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display the worst form and darkest spirit of superstition, and do the work, not of Christ, but of Belial.
The times are ominous for the Church. Portentous clouds, heavily charged with dangerous and threatening fire, are gathering in thickening gloom over her horizon; and hence the need, on the part of the Church, of the wisdom of the serpent and the harmlessness of the dove. Ecclesiastics should be more than ordinarily cautious of not placing the Church in a false position before the view of the world; for never were the masses of the people passing from within her pale as they are now doing; never were the enemies of Christianity so panoplied, arrayed, united, energetic, and mustered in such scientific battle array, as they at present are. But little do they perceive that the firebrands which they are so actively and thickly scattering over the ranks of an ignorant and erroneous civilisation, to destroy the Church of Christ, are the very elements which, while they will scorch the Church, will consume themselves — destroy, as adversaries, the worldly millions of a nominal Christianity.
What, however, the Church has most to dread is, not the attacks of her infidel or semi-infidel foes, but the mistaken Christianity of her weak, though well-meaning, friends. This has been the means of her greatest weakness, in all ages—the incubus which clogs her strength, retards her progress, and sullies her beauty—an incubus which requires an almost convulsive effort to throw off, but of which she must rid herself, ere she will appear in the glory of her Lord, and become the joy of the whole earth.
Christianity in danger! Yes, when the Self-existent God and all finite being have perished in an utter annihilation! She is founded on a rock, and the gates of hell cannot prevail against her. She is too dear to the Father, Son, and Spirit; she has cost the Godhead too precious blood, and her sons too much suffering, to be neglected by the One or forsaken by the others. Her trials, her groans, her self-sacrifices, are the means of her existence, her purification, and strength. She was born in pangs; she has been cradled in persecutions; she grows, thrives, triumphs in self-sacrifice. She has already triumphed over the most subtle, artful, powerful of enemies; she has overcome the most formidable oppositions possible to her; she has passed through the severest trials that can assail her; and she has proved herself superior to every opposition.
And the ordeal which now awaits her is one that she is more than equal to. The ordeal of a scientific scorching is what she longs for. Such will bring her forth from the encumbrances of superstition, all radiant in the glorious robes of her scientific light. Do the admirers of science, who are hurling their fragments of discovery against the truths of Scripture, know, or will they allow themselves to perceive, that Christianity is the most scientific thing in existence—the all-comprehensive science of being—the science which embraces within her the science
