"We have often been asked why we preach the doctrine we profess, as this doctrine maintains that our Creator has made the eternal state secure to all men, and that the happiness of that state rests on the divine favor, and not on any influence which we may exercise in this life. No doubt it seems unaccountable to our opposers that we should argue so much, preach so much, and write and publish so much, when, after all, we do not pretend that our eternal state of happiness depends on these exertions. They do not see why, allowing our doctrine true, it would not be good policy to say nothing about it. Then we might enjoy the esteem of the pious of all denominations, and be regarded by the religious community, avoid all the censure that is now put upon us, and still enjoy our opinion in silence. Now that our conduct in this respect is not so unaccountable as our opposers seem to think, a few remarks will serve to show.

"Suppose my acquaintance with my earthly father to be such as to give me the most favorable opinion of his whole character, so that I view him as one of the best husbands, one of the most provident and kind fathers, and a man of uprightness in all his conduct, against whom nothing in truth can be spoken. Suppose, under these circumstances, being full of love and reverence for my father, I hear him evilly spoken of, and that too by those who profess to be acquainted with him,—yea, by those to whom people in general look for information, and in whose testimony the most of people are disposed to place confidence. They go so far in this evil speaking as to represent the parent, whom I love, as guilty of acts of injustice and cruelty which deny him the smallest share of humanity.

"What am I to do in this case? I have proof in my hands to stop the mouths of these evil reporters, and I can do it effectually. To be sure, I must exert myself in the use of the means which are at my disposal, and I shall no doubt incur the displeasure of my father's traducers. All this is, of course, to be expected. But here I am told that almost all the people composing the community at large, are really of the opinion of those who thus speak evil of my father; and that, even if I knew these reports to be false, I had better say nothing about the matter, as it will only bring me into discredit. Suppose I should be weak enough to hesitate, and even shrink from the defence of my venerable father's character, should I not feel justly ashamed of myself? What could be more base in me than silence and inaction?

"Look again, and see how such a case would be aggravated by circumstances. My father told me that these traducers would speak evil of him, and on this very account put into my possession every kind of evidence which is necessary to refute all these evil reports, and charged me, by the dear relation in which we stood to each other, and the love which we have reciprocated, to be faithful in the defence of his character. Shall I be silent? Shall I be afraid that those who despise my father will also despise me? Shall I purchase their smiles at the expense of a character which is dearer to me than my life? What would it avail to urge in this case, that almost every one in the community would be against me? Is not this circumstance my justification? Surely; for, if people did not believe the false reports before mentioned, there would be no use of disproving them.

"But the subject admits of argument still more forcible. Suppose those who speak evil of my father are my brethren, and his own beloved children; and suppose, furthermore, that all who are deceived by this evil speaking are so likewise. We now have the whole difficulty in our family. My brethren are deceived concerning my father's character and conduct; he has never done those base things which they think he has. But they really believe these errors, and are tormented day and night with fear that they and their children will fall under the dreadful scourge of our father's wrath! Now, as I know that all their notions are false, and that it is a fact that the whole family are abundantly provided for, day by day, by the kindness and love of our father, can I, under these circumstances, be justified in not making even an effort to convince them of their errors? Here we see the honor of our father, the cause of truth and justice, all unite in calling upon me to open the evidence which our father has put within my hands for this purpose,—to give the knowledge of the truth to those who need it. With all these matters forcibly impressed upon my heart, which I have given to you in this simple form, how can I justify myself in doing otherwise than I do, humbly endeavoring at all times to dispel the cloud of error that partialists have contrived to throw about the received idea of our Father in heaven,—how can I reconcile it to my own heart to avoid doctrine, and preach aught else to the people while they starve for truth?"

Mr. Ballou was declared to be aggressive, in his spiritual warfare, as well as defensive; and so he was. Every great reformer must be so; every one that has left a worthy title to that name has done likewise. With a great truth to promulgate, with new light to diffuse, with a subtle enemy to encounter, it would not have been enough for him to take a position and hold it; the war must be carried into the enemy's country, and the white cross of truth must be made to surmount the loftiest points in the castles of error, and to float over the banners of infidelity and partialism. And this was his mode of warfare against bigotry. He spared neither himself nor the common enemy; his standard was reared everywhere, even in the very citadel of his religious opponents; and, strong in the gospel truths he advocated and trusted in, their arrows of wrath, steeped in the poison of superstition, found no unguarded point in his armor of gospel mail, but fell harmless to the earth, or more frequently rebounded to the harm of those who had sent them. His warfare against error was indeed aggressive; he seized upon every weak point, and never failed to thrust home. "I call God to witness," he says, "I feel no enmity towards any name, denomination or sect, under heaven; but I have a certain object in view which comes in contact with their errors."

Again he says:—

"In all the statements which I have made of the doctrinal ideas of others, I have been careful to state no more than what I have read in authors, or heard contended for in preaching and conversation; and if I have, in any instance, done those ideas any injustice, it was not intended.

"The reason," he continues, "why I have not quoted any author, or spoken of any denomination, is, I have not felt it to be my duty nor inclination to write against any name or denomination in the world; but my object has been, what I pray it ever may be, to contend against error, wherever I find it, and to receive truth and support it, let it come from what quarter it may. For the sake of ease, however, in writing, I have reasoned with my opponent, opposer or objector, meaning no one in particular, but any one who uses the arguments and states the objections which I have endeavored to answer.

"It is very probable that some may think me too ironical, and in many instances too severe on what I call error. But I find it very difficult to expose error, so as to be understood by all, without carrying, in many instances, my arguments in such a form as may not be agreeable to those who believe in what I wish to correct. I confess I should have been glad to have written, on all my inquiries, so as not to have displeased any, but to have pleased all, could I have done it and accomplished my main design; but this, I was persuaded, would be difficult. I have, therefore, paid particular attention to nothing but my main object, depending on the goodness of my reader to pardon what may be disagreeable, in manner or form, as inadvertencies." But all he did and said was in the spirit of the true Christian. He fought against error,—not against those who walked in the ways of error; it was a creed he decried, not his fellow-men;—and the battles he won were far more glorious than the blood-stained fields that follow in the train of mortal warfare.