9a
mm
the TORCH OF REASON, SILVERTON. OREGON. Al’KH. 13, 1S9!>
it is. Y<m are tired of deceit, tired on infant dam nation:
he
d
id
n
’t
know
where.
And
he
A Brand From the Burning.
T hen to th e Bar all th ey drew near,
heard the organ again; this tim e of hypocrisy, tired of the hollow
W ho die in infancy,
And never had or good or bad
R I F F I T H , the reporter loader, and a congregation cboro world. You wish to forsake all
Effected p ere’n a lly ;
wearily folded hie notes on ' He awoke. He straightened up th a t is evil and cling to all th a t is
B ut from th e wom b u n to th e tom b
W ere stra ig h tw a y carried ,
__ Rev Dr. Banting’s long and glanced around to eee if any- good.”
(Or a t th e least ere they tran g ress d.)
Griff
saw
it
was
no
use
to
say
sertnon and leaned forwar.l when body had noticed him , then grabbed
W ho th u s liegan to plead.
the evangelist said, “ Let us p ra y ,” a hym n book and jum ped to Ins any th in g more. He was as th o r
The infants protested against b e
oughly converted to his fate as
till his forehead rested on the edge feet.
ing punished for Adam s sin in an
of the back of the next pew.
W hen Dr. R an t.n g concluded need he. They led him unresisted
argum ent of considerable length:
The m inister prayed long and his invocation, he looked out over — a meek, contrite young m an— up
Then answ ered th e Judge m ost dread :
earnestly in a canting monotone, the audience and saw G r in s head to the altar. And they prayed for
“ God doth such doom forbid,
varied only in effect by the sonor- still bowed as if to the most des- him such long and so m any prayers
T h at m en sh o u ld die eternally
th a t he began to fear seriously th a t
For w hat th ey never did.
ous “ aniens” th a t em anated from perate supplication. He e t en-
But
w hat you call old A dam ’s fall,
all over the church.
couraged at this m anifestation of the city editor would dem and to
And only his trespass,
know where he had spent the last
You call am iss to call it his, ,
G riff’s prayer was, ‘ Lord, I ’m so the S p irit’s striving,
Both his and yours it w as.’
tired !” Then he fell asleep. And
“ Now,” said he, “ 1 want all those tw enty-four hours or so. W ould
the city editor swallow this story
F urther on the Judge says:
no wonder. He had been up «U , who are C hnatian« to stand
H ad you l>een m ade in A dam ’s stead ,
Everybody in the house, except of adventures the assignm ent had
th e night before— poor fellow.
You would like th in g s have w ro u g h t,
brought
about?
Not
he.
And
so in to th e self-sam e woe
He dream ed. H e thought he Griff, rose to their feet.
At last, however, it ended— the
Y ourselves and yours have b ro u g h t.
“
Praise
the
Lord
for
so
m
any,”
was in a great church, sitting alone
m ourning. But th a t was not quite
in a back pew. The sermon was the m inister exclaim ed righteously,
But abating his w rath, and re
all.
surveying
the
fruits
of
the
\\
ord.
over, and the pipes of the im m ense
Dr. R an tin g called upon Griff to lenting a little, G o d delivers the
“
Now,”
he
continued,
looking
organ sent notes trem bling forth
testify before the congregation. final sentence in these words:
askance
at
the
still
m
ourning
Griff,
into the most beautiful harm onies
Y et to com pare y o u r sin w ith th eirs
Griff tried to brave it out.
W ho liv ’d a longer tim e,
he had ever heard. He leaned his “ we shall rem ain standing and
“ I feel,” he said— you could
I
do
confess yours is m uch less,
sing
hymn
No.
249.
And
I
want
elbow on the pew end, and under
T hough ev ’ry sin ’s a crim e.
have
heard
a
pin
drop—
“
I
feel”—
his hand closed his eyes. S ud those who would like to he C hris
A crim e it is; th erefo re in bliss
his voice quavered and he smiled
You m ay not hope to dw ell,
tians
to
sim
ply
rise
to
th
eir
feet—
denly some one touched him lig h t
the
sm
ile
of
the
just,
five
hundred
But
u n to you I shall allow
just rise where you are. All sing.”
ly on the arm. He looked up.
T
he
easiest room in hell.
people thought—“ I feel th a t my
During the first stanza nobody
‘‘Your pardon, sir, hut will you
W hat th a t “ easiest room” is ap
sins— my sins— ”
rose,
hut
the
exhortation
given
in
tell me your name? I set you here
“ Speak out, brother,” a g ra y pears further on:
the
interlude
had
its
apparent
ef
so often in these revival meetings.”
haired saint encouraged.
B ut who can tell th e plagues of hell
It was a wonderfully handsom e fect. The second verse of the hymn
And to rm e n ts e q u isite?
“Sins are for—”
W
ho can relate th e ir dism al sta te
was
begun,
and
it
was
really
this
voung woman, who spoke in a low,
“ Shout, if you w ant to, son,”
Ami
te rro rs in fin ite?
silvery voice. She stood in an a t th a t waked Griff out of his sweet put in an o th er lifetime church m em
W ho fare th e b est am i feel th e least,
Y et feel th a t p u n ish m e n t
titude of religiously-subdued pride, slum ber. When he stood up every
ber.
W
hereby to n a u g h t they would I k *
looking at him — and oh, what glor m inister on the pulpit platform —
Griff did shout, hut it « a s not
b ro u g h t
at
least
a
dozen—cried:
“
Praise
If
God did n o t p rev en t.
ious eyes! Her face was pale with
the kind of shout they anticipated
T he least degree of m isery
a Hort of evangelical excitem ent. the Lord! The Lord h ath tr i rom his swelling— alm o st-to -b u rst
There felt is in c o m p ara b le;
Griff took his tim e to reply. He um phed!”
ing— m anner. It was a shout
The h ig h est pain th ey th e re su stain
The congregation turned and
Is m ore th a n in to lerab le.
stared at her a moment, deliber
som ething like “ ppt-f-f-f-f-f—ha,
B ut G o d ’s own pow ’r from hour to
looked
a
t
the
convert
and
sang
ately.
ha, ha, ho, ho, hoho, ha, ha, h ah a,
hour
with
increased
feeling.
The
m
inis
U
pholds
th em in th e fire,
“ Griff,” he finally said, “or— I
he, he, he, Itehe, he!”
T
h
a
t
th
ey
shall
not consum e a jot
ters,
led
by
Dr.
R
anting,
hastened
m ean— Mr. Griffith to you or, as
He afterw ard told his friends:
Nor by its force ex p ire .
down the aisle. The doctor grasped
you please.”
“ I couldn’t have held in if I had
This poem was immensely popular
“ Mr. Griffith, are you a C hris Griff’s hand and squeezed it with died th<- next m in u te.’’
tian?” she asked at once with great the strength of Samson.
Now another man does the Rev. for more th an a century. Nor did
A nother I). 1)., whose sermons
concern.
Dr. R an tin g ’s revivals for Griff’s all orthodox preachers repudiate in
“ No, miss—or m adam e,” he re Griff had often reported, patting paper.—Selected.
fant dam nation ir. the early p art of
him
on
the
back,
declared:
“
My
plied, with a smile; and with mock
this century. Fifty years ago elderly
m ournfulness, “ I ’m only a news hoy, I have been w aiting for weeks
Anent Infant D am nation.
persons assured me they had heard
to see you ta k e this step.”
paper reporter.”
it preached from the pulpit, and
G riff was, for a brief period, too
She started to laugh, hut recol
The Rev. Dr. Talm age, in a ser
fifty-seven years ago, at the funer
lecting th a t it would be a sin, dazed to speak or to offer any re mon says:
sistance. At length lie stam m ered
checked herself.
“ If you will bring me a P r e s b v - al of my niece, aged seven years,
to
Dr.
R
anting,
who
held
his
arm
“ C an’t you be both?”
terion of good m orals and sound the Rev. E lisha Y ale, D. D., of
in
a
vice-like
grip:
G riff shook his head and gazed
mind who will sav th a t he helieves Kingshoro, N. Y., a P resbyterian,
“ Doctor, I ’m afraid — I think,
a t the carpet in the aisle.
there ever was a hahy in the lost expressed doubt of the salvation of
“ Don’t you feel th a t you could doctor—yes, sir, I was asleep.”
world, or ever will he, I will m ake the child.
T hat doubt is quite
“ Too true, my boy, too tru e,” re
love C hrist who died for you ?”
him a deed to the house I live in .” com patible with the “ Confession of
He looked up quickly into the plied the indefatigable m inister
1 have before me a book en titled
sw’eet, earnest face, and whispered, “ Ah, ‘could ye not watch one “ The Day of Doom,” by Michael F a ith ,” which says:
“ Even infants, dying in infancy,
a little huskily, not loud enough hour?’ ”
W igglesworth, pastor of the church are regenerated and saved by
“ I was very tired when I came
for her to hear: “ I think I could
at M alden, Mass., first published in C hrist, through the Spirit, who
love somebody better who would in, to tell the tru th ,” said Griff, 1662.
The au th o r describes the worketh when and where and how
with the glim m er of a hope of get
live for m e.”
last judgm ent in a poem of 224 He pleaseth.
So also are o ther el
ting out of the predicam ent. But
“ W hat? W hat did you say?’’
stanzas.
Cotton
M ather, who ect persons, who are incapable ot
in the singing and outbursts of
“Oh, nothing.”
preached the funeral serm on of being called by the m inistry of
“ Excuse me, you did, though; praise the explanation was m isun W igglesworth in 1705, said: “ The
yes, it was som ething. Come, tell derstood. Dr. R anting raised his ‘Day of Doom,’ which has been the W ord.” —Chap, x, sec. 3.
At the tim e of th a t funeral I was
voice high above all, saying: “ Our
me now; let me help you.”
often reprinted in both E nglands,
“ You wouldn’t like to hear w hat brother here says he was asleep, may find our children till the day a member of Dr. A ale’s church,
I said— I know you w ouldn’t. I but he is now awakened to a reali itself arrive.” And the epitaph on and I doubt not th a t even then
there were
some Presbyterian
zation of his sin.”
c a n ’t tell vou.”
W igglew orth’s tomb, believed to preachers who believed in infant
“ Doctor,” protested Griff, ap
“ But you have some unhappi
have been w ritten by M other, ends dam nation and avowed it.
But
ness. W on’t you tell m e?”
pealing to another preacher who
with these words:
now you m ight not find a good
H er tone was so gently per- stood by, “ I don’t w ant to deceive
He to hit* P arad ise is joyful com e.
suasive. He was actually about to you. I don’t want to stand here And w aits w ith joy to see his Day of enough P resbyterian to enable one
to win the prize offered by Dr.
Doom.
confess, *'I love you, first; I ca n ’t and play the hypocrite. I— ”
W. H. BI RR.
I now quote Wiggle wort h ’s verses Talm age.
“ We believe you. We know how
help it,” when she slipped away,