.4. If practical work is to have this importance, then, there can be no doubt, we think, that religious revivals must undergo an essential change of method. The word revival has most sacred associations. But it cannot be denied that the sacredness is largely in the associations, which we insensibly make to be essentials. Our revivals in the past have been religious phenomena, breaking out and overpowering common life; invading the order of life; something "poured out," like an inundation, continuing for a short time with striking methods and startling results. Physical demonstrations sometimes add to the solemnity. The Pentecost, attended with scenes and sceneries to signalize the occurrence of a new fact in redemption, is thought to set the pattern of a revival now, and we must have as great similarity of accessories as may be. In times of less intelligence than the present, when preaching was almost the only instrumentality, it was easy in a four days' meeting to gather the people together and produce solemn impressions by distinctively and continuous "revival preaching." And these "precious seasons" are remembered with as much fondness as the Jews remembered their annual festivals. But we think the age of work will alter the case. With clearer conceptions of the Spirit as an abiding power, and of religion as being a part of the daily business, may we not hope for more equable and constant growth in religion, and a revival power through individual influence, supplementing the regular preaching and devotion? As intelligence advances, shall we not distinguish between the essentials and unessentials of a revival, and learn to carry a true religious zeal in individual effort, without breaking the order of life, and without the dangers of older methods. As religion comes to be an earnest work, we hope revival will be a normal thing. 5. It remains to observe the connection between the studies of the past eras and the work of this. No mistake could be more inexcusable than that of intimating any such thing as that theology has had its day; that it is no longer practically useful; that in our active life it cannot be expected to have much influence, and must be remanded to the contemplative age in which it had its birth. On the contrary, we believe it is just coming to its usefulness. We believe the great social and religious problems of the present era can never be solved without it, and that one of the most striking proofs of the hand of God in it is, its adaptation as a working force to the demands of the present. It has been thought out, written out, preached out; can it be worked out? We believe it is sure to be. The great bugbear of Hopkins' "willingness to be damned for the glory of God' is not to be forgotten as an exploded fancy, or to be kept as a relic in the museum of theological curiosities. The underlying truth beneath that awfully intensive phrase is self-sacrifice, grandly illustrated in his own life, when he laid body and soul upon the altar as an offering in behalf of an oppressed race.* He was not far from Paul when he said, "I could wish that myself were accursed from Christ for my brethren." If the theology seems hard, the philanthropy is better than much that has passed current under that name since. And in these days of shallow sentimentalism, when evil receives the polite apotheosis of being "good in the making," it is really refreshing to hear the staunch old theologian say that evil is fit only for damnation, for all himself or anybody else. That awe-inspiring self-sacrifice, rooting itself in the eternal purpose of God, and holding itself at the disposal of his righteous government, is exactly the practical power which the age of work requires, and without which all reforms will fail. In these days when men everywhere jostle each other in the streets, and have no time to think, the fancy is that the gospel for such a busy people must be little more than a pass-word of good will. They want a gospel of love and want it short. The old theology is hard favored. It will never do them any good. But we must not think of Edwards, for instance, as being so far removed from the masses of our day. While weighing out the commercial equivalents of redemption as the astronomer weighs the planets; while holding the scales of even justice over the heads of the people, like the figure over the Court House dome, be yet thought and wrote for the people of our time. What can touch the hearts of the street throngs like this result of his masterly analysis of Christ's suffering? "Christ's love, then, brought his elect infinitely near to him in that great act *Park's Memoirs; passim. and suffering wherein he especially stood for them; . . and his love and pity fixed the idea of them in his mind, as if he had been really they; and fixed their calamity in his mind, as though it really was his . . . as if "actually suffering it in their stead by strong sympathy."* Is such theology to be dreaded as harsh, and dismissed as antiquated by the eager masses of our times, whose every longing seems to say, "Who will show us any good?" Dr. Bushnell, writing for these times, says: "But the bearing of our sins does mean that Christ bore them on his feeling. . . . Every sort of love is found twining its feeling always into the feeling, and loss, and want, and woe, of whatever people or person, or even enemy it loves; thus God himself takes our sinning enmity upon his heart. . Such a God in love must be such a Saviour in suffering."+ These two princes of thought pursued widely different tracks, but sometimes the wheels of their chariots almost grazed each other. And how can the later be thought to be nearer the hearts of suffering humanity, than the earlier? The truth is, there is no interpretation of the gospel for the poor more congenial with their condition now, than that of the fathers of New England theology. In another respect we see this. It is a growing tendency of the times to make much of the individual. The man is not so much forgotten in the mass, as he once was. Our theology firmly supports this popular idea, and has really been the chief originator of it. In its growth of a century it has gradually emancipated the man from that complicity and moral identity with others, which seems to have come into the older theology from the Roman law, and in so doing has enlarged his individual life. In fact most of the more influential popular ideas of the day, the newer aspirations of humanity, spring very directly from these grand institutions of religion; and it is these alone that will develop and satisfy our modern life. Only they must be administered more in the way of work; directer intercourse of man with man; by ingenuities and devices of application; translated it may be, into a more every* Works, vol. i., pp. 604-5. + Vicarious Sacrifice, pp. 46, 47. New Englander, vol. xxxix., p. 447, Art. The Roman Law and Calvinism. day business speech; and in this way for a time at least, find a better vindication than in prolonged discussion. It is an era of work. The busy masses of men will follow some sort of leadership. Speculation in thought, fanaticism in action, empiricisms of all sorts are busy with the people. Unless we are prepared to commit religion to the care of Salvation Armies, or traveling praying bands (however good they may be in their place), our churches must be working bodies with a working, sturdy theology. Our best men must know how to work and must not be afraid to work. Our best men must be Home Missionaries and City Missionaries and organizers of work. We are to teach theology by working it out. "If any man will do his will, he shall know of the doctrine." We must not suppose that the average Sunday school orator, with his blackboards and lesson maps, and question drawers, will meet the case. The great lights must go into the dark places. While the thinking is going on over the great themes of revelation and supernaturalism, many of the best thinkers will have to marshall the working forces of religion. The era as compared with its predecessors seems to require just this. If it does follow the last in a divine plan of succession, it has a moral grandeur corresponding to them. May it not make the past thinking more illustrious than ever, as it shall stand transfigured in an unparalleled advance of the human welfare? ARTICLE II.-THE NEW ENGLAND MEETING HOUSE. THE New England Meeting House is the symbol of much that is characteristic of the New England life. Its erection was the starting point of every one of the earlier New England communities, and it has been the rallying point for nearly everything which is distinctive in their history. Around it are gathered the most interesting associations which bind the New Englander to his early home. For these reasons it has been selected as the topic for a few rambling thoughts which may be appropriate to the present occasion.* * A meeting house supposes an organized community or society of men who have occasion to assemble together at regular intervals of time for the transaction of public business or the discharge of public duties. Inasmuch as the New England settler regarded the meeting house as almost the prime necessity of his life, if not as essential to his existence, he must have recognized himself most distinctly as what Aristotle calls a "political animal," i. e. an animal made for society and holding definite relations to the community. I make this observation because the impression is very commonly entertained that the typical New Englander, with all his excellencies, has pushed individualism to an extreme; that in his vivid sensibility to his private interests and rights he has often been insensible to his public duties, and that in excessive responsibility for himself he became altogether too careless of his fellowmen. Hence as is reasoned, the tenacity and general impracticability with which he is supposed to have exemplified the right of private judgment. Hence the pertinacity with which he demanded a reason for every doctrine and measure, and the slowness with which he was convinced. Hence the silly stiffness with which, as some flippant critics insist, he rejected the rites and usages of what is called "the historic church" of England, and tried every existing practice and arrangement in church and state by some ideal standard of im * Read by request before the New England Society of Brooklyn, N. Y., on the evening of Dec. 5, 1882. |