Chapter XVIII: Introduction (1)

OUR blessed Saviour, when he was upon the earth knowing how very difficult it is to engage the attention and open the heart to the reception of religious truth, when presented abstractly, and in a didactic manner, was accustomed to connect his enunciation of the most important doctrines with a _narrative_ suited to illustrate and enforce the teachings, while it gained the attention and secured the reception of his doctrine. We have every reason to believe that these narratives were most of them _fictitious_. The persons introduced did not actually exist, and the incidents related had not really occurred. He was pleased to _invent_ the narrative, to _suppose_ the events to have happened, in order that he might by them illustrate and enforce the great lessons which he came to teach. We do not imagine that there was really “A certain rich man who had two sons,” to whom it happened as he related in that most beautiful parable of the Prodigal Son. We do not suppose that he had in his mind any particular person whom he called the “Unjust judge, who feared not God nor regarded man,” and yet was moved by the poor widow’s “importunity” to do her justice. His hearers understood perfectly well that these were _fictitious_ narratives, employed to _gain attention_ to a real truth. _Such fiction is no falsehood._ It is not intended to deceive, and it does not deceive. Its object is accomplished when it has won the attention to the _truth_ of which it is made the vehicle.

What the prophets often did, and what Jesus habitually did, has been done by good men in every age. They have _invented narratives_, sometimes brief, and designed to enforce and illustrate a single thought, and sometimes continued and connected, in order to convey a system of doctrine or a series of truths. Those are fables, or parables, poems or allegories, or simple stories, as may best suit the objects which the speaker or writer has in view. If Bunyan had merely told in plain, didactic language, the fears, the hindrances, the doubts, the sorrows, the hopes and labors and final triumphs of the Christian, he would have taught just what his Pilgrim’s Progress was designed to teach; but he would not have taught it so effectually, nor indeed _so truthfully_, as he has done by means of his inimitable work of fiction, in which the truth is not only _told_ to the ear, but _shown_, as it were, to the _eye_ of the mind, acting itself out in its natural and necessary results.

The numerous writers who have labored so sedulously and so successfully to make religious truth attractive and familiar to the minds of children and young people, and whose works constitute the bulk of our Sunday-school libraries, have not neglected to employ the _narrative_ as the _chief_ means of gaining attention and reaching the heart. And just so fax as such narratives are fitted and designed, _not merely to_ _interest the reader, not merely to excite his sympathy of arouse his feelings_, but to convey important information, to teach some practical lesson in morals or religion, to illustrate or enforce some great religious truth, so far they have the sanction of the example of the best of men in other days, and even of the Lord himself.

And what if it be true that wicked men have made fiction the instrument of most terrific evil? What if they have used it to pander to the vilest passions of depraved humanity? What if they have employed it as the vehicle of false philosophy and false religion? What if they have prostituted it to minister to a morbid and mawkish sensibility? What if they have flooded the land with the filthy outpourings of the vilest and most loathsome stews of profligacy and impiety? What if the infidel has seized on it and wielded it as his most powerful weapon against Christianity? Shall we leave it to the exclusive possession of the enemies of God and man? True, they have degraded and polluted it, but it is still a weapon of tremendous power. We will wrest it from their grasp. We will sanctify, by consecrating it to God and souls. We will increase its energies by earnest prayer for Heaven’s blessing. And we will turn it against vice and infidelity. We will use it against error. We will make it the exponent and defender of the truth as it is in Jesus. Why should we not? Do we hesitate to make poetry the medium of truth, because the vicious and the dissolute have sometimes stolen her beautiful garments to cover up the most licentious conceptions of the veriest profligates that have ever been blessed with intellect? Do we cast aside our sacred songs because the lyre has been degraded, and made to sing what modesty would not dare to speak in simple prose? No such thing. If others deface her beauty, misconceive her purpose, and misapply her power, we will weep over the perversion of so glorious a gift, but we will not refuse to employ the mighty energies of poetry and song in the soul-elevating work for which they were intended. Nor will we, for a similar cause, abandon to the vicious the exclusive use of the fictitious narrative. _We cannot conscientiously refuse to employ a weapon at once so effective and so necessary to the present condition of the reading world._

In the first volume of Theodosia Ernest, we have endeavored to make it the medium of instruction to a class of minds which would, we thought, be more easily reached by this than any other means in regard to certain subjects which we consider as of vast importance to the true interests of the religion of Jesus. We intended, when we began that work, to condense to a single volume such arguments and facts as should appear to us essential to the right understanding of the main points of difference between the Baptists and other denominations of Christian people. But we found that we could not do justice to the argument, and bring it all into the compass of a single volume. We were therefore obliged, contrary to our wishes and our first intentions, to continue the discussion into the present volume.

In the first, we confined our investigations to those topics which are embraced in what is commonly called the “baptismal controversy,” _to wit_, the _act_ of baptism, the subjects of baptism, and _communion_. We did not say all we desired to say, nor all that we intend to say, upon these subjects; but we have been assured, by those whose opinions we value more than our own, that on each of these points the argument is satisfactory and _unanswerable_. If there is in the manner of presenting it any thing _unkind or disrespectful_ to those who have conscientiously come to different conclusions from the author and his brethren, we sincerely regret it. We would not willingly grieve any lover of our Saviour, or cause the weakest of his little ones to stumble. If we are not self-deceived, we seek to know, and do, and teach the simple truth as we find it recorded in the Sacred Word; and to do this kindly and tenderly, but yet as one who feels that he must give account if he should “handle the Word of God deceitfully.”

In this volume we have presented the subject of _Church polity_. We are sure that Baptists themselves (we mean the masses, and not the educated few) have very much to learn in regard to the true nature and constitution of a scriptural Church of Jesus Christ. This has been less frequently than baptism the topic of pulpit instruction or newspaper discussion. What has been written upon it has, until recently, been mostly inaccessible to the common people; and much of it, we humbly conceive, has not been suited to give them _entirely_ correct impressions even if they had seen it. We hail, however, with great pleasure, the recent appearance of several most valuable works upon this subject; and if we chance in some things to differ from the authors of these works, or others who have attempted to develop the true idea of the Church of Christ, we trust that our teachings will be tried, _not_ by the common opinion of modern Christians, of ancient Christians, _not_ by the theories or the practice of Pedobaptists, or of Baptists, but simply and solely by the Word of God. To this the author has endeavored to bring every position, and examine it carefully by its sacred light. To this he appeals. By this, and this alone, will he be judged.

NASHVILLE, July 22d, 185

Ten Days’ Travel In Search of the Church.

FIRST DAY’S TRAVEL.

The converted infidel—The authority of the Scriptures—The object of our investigation—Is the Church one or many?—Has the Church any branches?—Difficulties increasing—A mystery developed.

IN the ladies’ cabin of one of those magnificent steamboats which ply upon the Mississippi, was a mixed company, consisting of persons brought together from various portions of our own and other lands. Some lounged lazily on the rich sofas; some walked uneasily up and down the room; some talked apart, in groups of two or three; some read the morning papers, which the obliging clerk had obtained at the last landing; others were intent upon the “latest novel,” or other trashy literature, which may always be procured about the wharf from which a boat is starting. Every thing readable had been seized upon by some one of the passengers, to while away the tedium of the monotonous voyage, with one exception. THE LARGE BIBLE, which some generous-hearted people had presented to the boat, lay unopened upon the centre-table. Seeing this, a gentleman who had been walking up and down in the dining-saloon, came in through the open door, sat down by the table, opened the book with an air of uncommon reverence, and silently read several chapters in succession.

There was something in the appearance and the manners of the man that attracted the special attention of a lady remarkable for the tasteful neatness of her plain apparel, and the extraordinary beauty and expressiveness of her face, who was sitting on the left of the table, engaged in conversation with a matronly personage, who, with quite a patronizing air, was expounding to the newly married pastor’s wife the mystery of making a certain variety of bread.

The Bible reader had, on sitting down, taken his pencil from his pocket, as though it had been his habit to lead with it in his hand; and once he had placed it on the margin of the page, seemingly with the design to make some mark, or note, when, recollecting that it was not _his own_ Bible, he laid it aside. When he had done reading, however, he turned to the fly-leaf opposite the title-page, and wrote slowly and carefully these lines:

The Book of God! let man beware, And note the words with earnest care; Heedful to learn what God will say, And not to cavil, but obey.

After which, he reverently closed the book, and returned to the other cabin. As soon as he was gone, the young lady reached the Bible, and, with true womanly curiosity, hastened to examine the writing. When she had read it, she found her husband, (a noble-looking man in the early prime of life, dressed, like herself, with great simplicity, yet with most perfect taste,) and brought him to look at it; remarking, as he was reading it, “That man is a Christian, my dear, and, it may be, a minister. We must become acquainted with him.”

“That is not unlikely. Show me which he is, and I will get the captain to introduce me to him.”

She pointed him out, and her husband went to seek the wished-for introduction.

“Captain, do you know that tall, dark gentleman yonder?”

“Certainly, sir. That is Dr. Thinkwell, formerly a practitioner of medicine, but now a wealthy planter. His summer residence is not many miles from Nashville. He will make the whole trip with us.”

“Will you have the kindness to make me acquainted with him?”

“Certainly; but you may not find his company so pleasant as you think; though, for that matter, he is a perfect gentleman. But you know you clergymen have your own opinions about some things; and the Doctor is said by some to have very different ones. In fact,” and the captain dropped his voice to a whisper, “he is said to be a Universalist, or an infidel, or something of that sort—I don’t know exactly what.”

“I am all the more anxious to know him, then.”

“Well, I only thought best to put you on your guard. He is coming this way: I will introduce you now.—Dr. Thinkwell, let me make you acquainted with the Rev. Mr. Percy, a young clergyman, who, with his lady, will travel with us as far as Nashville.”

“I am most happy to meet with you, Mr. Percy. There are but few of our present company who will make the whole trip, and I shall enjoy the voyage more for having some acquaintance in the ladies’ cabin.”

“Come with me, then, and let me introduce you to Mrs. Percy.”

They walked to the other apartment, and Mr. Percy introduced him to the lady as Dr. Thinkwell; and, to correct her conjecture that he might be a clergyman, added that he believed he was not a doctor of divinity, but of medicine.

“I had fancied, sir,” said she, “that you must be a minister of the gospel.”

“Why did you think so, Mrs. Percy?”

“From the reverent manner of your reading that book, and the lines you left upon the blank leaf at its beginning.”

“I have good reason, Madam, to love and reverence that book, although I am entirely unfit to become the expounder of its glorious truths. It is true I once despised it. I will not say I hated it: I scarcely thought it worthy of more than quiet contempt. Now I feel that it deserves far more grateful consideration at the hand of all men than it is accustomed to receive even from Christians. I cannot open it but with a sense of amazement at the goodness and the wisdom of the God who gave it.”

“Then you were once an infidel?”

“If by an infidel, Madam, you mean one who does not believe that the book called the Bible was a revelation from the Deity, I was an infidel. But I was also more.”

“Surely you were not an atheist! I have been accustomed to think that no person of ordinary intelligence and a sane mind _could_ be an atheist.”

“If by an atheist you mean one who is fully satisfied that there is no God, I was not one. But if you mean one who very seriously _doubts_ the being of a God; one who believes that there is not in nature, so far as known to us, sufficient and satisfactory proof to show that there is a God; then I was an atheist. He must be a bold man, indeed, who would undertake to say that there is certainly _not_ a God; for although there might be no evidence of God within his sphere of observation; nothing within him, nothing around him, nothing in the earth beneath or in the sky above him to show that God exists, he could not determine that there _might not be such evidence somewhere else_. Unless he had ranged through all the immensity of the universe, and perfectly mastered all the facts which it presents, that one world where he had not been might be the very world where God might be distinctly known; that one fact which he did not know might be the very fact which, if known, would prove the existence of a God. If any man be mad enough to take such ground, you may well call him a fool. He has said in his heart not merely that there is not evidence enough to prove that God is—so leaving his existence in doubt—but plainly and positively that there is no God. Such a man is not properly an atheist, but an anti-theist—not only _without_ God, but _against_ God I was an atheist, but not an anti-theist.”

“Pray, Doctor, sit down and tell us, (that is, if you have no objection to speak of these things,) how it was that you were brought out of this darkness of unbelief into the light of faith.”

“When I was an unbeliever, I did not hesitate to express my doubts, and the reasons why I doubted. I took pleasure in encountering in argument those who were silly enough, as I then considered them, to believe such incredible things as the doctrines of the Christian religion; and why should I now hesitate to avow my faith in God and in his word, and, more than all; in Jesus Christ, my blessed Saviour? I will take pleasure, therefore, in relating to you the process of reasoning by which I have been led to the reception of the truth. But the story is a long one: the arguments are various, and may, to you, seem complicated, and will require our careful and undivided attention. This we can hardly give during our stay upon the boat; but I trust there will be some favorable opportunity before we part.[1] Meantime, let me have some conversation with you upon another subject, in regard to which you are probably better informed than I am, and about which I am just now in a state of distressing uncertainty.

“It is not very long since I was led, in God’s great mercy to take Jesus Christ for my Saviour. In doing so, I took him for my Lord and King. I feel that to him alone I owe allegiance in all matters of religion; and, if I am not self-deceived. I sincerely desire and intend to know and do his will. I am aware that he requires of those who believe in him, that they shall make a public profession of their faith in him, and unite themselves with his visible people. This I should have done ere now, but for a single difficulty, which is not yet removed, and in the removal of which you possibly may aid me.”

“And what is that great difficulty?”

“Simply this: there are so many different organizations, each claiming to be the Church of Christ, that I do not know which to receive and unite with as his.”

“Permit me to suggest,” replied Mr. Percy, “that you have probably not made a careful examination of the subject in the light of the _Scriptures alone_; but have permitted the cross-lights of tradition and of prejudice, or at least of early impressions, to confuse your vision, and so divert your attention from the real object of your search; for, had this not been the case, I do not understand how you could find reason for even a moment’s hesitation.”

“Do you think, then, that the peculiar characteristics of The Visible Church of Christ are so plainly and definitely set forth in the Scriptures, that it is not easy to mistake on this point?”

“Surely they are, my dear sir; so that it is not only easy not to mistake, but, I had almost said, _so that no man of common sense, who will be guided by Scripture alone, casting aside the influence of all human teachings, can possibly mistake_. Why, sir, after the revelation of Christ himself, the great object of the New Testament Scriptures—the very purpose for which they were intended—is, to give the constitution, the laws, and the history of the kingdom which Christ came to establish upon the earth; and it would be strange, indeed, if they have given them in language so ambiguous that no one could understand it, or that any candid inquirer should have any sort of difficulty in knowing what this kingdom in its essential features is.”

“How, then, does it happen, sir, that there exists such a wide diversity of opinion among the good and pious? If the thing is so plainly set forth, why do not all see it, and see it all alike? How is it that we have Episcopalians, and Presbyterians, and Lutherans, and Congregationalists, and Methodists, and I can’t say how many others, all claiming, each for themselves, that they are the true Church of Christ?”

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” said a middle-aged man, who looked up suddenly from the newspaper which he had apparently been reading; “I do not conceive of these various Churches that each claims for itself that it is _the Church_, but only that it is a _branch of the Church of Christ_. I am a minister of the Methodist Connection, and I am sure that, while we claim for ourselves to be a part of the Church of Christ, we do not deny that Episcopalians, provided they are good and pious, and Presbyterians, and Lutherans, and Baptists, and, in fact, all evangelical Christians, are just as much branches of Christ’s Church as we are ourselves.”

“You would remove my difficulty, then,” replied the Doctor, “by showing that it is a matter of no consequence at all with which of these various organizations I shall unite, since all are equally Churches of Christ, and I would obey him equally whether I attach myself to one or to another. Do I understand you rightly?”

“O, of course I think my owe denomination more nearly right than any other, or I would not belong to it; and if I should give you any advice, I would say, sir, by all means unite with the Methodists. But still, we hold that every man should be fully persuaded in his own mind, and that every Christian, therefore, should belong to that connection where he can best enjoy himself.”

“Your suggestion, then, does not quite meet my case. I not seeking to secure my own _enjoyment_, but to obey _Christ’s requirements_. I am willing to deny myself to do his will I only ask to know which (if any) of these various organizations was that which he established, and into which, therefore, he requires me to be incorporated. They are certainly very different in doctrine, different in practice, and different in the character of their membership. They cannot all be right. They cannot be each the Church of Christ, unless Christ established several distinct Churches. They cannot be _branches_ of his Church, unless he established a Church with several different branches. This is self-evident. But if he did, there is, of course, some record of it in this book;” (laying his hand reverently on the Bible;) “and if you will do me the kindness to point it out, I shall certainly avail myself of your suggestion, and unite with that body in which I think I will best enjoy my religion.”

Saying this, he pushed the Bible across the table, so that it lay directly before the stranger, who mechanically opened it, but without looking into it, as he replied, “You would not, of course, expect to find the Methodist, or Episcopal, or Lutheran, or Presbyterian Churches described by name in the Word of God, for none of them existed, or were known by name, in the days when the Scriptures were written; but we hold that it is all-sufficient, _if the essential doctrines and practices of each or any of them can be established by Scripture proof_. If the doctrine and practice of any of them, or all of them, are scriptural, then they are scriptural Churches.”

“But do you not see, my dear sir, that while they _differ_ in doctrine and practice, they _cannot_ be all scriptural, unless the Scriptures teach as many different and opposing systems of doctrine and practice as there are Churches. If any one of them is in accordance with Scripture, it follows, of necessity, that just so far as the others differ from _it_, they differ from the Scripture. There _can_ be only one scriptural Church of Christ, unless Christ founded more than one, and gave them different laws. This, I am sure, needs no proof: it is self evident: And what I ask, and must require, before I can avail myself of your kind suggestion, that I may unite with any one of these organizations, and feel that I am obeying him, is, that you show me some shadow of proof, some faint intimation at least, that his Church was _not_ one and undivided, but that he gave different constitutions, laws, and doctrines to different classes of people, or, at least, that he authorized the _one_ Church to divide itself into what you call branches. So far as my investigations have gone, I find his kingdom spoken of as an undivided kingdom. His people are said to be _one_. There is one fold and one shepherd: there were to be no divisions among them. They were all to speak the same thing. We read, indeed, of different individual Churches, as the Church of the Corinthians, and of the Church of Ephesus, and the like—separate, and distinct, and independent organizations—but they were one in doctrine, one in practice. They all walked, or were required ‘to walk, by the same rule.’ They had all ‘one Lord, one Faith, and one Baptism.’ It is thus that I read; but if I read amiss, I will be thankful to him who will show me my error. You say, sir, that these modern sects are _branches_ of the Church: if so, where or which is the main and parent stock planted by Christ and cultivated by the apostles, from which these branches grow? If that is still alive, I will be engrafted into it. If _it_ dead, what keeps alive the branches? If the original stock is so cut up into branches that it cannot be found, show me some scriptural authority for the cutting up, and some command requiring me to add my name to any of them as I may think most proper. I read, indeed, of Christ as the vine, and of _individual Christians_ as branches growing out of him, and living by his life; but nowhere of a parent stock of _churches_, with branches growing out of _it_. Can you point me to any such a passage?”

“Indeed, sir,” replied the preacher, “I do not deny and suppose that no one can deny, that there ought to be general unity among Christians, and that the divisions and dissensions which have separated the professed followers of Christ are greatly to be deplored; but, at the same time, sir, human nature is imperfect: men will not all see alike, and hence there always have been, and always will be, differences of opinion, and, consequently, of practice.”

“Very true, my dear sir, but this does not affect the point about which we are conversing in the slightest degree. The question which I ask is this: What or which is that organization which was established by Christ, and called his Church or kingdom? I feel that it is my duty to join myself to it. You reply that human nature is imperfect, and men will differ from each other, so that some think this and some think that is it. One says, here, in the Roman Catholic hierarchy; another says, there, in the Episcopal; another, in the Lutheran another, in the Presbyterian; and so on, through the catalogue. You have your private opinion that it is in the Methodist Connection, but assure me that any of them will do. Now, to me it seems evident that, although human nature _is_ imperfect, God’s _revelation_ cannot be. In that revelation (it is admitted by all) is revealed and described a visible organization, which was devised and established by Jesus Christ, and is called his Church. Whatever that may be, it is some _one_ thing, and not a dozen different things; for a kingdom divided against itself, said Jesus, cannot stand. It is, what it is there represented to be, just that, and nothing else. It must be still in existence, because he foretold that it should never fail; that the gates of hell should not prevail against it. Now, my object is to find it; and, having found it, to become a part of it.”

“I do not conceive, sir,” said Mr. Percy, “that you will meet with any serious difficulty in making the discovery, when you once begin at the _right place_ and look in the _right direction_.”

“I must have started wrong then, for, up to this time, I confess there is an impenetrable obscurity hangs over the whole subject.”

“Will you permit me to ask,” said Mrs. Percy, “of what denomination were your parents?”

“They belonged to the Church of England, madam.”

“Then you were sprinkled in your infancy.”

“So I have been told. And I remember that, when I was about twelve years old, the bishop put his hands upon my head, and said some words, which they informed me confirmed my baptism, and completed the process of making me a Christian.”

“Then,” said she, “you have some predilections for the organization which you were taught in childhood to regard as the only Church of Christ.”

“It may be so, madam; but I do not think you apprehend the exact nature and extent of the difficulties which embarrass and distress me. My mother was a good and pious Christian. In most things she was right; and I grant that I cannot help feeling a smothered conviction that she must have been right in whatever pertained to her religion. But, at the same time, I am quite ready, upon sufficient evidence, to admit that she was wrong. My parents did not make religion the special study of their lives. They received _their_ religious opinions from others, in their childhood, as _I did mine_, so far as I had any, until recently; they never made them the object of any careful examination, but took it for granted that what ‘the Church’ believed must be the truth. So, if what is called the Church was wrong, they were wrong, of course. But here is the trouble: _I_ have not made religion the study of _my_ life any more than _they_ did; _my_ judgment, therefore, is worth no more than _theirs_. And when I turn to those who _have_ given the labor of their lives to this very thing, I find that they have come to such various and contradictory conclusions, that I am ready to despair of the possibility of ever knowing certainly what is the truth.

“I fix my attention upon one man. I see that he has an intellect superior to my own; that he has piety which I never expect to equal; that he has stores of learning such as I never can obtain. He is honest; he is earnest; he is studious and prayerful. He has spent a long life in the almost exclusive study of this very subject, and he is a Presbyterian. I turn to another, and he is a Methodist; to another of the same class, and he is a Lutheran, a Congregationalist, a Baptist, or possibly, like Fénélon, a Catholic.

“Now, what am I to do? How can I decide who of them all is right? How venture in my ignorance to determine what all the wisdom of pious sages leaves open to dispute?”

“That is just what I said,” replied the Methodist. “The whole matter is involved in so much uncertainty, and each of the Churches can present so many good and valid reasons in its favor, that every one must consult his own inclinations, and join that which is most congenial to his feelings.”

“I cannot think so, sir,” resumed the Doctor; “for when, on the other hand, I turn my attention to God, instead of man—when I look into the Holy Word, I find a _positive duty is imperatively enjoined_. This duty—that of uniting with the Church of God by a public profession of faith in Christ—poses a previous decision of the question, who and what that Church is. And the Scriptures must, therefore, (if I only knew how to find it,) contain such a specific description of the nature and peculiar characteristics of that Church as to enable me to decide which it is for myself, and that without any danger of mistake. Still, I confess that I have not yet found any such description in the book, or, if I have, have not yet found the corresponding organization in this country.”

“If you will pardon me for saying so, Doctor,” replied Mr Percy, “I think I can easily convince you that your difficulties are much more fanciful than real; or rather that they are much more theoretical than practical. The simple truth is this: You have nothing to do with other men’s decisions. It is nothing at all to you or to me what this good man or that great man may think. Religion is a _personal_ matter; its faith is _personal_ faith; its duties are _personal_ duties. It rests upon a _personal recognition_ of the teachings of God’s Word. You are personally responsible to God for your own individual faith and practice. You must therefore examine for _yourself_, and not leave others to decide these questions for you.

“You may investigate the subject just as though no one else had ever thought of it. You should regard no other man’s decision as of authority to you. You do not hesitate to treat a case of fever, because Hippocrates and Galen, Boerhave or Sydenham, Cullen or Bronsais, chanced to disagree either in theory or practice?”

“No, sir. I examine for myself, decide for myself, and act upon my own decision. If I should wait for the doctors to agree, I should never make a prescription.”

“Just so let it be in regard to this matter. I discover that you are in earnest. You desire to know the truth. You recognize God’s Word as the only standard of truth. By that, and that alone, we are to try our faith and practice. You have truly stated that this word teaches that the visible kingdom of Christ is not many, but one; and it must be now just what it was in the apostles’ days: I have my own opinion upon this question, but I will not intrude it upon you as an argument. If you will consent, we will together, during our voyage, make a careful, thorough, and systematic examination _of the Scriptures_ in regard to their teachings on this subject. And when we have finished, if you have any shadow of a doubt remaining, it will be more than I expect. My friend, Mr. Courtney, who will join us at our next landing, has given more attention to these subjects than I have, and will doubtless take pleasure in giving us his assistance, as will also, I trust, our Methodist friend.”

“Please then,” said Mrs. Percy, “postpone this matter till to-morrow, and, for our mutual advantage, make the investigation so thorough and extensive as to leave no room for doubt in any mind.”

“But, madam, you do not reflect that this would require all the leisure which we will have during the next two weeks.”

“Suppose it should: it will be time well spent. But we shall get on faster than you imagine. Mr. Courtney is a sort of walking-library upon these subjects, and Mr. Percy has had some personal experience in such investigations.”

“Very good,” replied the Doctor; “we will at least do what we can towards a complete examination of the whole subject, and should we not finish it during our voyage, you and Mr. Percy will, I trust, do me the favor to continue it at my house, after our arrival in Nashville; for you are then to be my guests. Nay! no excuses. I have claims upon you both, of which you are yet quite ignorant; and, in due time, I am very anxious to learn how and when you chanced to become Mrs. Percy; for when I saw you last, you were Miss Theodosia Ernest; and how and when Mr. Percy became a minister of the gospel; for when I last saw him, he was regarded only as a very promising young lawyer.”

“Then, sir, you are not the utter stranger that we supposed you to be!”

“So far from it, madam, I am, in one sense, indebted to you, under God, for the greatest blessing of my life.”

“Indeed, sir, this is all a mystery to me. I am not aware that I ever saw you before to-day.”

“That may well be; yet I have seen you very frequently. Some other time I will explain: I have now been shut up here so long, that I must take a turn on deck, and get some fresh air.”

SECOND DAY’S TRAVEL.

In which little more is done than to settle the exact meaning of the words and phrases used in the Scriptures to designate the new institution which was established by Christ, and which people commonly call his Church, but which the Scriptures call his kingdom.

IF the reader has never seen the work to which this is the sequel,[2] he will do well to lay this down until he can obtain and read Theodosia Ernest, for there is much in this which no one can fully understand without some acquaintance with the history which that book records. If he has seen and read that work, he will probably feel some faint desire at least to know in what way good Doctor Thinkwell had ever been associated with Theodosia, and by what means he knew any thing of herself or her husband; and will excuse the curiosity, which led to much conversation and many conjectures between herself and Mr. Percy, as to who this stranger could possibly be, and what could have been the nature of that favor for which he acknowledged his indebtedness to her. I do not say that it was owing entirely to this that she passed a sleepless night, for there was the heavy tread of passers to and fro upon the deck; the creaking of the tiller-ropes and rudder; the frequent ringing of the pilot’s bells, as signals to the engineers; the occasional tolling of the great bell, as a signal to other boats; the constant rattling and jarring of the ponderous machinery; and the splash of the mighty wheels by which they were driven along the surface of the stream: all these combined to hold her waking; and, being awake, she could not help awakening her husband every hour, to tell him of some new conceit concerning the mysterious Doctor; and I trust the reader will excuse her, if she left her state room more anxious to solve this riddle than to study the peculiar characteristics of a Christian Church.

Scarcely were the breakfast things removed, before she desired Mr. Percy to secure an opportunity to renew their conversation. He went out to look for the Doctor, and reported that he was smoking his cigar upon the upper deck. As the night had been sultry and the morning was calm, Mrs. Percy soon persuaded two or three ladies, with whom she had established a travelling acquaintance, that it would be delightful to enjoy the fresh air above. It was not long before Mr. Percy was walking the deck with two young ladies, and his wife was walking with Dr. Thinkwell, deeply engaged in earnest conversation.

“I must say, Dr. Thinkwell, it was too provoking in you to excite my curiosity as you did, and leave it all night unsatisfied. Mr. Percy and I could not sleep for anxiety to learn in what way you became acquainted with a portion of our history, and how it was possible that either of us could ever unconsciously have done you so great a kindness as you intimated yesterday Now please explain yourself.”

“With the greatest pleasure, Madam; but only on the condition that you repay my story by your own; for I suppose I am almost as curious to learn your history, from the time I saw you last, as you are to hear mine.”

“Let it be so understood, then. I am ready to promise almost any thing reasonable; only tell me how you came to know us, and what the favor was of which you spoke, and which you were pleased to call the greatest blessing of your life.”

“It was, in part, through your instrumentality, Madam, that I was recovered from the distractions of infidelity to the peace of faith. But not to keep you longer in suspense, I will tell you how it was. I have an estate in the country, a few miles from your native town, on which I was spending a few months during the summer that you were baptized. One Sabbath morning, as I was riding into town, I noticed a crowd gathering about the old school-house on the common, and, moved only by an idle curiosity, I went up and joined it. I soon discovered that it was a religious meeting, but knew that it must be something uncommon, and therefore dismounted and went in.

“It had been many years since I had been present at _any_ religious services; and it was the first time I was ever present at a _Baptist_ meeting. The whole scene interested me greatly, from its mere novelty. When the sermon was finished, and you presented yourself so calmly, and related your Christian experience, I will not distress you by saying how much I pitied your enthusiasm, and wondered at your folly. I was, however, greatly interested. I followed you to the river: I felt an involuntary shudder when you were plunged into the water: I gazed upon your face as you came out; and, strange as it may seem to you, I wept with those who wept that day. I was ashamed of it; I saw no reason for it; I chided myself, and called myself a fool for weeping; but I could not restrain my tears.

“I forgot the business for which I had come to town, and returned home sad and thoughtful. I began to ask myself, What if this be _not_ all an illusion? what if religion be, after all, a stern reality? what if there be a God? what if the Bible should be true? what if there be a heaven and a hell? Was it not at least _possible_ that I might be wrong, and the thousands whom I had pitied or despised as dupes, or as impostors, might be right? True, I had often looked over the argument, and found it all correct; but was it not _possible_ that, at some point, my logic had been at fault? Could it do any harm to go over the ground once more? I determined to do so, carefully, step by step; but, in the meantime, I was uneasy; I was distressed; I could think of nothing else. Day after day, and night after night, I returned to the meetings, which you remember were held, first in the school-house, and afterwards in the courthouse. I witnessed all the professions of faith, and all the seventy baptisms; and, though not yet convinced that the Bible was more than a mass of fable and imposture, I spent many hours in its careful study.

“At length it became necessary for me to leave that part of the country. I had but few personal acquaintances, and to none of these did I mention my distress, which continued and increased until it had sensibly undermined my health. I felt that, one way or another, the question _must_ be decided; and, slowly and painfully, step by step, my reason struggled back from the dark abyss of atheism, to a firm belief in a glorious, spiritual, intelligent, and efficient First Cause, which men call God; and then, more slowly and laboriously still, to the recognition of the Bible as a revelation from that God to me.

“I will not now even allude to the nature of that process of reasoning by which this work was done. Some time or other we will, should Providence permit, go over all that ground.[3] What sleepless nights and days of anguish wore away, through the long and dreary months, while this re-investigation was in progress, I almost shudder to remember. And when this work was done—when had I found that there was a God, and that the Scriptures were his message to our race—there came a time of still greater darkness, and more oppressive agony of soul. Reason could show me that there was a God; but reason could not tell me what that God requires of him who has broken his laws, and rebelled against his government. This I felt that I had done. I was a sinner. The God of the Bible was a God I had not loved or honored. My very heart revolted against his right to rule me. Yet I tried to conform my life, and even my desires, to the requirements of his Word. The trial was a vain one: I offended every day, and every day was more and more oppressed with a sense of guilt. I needed pardon for the past, and I needed aid in the present. I cannot say that I had any considerable _fear_ of punishment. I did not think of this; but I was a sinner, and needed deliverance. I prayed—O! how intense, how earnest, how agonizing was my prayer!—‘Lord, save me; I cannot save myself!’ Like David, I cried, ‘I am distressed: O Lord, undertake for me!’ and, little by little, the light of his love shone into my soul. I began to study more and more the character of Jesus _as a Saviour_. This removed the cloud from much of what had seemed mysterious in the sacred record. ‘He was exalted to be a _Saviour_:’ he was ‘Christ the Lord, a _Saviour_:’ ‘he came to _save_ his people from their sins.’ He _could_ save me: why should he not? ‘Whosoever will, let him come;’ and ‘come’ especially he says to the ‘weary and heavy laden.’ And, ‘he that cometh, I will in no wise cast out.’ I took him at his word: I asked him to save _me_; I believe he will—he has—he does; and I delight to meet with one who loves him as I do, and tell what great things he has done for my soul.

“Now you have my history, and I shall expect you to tell me yours, beginning from the time of your baptism; and so much of Mr. Percy’s (if he will not tell it himself) as will explain the mystery of his appearing as a clergyman rather than a lawyer.”

“I will keep my promise, Doctor; but you know that when a lady gets to talking, especially about herself, she never knows when to leave off. And my husband told Mr. Courtney that we would all assemble in the cabin about this time, to renew our investigation of the nature and characteristics of a Church of Christ; and, till I have learned why it is that you could not recognize the body of Christians into whose number you saw me baptized as one, I shall feel as though your history is not quite complete. So let us go down. I hope that Methodist minister will be there, for I am anxious for a full examination of the whole question.”

“You cannot be as much so as I am. And with the understanding that you will remember your promise at the first convenient time, we will now go below.”

On entering the cabin, they found Mr. Courtney already there, with the Bible open before him, in which he had placed a number of little slips of paper, with a pencil-mark on each, to designate some particular passage which he desired to refer to.

The party were soon seated in order around the table. Some of the other passengers drew near enough to hear, without seeming to take part in the discussion; while others, aware that it would be upon a subject connected with _religion_, quietly drew farther off, that they might not be _annoyed_ with any thing so distasteful and unfashionable.

“You understand, I presume,” said the Doctor to Mr. Courtney, “that the object which we have in view is simply to ascertain _which_ (if any) _of those organizations which now claim to be Churches of Jesus Christ, is that which was established by =him=; and which is recognized in the Scriptures as =his Church=_? Or, to be more specific and practical, is it the Roman Catholic, the Greek Church, the Episcopal, the Methodist, the Presbyterian, the Lutheran, the Congregationalist the Baptist, the Cumberland Presbyterian; or is it all of these or none of these?”

“Certainly, sir. Mr. Percy explained your object to me soon after I came on board yesterday evening; and I have been considering a little how we could reach it by the most direct and plainest route. It seems to me that it will be important, if not essential, for us first to determine definitely what we mean by The Church of Christ. Let us be sure we know what we are looking for, and then we shall be able to recognize it when we find it. I suppose we may take it for granted that the Lord Jesus Christ has, somewhere in this world, a visible organization of his people, called _his Church_. The very fact that we are looking for it, is evidence that we admit its existence. We need not, therefore, refer to the Scriptures to prove that they speak of it as a perpetual institution, which must continue till the end of time; that is, till Christ shall come again. If proof were needed, however, we have it in the act of institution of one of the ordinances of that organization, in which Christ says, ‘As often as ye do it, ye do show forth the Lord’s death _until he come_.’ And again, in the commission to establish and extend that organization among all nations, ‘Go ye, therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost: teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you; and I am with you _always, even unto the end of the world_.’”

“Of course, Mr. Courtney, no professed Christians doubt that such an organization as the Church of Christ exists, since they all claim that they are members of it.”

“Then we may take another step. It is essential to our purpose to know what the Scriptures say about this organization; and, for this end, we must know _by what names they call it_, otherwise we might not be able to tell when they are speaking of it.”

“That is well thought of,” said the Doctor, “and may save us a great deal of trouble. Much of the controversy which distracts the religions world, I am persuaded, has grown out of a loose and careless manner of employing words and phrases. Let us be sure to get started right, and then the whole journey will be easy, and pleasant, and safe; and we will be much more likely to arrive at right conclusions.”

“The Church of Christ is, in common language,” resumed Mr. Courtney, “continually confounded with the kingdom of Christ. Yet it is in fact, and according to Scripture usage a very different thing. It is not the kingdom, but an institution within the kingdom; just as our courts of law are not the State, but a requisite and essential part of the machinery of the State. Let us first get some definite idea of The Kingdom.

“One of the best expositions of this subject which I have seen, is given by Dr. George Campbell, a Scotch Presbyterian, and one of the most candid and erudite writers of the present age. He says, (page 132,) ‘The religious institution of which the Lord Jesus is the author, is distinguished in the New Testament by particular names and phrases, with the true import of which it is of very great consequence that we be acquainted, in order to form a distinct apprehension of it, and the nature of the whole.… The most common appellation given to this institution, or religious dispensation, in the New Testament, is “the kingdom of God,” or “the kingdom of heaven;” and the title given to the _manifestation_ of this new state is most frequently “the gospel of the kingdom,” and, when considered under a somewhat different aspect, “the new covenant.”

“‘The Great Personage himself, to whose administration the whole is intrusted, is, in contradistinction from all others, denominated “The Christ.” … In the phrase, the kingdom of God, or of heaven, there is manifest allusion to the predictions in which this economy was revealed by the prophets in the Old Testament, particularly by the Prophet Daniel, who mentions it in one place as the kingdom which the God of heaven would set up, and which should never be destroyed; in another, as a kingdom to be given with glory and dominion over all people, nations, and languages, to one like unto the Son of Man.’