second death, to which lost souls are doomed? If this theory of future punishment be true, then it must be admitted concerning the description of the General Judgment in the Bible, that it is as a high-wrought picture on canvas, into which inspired painters indeed have wrought divine colors, yet with no prophetic outlines of eternal realities. It is all on the canvas, and none of it in fact. And yet what is that departing into everlasting fire prepared for the devil and his angels? And what that falling into the hands of the living God? And what that drinking of the wine of the wrath of God? Indeed, the Judgment is more than a reenactment of the laws of nature. § 10. This scheme of retribution shows no just appreciation of sin. And this is the vitiating, fatal error that underlies the whole structure. Sin is esteemed as mainly a mistake in the management of self-interests. The theory does not rise up and go out after sin, as something committed against God, and as doing violence to infinite justice and benevolence and wisdom, as combined in his glorious government for the good of the universe. The punishment is not commensurate with any such. view of the wrong to be avenged. There is a narrow, provincial lingering of judgment among the private interests of the transgressor, as if he had wronged himself only. The measure of evil and of guilt is sought mostly within the selfish circle of the sinner's own welfare. Thus, the consequences of his sins are dwarfed to diminutive proportions, and the punitive inflictions are diminutively commensurate. The theory makes sin to be little more than a personal oversight, to be followed naturally by personal inconveniences. We have been surprised to hear evangelical preachers, so called, say that one sin would not justly expose a man to everlasting punishment, perhaps not all the sins of this life. But when they adopt this theory of retribution, the surprise ceases. For evidently a man ought not to be punished forever, with positive inflictions at the hand of God, for one mistake, or for any number of mistakes, in his own private affairs. In the reflected light of such punishment as this scheme advocates, sin can be little else than a blunder. moral constitution of the actor. It is an act that shocks the personal consequences are annoying. If the evil be not corrected, it will follow one into the next world and trouble him there for a season. So a remedy must be sought. The process of it is mostly preventive and restorative through the personal management of the suffering offender. All which shows no such guilt as demands an infinite sacrifice. Then the nature of the penalty is such, wrapped up in organic laws, that it cannot be met by substituted suffering and a vicarious atonement. Nor can the punishment be stayed by pardon. It is of the quality of a natural effect and must follow its cause. How far these views of future retribution accord with the older symbols of orthodoxy, needs no statement. They are a compromise for peace between two antagonistic systems; and the compromise is all on one side. It is a retreat from the high ground of Calvinism toward the natural level of a universal restoration. It is a facile and covered descent to lower regions, while it would seem to remain unmoved. It is a removal of the cross by showing that its use is impossible according to the moral constitution of man. Of course we are to be called alarmists in this thing, animated by a purpose to provoke controversy, thrusting unpractical speculations on the evangelical world, making "a divisive movement" where there is no disagreement practically, and much more. Yet if there is nothing but the old theology extant in our evangelical churches, it can do no harm to stir up their pure minds by way of remembrance of the Calvinistic and Edwardian ideas of future punishment. But what means all this silence in many evangelical pulpits on the positive and unending punishment of the wicked at the hand of God? And what this somewhat speculative, and somewhat tender, pious, and maternal yearning for a second probation? And what this graceful elision of a doctrine dissonant to natural ears from the rounded periods of the fresh and scholarly candidate? And what these lengthy discussions, protracted sessions, and protesting minorities in councils for licensure, ordination, and installation, with sometimes the covering appendix of nepotism? If there is no popular and practical ground for criticism on this question, why the wide-spread whisper through some journals, (amounting to an outcry of alarm,) that nothing is in peril pertaining to the older doctrine of retribution? This intense affirmation of safety adds much to the evidences of danger. And what importance are we to attach to such expressions as the following, from one claiming to be an orthodox author? (Rev. C. F. Hudson.) He calls the doctrine of everlasting punishment "the most appalling of all doctrines," and says it "is still a just occasion of offence, notwithstanding the modifications that have been put upon it."""The doctrine retains all its substantial difficulties, and remains infinitely burdensome, notwithstanding all the attempted mitigations of it." "For thinking men, who look at the logical bearings of the doctrine, the full temptation remains to say: If this be the religion of the Bible, the alleged truth of Revelation, let my soul be with the God of Reason and Nature." Yet he is encouraged by the belief that "the doctrine is almost wholly withdrawn from practical use. Even in our last general revival it was but slightly apparent. It is expected only in the theological treatise, or lecture, or sermon. But thus retained, it retains its whole power of mischief with thinking minds." And he proposes this relief. "Let the distinction between that which is fundamental and that which is not, be plainly made and carefully guarded. On all points not clearly essential, where truthloving men may honestly differ, let each one be fully persuaded in his own mind. But from the symbol in which, as a psalm of confession, all Christian voices should freely unite, let the burdensome test be removed." It is not too early to have suspicions, and examine the positive proofs of departures from the ancient faith. We remember the cry for peace, and for the culture of brotherly love, and the earnest defence of " practical preaching," when, a half century ago, so many of the churches of Massachusetts went out from us. We confess to the charge. We are "heresy-hunting." ARTICLE III. THE THEOLOGY OF PLYMOUTH PULPIT. THAT Henry Ward Beecher is writing his own name for the next generation to read, there is no one, we presume, who will be disposed to doubt. How they will read, with an increased or a diminished admiration, in characters luminous and indelible, or fading already into a shimmering, it is full early to prophesy. Time makes strange work with the reputation of a people's idols and benefactors,—they are not always identical, — reversing popular verdicts, lifting up the humble and self-forgetful, and dissolving the dreams of the proud, recording its irreversible decree with the coolness of a Rhadamanthus. It is a curious piece of history, and furnishes a study in human nature, the reputation of a living man, and the same man's reputation when he has passed away. In how many cases it is an appeal from Philip drunk to Philip sober, all thinking persons must have observed. The London Times keeps on hand, it is said, a collection of brilliant obituaries of eminent living men, far advanced in years, that it may astonish the world by exhibiting a finished fulllength portraiture of a great statesman or philosopher in the selfsame sheet which contains the announcement of his departure. Some twelve years ago, all London was startled one foggy morning to find in the leading journal a most elaborate and eloquent sketch of the late Henry Lord Brougham, with a masterly critique upon his genius and character, thus affording to his lordship, who was as well as could be expected for a man of his years and service, the singular gratification of reading what the Thunderer had long been intending to say of him after he was dead! The thing was well enough, no doubt, and might have kept any reasonable number of years, and answered to admiration for a post-mortem tribute so speedily ensuing; but the great future has a verdict for every man of renown, which it surrenders at no prophet's bidding. And time is terribly true in this business. When Oliver Cromwell was dead, the Stuart pub - lished his obituary by setting up his head above Westminster Hall, and thought he had written it "with an iron pen and lead in the rock forever," "Traitor and regicide, infamous and execrated to everlasting ages!" But two centuries pass away, and Oliver Cromwell looms up a prince among kings and emperors. Two centuries is the measure of six generations; yet the time should not be considered long for the man who carried in his bosom a revolution which disfranchised king and cavalier, and went thundering through the darkness of ages like the chariot of God. It took a long day for the primeval sun to penetrate the dense mists which his own fires had raised. But the business is much more speedily adjusted for ordinary mortals. Twenty-five years ago Daniel O'Connell stood in the front rank of popular British orators. His eloquence was rare, and its finest strains were poured forth on behalf of the poor and the oppressed, while he thundered, like Jupiter, against selfishness, and injustice, and avarice, and falsehood: weeping, as he had been an angel of pity, on the platform of Exeter Hall, when he spoke of the miseries of the West Indian slaves, and making every ragged mother in Ireland believe that he loved her starving child as if he had been its father. But the grave closed over O'Connell; and forthwith, as if waking from a dream, the very community he had entranced proclaimed him jesuit, demagogue, comedian; cold, grasping agitator, whose patriotism and philanthropy were the most miserable of shams. We are not going to prophesy, neither shall we attempt any analysis of Henry Ward Beecher's peculiar genius as an orator. Our task, more simple, will be, to weigh his claim to the confidence he is so widely challenging, as a theological light to the Churches. A highly respectable secular journal, whose Saturday circulation is greatly increased by the publication of Mr. Beecher's sermons, asserts that he is a great political leader rather than a theologian. We have it on his own authority, that he chooses to be put in no such category, and to be judged by no such standard. We publish from his own lips, that he belongs to the selfsame class with John, and Peter, and Timothy, and Paul; that his commission and instructions are received from the same Master, and that he proposes to himself the same un |