After the image is consecrated, the worship begins. The devotee comes near the image, and falls down before it. He then twists himself into a great variety of shapes. Sometimes he sits on the floor, sometimes he stands, sometimes he looks in one direction, sometimes in another. Then he sprinkles the idol with holy water, rinses its mouth, washes its feet, wipes it with a dry cloth, throws flowers over it, puts jewels on it, offers perfumes to it, and finishes by performing shaashtaangkum.
The worship of the idol is succeeded by a season of carousing, joy, and festivity. On this occasion, large offerings are made to the idols. A rich native has been known to offer eighty thousand pounds of sweetmeats, eighty thousand pounds of sugar, a thousand suits of cloth garments, a thousand suits of silk, a thousand offerings of rice, plantains, and other fruits.
Bloody sacrifices are offered up on such occasions. The king of Nudiya, some time ago, offered a large number of sheep, goats, and buffaloes on the first day of the feast, and vowed to double the offering every day; so that the whole number sacrificed amounted to more than sixty-five thousand. You may remember that king Solomon offered up on one occasion twenty-two thousand oxen, and a hundred and twenty thousand sheep. If all the animals slain throughout Hindostan, at the festival of the goddess Durga, were collected together, they would amount to a much larger number than Solomon offered.
After the worship and offerings have been continued for three days, the festival closes. As the morning of the first day was devoted to the consecration of the images, the morning of the fourth is spent in unconsecrating them. This work is done by the Brahmins. They profess, by various ceremonies, to send back the goddess to her heaven, concluding with a farewell address, in which they tell her that they expect her to accept of all their services, and return and pay them a visit again in the coming year. Then all unite in bidding her a sorrowful adieu, and many seem affected even to the shedding of tears.
Soon afterwards the images are carried forth into the streets, placed on stages or platforms, and raised on men's shoulders. As the procession moves onward through the streets, accompanied with music and songs, amid clouds of dust, you might see them waving long hairy brushes to wipe off the dust, and to keep off the flies and mosquitoes, which might trouble the senseless images. But where are these processions going? To the banks of the Ganges. And for what purpose? For the purpose of casting the images into the river. When all the ceremonies connected with the occasion are finished, those who carry the images suddenly fall upon them, break them to pieces, and then throw them with violence into the river. After this the people return to their homes.
I have now given you a specimen of the image-worship of the Hindoos; and how different is it from the worship which the Bible enjoins. "God is a Spirit; and they who worship him, must worship him in spirit and in truth." The very reverse of this, as you have seen, marks the worship of the heathen. They are not satisfied, unless they can have some object before them, to which they can make their offerings and their prayers. Thus daily are they engaged in a service which, above all others, is the most offensive and provoking to a holy God—a service which has caused him to declare, that idolaters shall not enter the kingdom of heaven. This, too, is the service in which every person, who has never given himself to the Saviour, is engaged; and, of course, in which you are engaged if you have not given your hearts to him. Those who think more of their money than they think of Christ, just as certainly worship the image which is stamped on a dollar or a cent, as the heathen worship their idols. Those who love their fathers and mothers, and brothers and sisters more than Christ, make these their idols. And are you, my dear children, yet out of Christ? If so, you have your idols. And what are these idols? Are they the world and its vanities? Then God is as angry with you as he is with the heathen, and unless you give up these idols, you too must be lost.
In a tract of mine, published by the American Tract Society, entitled, "Knocking at the Door"—a tract which I most earnestly entreat you to get and read—you will find an account of the death of a young lady, who had chosen the world and its vanities as her idols. I was her physician. After having attended her for about a month, I perceived, one morning, that her disease must soon prove fatal. I told her that she could not live. She then exclaimed, "Doctor, can I not live a month?" I informed her that she could not. Again she exclaimed, "Can I not live two weeks?" She was told that she could not live two weeks. And such a scene of horror followed as I never before witnessed, and may God be pleased to grant that I may never witness such another. Until laid upon a dying bed, I fear that she had neglected to think about her soul's concerns. Now she requested to be taken from it, and placed upon her knees, that she might call upon God to have mercy upon her. As her case excited much attention, some of the youth came to see her. These she warned, in the most solemn manner, not to put off repentance, as she had done, to a dying hour. Looking up at me, on one occasion, she exclaimed, "Doctor, cannot you save me?" Alas, what could I do for the poor sufferer. Witness, now, how anxious she was to obtain the favor of that God whom she had hitherto neglected. Yes, so anxious that she requested her friends not to allow her to sleep, that she might spend every remaining breath in calling upon God to have mercy upon her. One very affecting circumstance occurred. She requested her trunk either to be brought to her bedside, or to be opened. From this a ring, which was set with red garnets, was taken out by herself, or by another, and handed to her. She then called a young friend to her bedside, put the ring upon her finger, and said to her, "Don't you put off repentance, as I have done, until a dying hour." That ring is now in my possession. In less than forty-eight hours after I told her that she could not live, she passed into eternity. Would that I could show you that mournful countenance, which continued long after the last spark of life had become extinct; yes, even up to the moment when the lid of her coffin for ever hid it from our view. Never, never shall I forget it. It was a sad monument of the wreck within.
Now, my dear children, you would not like to die as, I fear, this young lady died. Well, then, if you would die differently, you must live differently. You must live for Christ, if you would die in Christ. And are you Christ's, or are you yet gay and thoughtless—as gay and as thoughtless as this young lady was, until laid upon her dying bed? If you are so, and if you continue to remain in this sad condition, your season of sorrow too will certainly come, and it will come when you expect it not. As the little insect which flies round and round your candle is dazzled with its brightness, and feels nothing but pleasure, until it unconsciously strikes the blaze with its little wings, and is swallowed up in the flame; so you are dazzled with the pleasures of the world, thinking nothing of the flames which may swallow you up in a moment, and put a stop to all your joys for ever. O, that the death-bed scene of Miss Matthews might have a happy effect upon you. O, that the solemn warning which she gave to her young friend, not to put off repentance as she had done, until a dying hour, might continue to sound in your ears, until you would no longer delay repentance. My dear children, this young lady, though dead, yet speaketh. She speaks to you. She calls upon you from her tomb—from the eternal world, to delay repentance no longer. Will you, then, be so mad as to turn a deaf ear to this call? Will you ever take another sip from the cup of unhallowed pleasure? Will you ever direct your little feet to the ballroom, or other places of sinful amusement? Will you hereafter prefer your worldly joys to Christ? O, you must not, you must not. It will not do for you to be lost. Who, O who can lie down in everlasting burnings? Who can dwell for ever with devouring flames?