as to think that this is an argument against its existence. I have surely only to remind you that neither have we details of the blessedness of heaven. In fact we could not have such details. That would probably involve a great deal of the history and condition of other worlds, which would be utterly confusing to us at present, and would serve no good end. We have enough to stimulate hope, but not enough to pander to curiosity.

That the advocates of eternal torment have no really deep conviction of its truth, let me also give a quotation that I have just met with:

"That its advocates themselves have little or no faith in it is very manifest from the fact that it has no power over their course of action. While all the denominations of Christendom profess to believe the doctrine that eternal torment and endless, hopeless despair will constitute the punishment of the wicked, they are all quite at ease in allowing the wicked to take their own course, while they themselves pursue the even tenor of their way.

"Chiming bells and pealing organs, artistic choirs, and costly edifices, and upholstered pews, and polished oratory which more and more avoids any reference to this alarming theme, afford rest and entertainment to the fashionable congregations that gather on the Lord's day, and are known to the world as the churches of Christ and the representatives of his doctrines. But they seem little concerned about the eternal welfare of the multitudes, or even of themselves and their own families, though one would naturally presume that with such awful possibilities in view they would be almost frantic in their efforts to rescue the perishing. The plain inference is that they do not believe it."

Then follows a reference to the "Mental Bias" of the early translators, as accounting for their erroneous translations, because they were just breaking away from the old papal system. Then the later translators are scathed for what the author calls "duplicity and cowardice" in continuing such errors.

Consider, too, that we are God's own children. This is no mere figure of speech. We are as truly God's children as our children are our own. If our children are evil, it is our glory to reclaim them. No matter how bad they are, we could not bear the thought of even one of them being in torment. But according to some, God can bear the thought, can even exult in it—that myriads of His children are in torment of the most horrible kind, and that for ever and ever. And it is conceived that this is so, notwithstanding the story of the Prodigal Son!

More than that, we hear the Father sighing out of His heart the broken words, "O that they were wise, that they understood this, that they would consider their latter end!" Yes, and we see Christ weeping over the doomed city, and we hear His pathetic words. "If thou hadst known—O if thou hadst only known the things that belong to thy peace!" And yet God is conceived of as contemplating with equanimity the everlasting torment of His own children.

Happily, however, men do not really believe in eternal torment. They may try to do so; it may seem orthodox; they may profess their faith in it; but their heart is often better than their head, and they do not really believe it. On this point, I will transcribe a paragraph from Rev. Arthur Chambers. It is so true, and so well expressed, that it will commend itself to every candid mind. He says:

"Thank God for the happiness of humanity! Man's intuitive instincts are better than his formulated creeds. The hope is secretly cherished that the grace of God, because it is the grace of an infinite Being, must and will operate beyond the limits defined by a narrow theology. No Christian, however staunch to the pitiless teaching of the school to which he belongs, ever brings himself really to think that any one beloved by him in the World Beyond is irretrievably lost. His creed, perhaps gives him no hope in regard to that one who dies without religion; but his own heart refuses to surrender its hope; and so he keeps his reason, and his faith in God."

I know there are those who accept the doctrine of Restoration, who yet think it an unsafe position to take in the case of some. They cite the case of parties who having accepted the larger view, drift into infidelity. The reason given is, that the doctrine of endless torment has been so long identified with orthodoxy that when that doctrine is surrendered, the vital doctrines of Christianity are in danger of going along with it.

But I do not think we need have any grave fears of that kind. For one thing, we ought not to be afraid of truth having an evil influence. On the contrary, it is a sanctifying power. Hence our Lord's prayer. "Sanctify them through Thy truth; Thy Word is truth." So if a man drifts into infidelity it is not the truth that leads him there. I imagine it is half truth that leads him astray; and a half truth is often really a falsehood. So if a man takes up the idea of Restoration in a careless or flippant spirit, thinking chiefly of it as a happy escape from punishment, it is a half truth; to him it is really a falsehood. But let him consider also the facts by which the idea of Restoration is sustained; let him be imbued thoroughly with these; and I think there will be little chance of him drifting into infidelity. I think on the contrary he will be far more devout. He will be let into such views of the wisdom, love and power of God as will more than offset any tendency to rationalism.

Besides, we know not what punishment, either in duration or intensity may await sinful men in the next life. We do not claim that suffering is abolished. Very far from that. We only claim that it is not of endless duration, and that it is of a reformatory character. If a man is thoroughly imbued with such ideas, he will be very far from being a sceptic. He will realize that the truth is a sanctifying power.

On this basis you give him something that he can really believe. You can tell him that he must suffer until he surrenders. He can believe that thoroughly. It appeals to his reason. But if you tell him that whether he surrenders or not, he must suffer forever and ever and ever, without any hope of release through all eternity, he does not really believe that; it is entirely beyond him; and it makes but a slight impression. The truth is the main thing; and the truth is divine; yes, divine; both in its nature and effects.

We have to remember, too, that there is such a thing as turning the grace of God into lasciviousness. The German proverb that the best things may become the worst, is along the same line; but it is commonplace compared with the trenchant words of Jude. According to him, even "grace" may become "lasciviousness." We have there a solemn warning. It does seem to me that really worthy thoughts of God are not compatible with the idea of endless torment.

In favor of the doctrine of eternal torment, it may be claimed that God has signally honored many men who hold, or have held, this view, and that therefore that view is the correct one. In the matter of revivals, especially, were not such men signally owned and honored? Witness the earlier Methodists, and later the Salvation Army. Especially think of Mr. Finney, under whose ministry there was a mighty revival.

ENCUMBERED THOUGH IT BE.

But there are two or three facts that ought to be remembered in this connection. One is, that God is often pleased to own even a small modicum of truth, encumbered though it be with a great deal of error. Such may have been Finney's case in particular. He preached the Gospel; that was the secret of his genuine success. Men were simply frightened by his lurid descriptions of hell. So extreme was he in this respect that strong men trembled, and Finney had to be pulled by the coat tails that he 'might go no further. So it was not his awful descriptions of the lost that were so blessed. It was the modicum of Gospel truth, presented with great earnestness, that really told.

Let me give two examples of the same principle from New Testament history. There was a certain Jew named Apollos. It is said of him that he was "mighty in the Scriptures," that he was "instructed in the way of the Lord," that he "mightily convinced the Jews." Yes; but at the same time he "knew only the baptism of John." Great as that man was, he was taken in hand by those obscure Christians. Aquila and Priscilla, who "expounded unto him the way of God more perfectly." The truth he had was encumbered for a time with a great deal of error; but it was owned and blessed notwithstanding.

WANT OF PROPORTION.

A more notable case was that of Peter. You remember his glorious response to our Lord's challenge, "Whom say ye that I am?" Peter promptly and gladly responded, "Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God." By that confession, Peter has covered his name with immortal honor. You remember, too, his sermon on the day of Pentecost, when three thousand men were converted. You recall also that sermon a little later when the converts numbered five thousand. Yes; but the man who was thus owned and honored really believed that the Gospel was for the Jews alone. Notwithstanding all his advantages, he was really a subject of that delusion. And he continued so for some time. Three miracles had really to be wrought to convince Peter to the contrary. This want of proportion in the man's illumination is really marvellous. It goes a long way to explain many revivals since that time.

Thus, Peter—grand apostle though he was—and notwithstanding that for three years he had been the bosom friend of Christ—had very narrow views as to the intended scope of the Gospel. He believed that the Gentiles were common and unclean; and it took, first a vision, and then a miraculous experience, to cure him of that insular idea. But he was cured, and never went back to his former contracted ideas.

So, it seems to me, the Christian World of to-day needs a vision along the same line; but larger. They have to take in the millions of un-Christian people in Christian lands, together with the uncounted millions of heathen during all time; and they have to learn that from the divine standpoint not one individual of them all is common or unclean. We believe that every one of them is destined for glory, and honor, and immortality. It may take a long time, and methods which as yet we know nothing of, to work out that glorious issue; but we cannot conceive of anything less as being worthy of eternal wisdom, power, and love.

From this point of view there can be no uncertainty about the end. Whether we think of God as desiring the highest character and happiness of His creatures; or whether we think of the means that Christ has used, and is using, to secure that end; or whether we think of the capacity of man for attaining the highest and the best—we can have no doubt that suffering will ultimately be done away, and that God will be all in all! That is, everything in everybody! Let us try to realize it. It is no mere golden dream.

I heard lately of a boy in Chicago under whose addresses people were being continually converted; and it was said there was nothing peculiar about his addresses but want of grammar. It is thus that God often chooses the weak things of the world to confound the mighty. The mere fact, then, that successful revivalists believed in the old theory of eternal torment, is no proof, nor even an indication, that it is true.

What a recoil we experience now when we read Jonathan Edwards' appalling description of sinners in the hands of an angry God! Even our beloved Spurgeon fell into this most horrible mistake. In all such cases it was logical enough. These men were but honestly following up the necessary result of their creed. Yet it may be well to quote Spurgeon's own words, that we may see what the old doctrine infallibly leads to. He says: "When thou diest, thy soul will be tormented alone. That will be a hell for it. But at the Day of Judgment, thy body will join thy soul, and then thou wilt have twin hells; thy soul sweating drops of blood, and thy body suffused with agony. In fire, exactly like that we have on earth, thy body will lie, asbestos-like, forever consumed, all thy veins roads for the feet of pain to travel on, every nerve a string, on which the devil shall forever play his diabolical tune of hell's unutterable lament."

No doubt such descriptions are awful. But are they not reasonable, if eternal torment is true? It is no use to turn away awe-stricken from such details; they are quite in harmony with the main idea of torment. Get the main idea right, and all such details will disappear. In fact, they have largely disappeared now. Why? Because the main idea is really disbelieved. Yes, disbelieved, though it is confessed. Surely, this disloyalty to what in our inmost souls we believe to be the truth is disloyalty to the Spirit of Truth.

Spurgeon's words are horrible enough; but they are far exceeded by others. Take the case of the Rev. J. Furniss, in a book of his on the "Sight of Hell." This author would be fiendish, if he were not silly. Here are his words:

"Little child, if you go to hell, there will be a devil at your side to strike you. He will go on striking you every minute forever and ever without end. The first stroke will make your body as bad as the body of Job, covered from head to foot with sores and ulcers. The second stroke will make your body twice as bad as the body of Job. The third stroke will make your body three times as bad as the body of Job. The fourth stroke will make your body four times as bad as the body of Job. How, then will your body be, after the devil has been striking it every moment for a hundred millions of years without stopping?

"Perhaps at this moment, seven o'clock in the evening, a child is just going to hell. To-morrow evening at seven o'clock, go and knock at the gates of hell, and ask what the child is doing. The devils will go and look. They will come back again, and say, The child is burning,' Go in a week and ask what the child is doing. You will get the same answer, 'It is burning,' Go in a year and ask. The same answer comes, 'It is burning.' Go in a million years and ask the same question. The answer is just the same, 'It is burning in the fire!'"

This is lurid enough; but is it not logical? It does seem to me that in this as in many other instances there is a great want in the popular imagination. Men will think it reasonable to believe in endless suffering; consider it even a sure sign of orthodoxy; sometimes speak of it glibly; but when the idea is drawn out into detail, they will shrink back from the detail in horror.

The fact is, that the theory does not bear to be presented in detail; when it is, even its supporters are horrified. Yet the most lurid details are strictly logical. For there is no conceivable detail of agony to be compared with that of its eternal duration. The most dreadful suffering that can be imagined pales almost into insignificance compared with the idea of endless—endless—endless duration. Even a mild discomfort, if eternally prolonged, infinitely surpasses in amount the most fearful suffering that has an end. But men will accept the theory of endless suffering almost as a commonplace, yet recoil with horror from any presentation of it in detail.

The fact that it does not bear to be even thought of in detail goes a long way to discredit the whole theory. A little development of the imagination here would be more effectual with the majority of men than all the logic in the world. And let us not think that imagination is some kind of a wild and exuberant offshoot of pure reason. No; it is a God-given faculty, and of a quality almost divine. As Ruskin says, "It is the greatest power of the soul."