"From the foul sloughs and marshes
I've gathered many a stain;
I've heard old voices calling
From far across the plain.
Now, in my wretched weakness,
Fearful and sad I wait,
And every refuge fails me,
Here at the wicket-gate.
"And will the portals open
To me who roamed so long
Filthy and vile and burdened
With this great weight of wrong?
Hark! a glad voice of welcome
Bids my wild fears abate.
Look! for a hand of mercy
Opens the wicket-gate.
"On, to the palace Beautiful
And the bright room called Peace!
Down, to the silent river,
Where thou shalt find release!
Up, to the radiant city,
Where shining ones await!
On! for the way of glory
Lies through the wicket-gate."
DIFFICULTIES OF THE BIBLE.
[DIFFICULTIES OF THE BIBLE
AS TESTED BY
THE LAWS OF EVIDENCE.][1]
One has to breathe but little of the atmosphere of popular thought to-day to find how full it is of religious doubt. Parental faiths count for little. The beliefs of childhood, the teachings of the sainted dead, the hopes that once brightened the darkness and mysteries and griefs of life with the light of a cloudless future, are to multitudes no more. "The eclipse of faith" has come, and souls are drifting out upon the starless, shoreless sea of unbelief. They see "the spring sun shining out of an empty heaven to light up a soulless earth." They take up the wail of despair: "We are all to be swept away in the final ruin of the earth." This is the deep, pathetic undertone of the sighing of a thousand hearts to-day.
Has life anything real? Is it worth living? When the little play is over, and the hour's music is ended, and the lights are out, and we go forth into the darkness of the final night—what then? Is it darkness for ever? or is there the light of an eternal day? Who knows? Is anything certain? Must nations and men and the evening-moth alike go down and perish for ever under the crush of an inexorable fate? Is there no rift in this cloud? Have we no anchor that will hold as the storm drives us on through the blinding mists and gloom to the eternal shore? Have we no sure word of promise to which we can cling when everything else around us and under our feet is giving way?