He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment seat;
Oh, be swift my soul, to answer Him! be jubilant, my feet!
Our God is marching on.’
“And even to-day, while so many are afraid to trust God, afraid to hope that all this commotion shall end gloriously, let us believe that the same Power which conquered devils among the Gadarenes, healed most desperate maladies in the region of His pilgrimage, and raised the cold dead to life again, will give us the great victory. Brethren, give to the winds your fears!
“A word in view of our national truth. Bless God! in our prosperous North, that has been full and free; and it shall be as enduring as the Plymouth Rock, where it first breasted the New World’s winter and storm. That Truth is Christian liberty, unalloyed and untrammeled, the Pilgrim fathers’ treasure; that is the citizen-children’s inheritance, and it shall be perpetuated. The ‘Mayflower’ weathered the storms of a December Atlantic. The blood she brought to America courses now in so many veins, and the spirit life at Plymouth planted, is to-day so thrilling all true Christian hearts, that this strife must end in proclamation of a Gospel to the poor. These we have with us always. Let the people—the whole people, have the Truth—the whole Truth—and nothing but the Truth. If this include body and conscience-liberty, be not afraid of that, and let the good news go forth to captive ones. Truth is used to storms. It has battled and beaten before. Itself bled on Calvary, grappled with Death, and conquered the monster on the marble floor of the new sepulchre, and is to-day a risen Sun of Righteousness, dawning upon the nations!
“The Pilgrim fires, kindled so long ago on the cold New England shores, shall yet dart light and warmth to earth’s remotest bounds. America must evangelize the world. But not yet. Not until all human fetters shall have been melted, and all tyranny consumed at home. If it takes fire to purify the people and burn out oppression, then blow, ye winds of heaven, and fan the flames! Let our nation be the land of slaves and sorrow no longer. Give us, O, thou Ruler of men, a home-land of freedom and of Gospel light! Then our missionary efforts will be successful. Then the day of vain mockery at our own pagan idols and wicked worship of the world’s trinity, Gold-power-honor, will be for ever ended. Then the true God shall be honored, when His human image is disenthralled, when all hearts and voices publish the good news throughout the land; then shall the high hallelujah melody,
‘Sound the loud timbrel o’er Egypt’s dark sea—
Jehovah hath triumphed—his people are free!’
ring a joy unspeakable to the benighted sons of heathendom abroad. And the warbling melody, sweeter and richer far than the notes of a bugle-band, shall fill and thrill the very desert airs of Africa. The wild men of Ethiopia shall catch the sounding song, and leap as harts on the mountains. The inhabitants of the far-off sea-islands shall hear the sweet gospel pæan, and welcome a religion that sounds liberty to the captive.