Under its influence several were led, almost carried by
force, into the anxious seats.
It was hard not to fancy the gentle Christ looking down upon the scene
with a pain as great as that with which he yearned over Jerusalem. I
longed for some instant miracle to be wrought on the spot, by which there
should come floating down from the peaceful blue sky, through the sweet
tree-tops, some of the loving and serene words of balm from his Gospel.
Theologians may theorize, and good Christians may differ (they always
will) as to the existence, extent, and nature of future punishment; but
the fact remains indisputably clear that, whether there be less or more of
it, whether it be of this sort or of that, fear of it is a base motive to
appeal to, a false motive to act from, and a worthless motive to trust in.
Perfect love does not know it; spiritual courage resents it; the true
Kingdom of Heaven is never taken by its "violence."
Somewhere (I wish I knew where, and I wish I knew from whose lips) I once
found this immortal sentence: "A woman went through the streets of
Alexandria, bearing a jar of water and a lighted torch, and crying aloud,
'With this torch I will burn up Heaven, and with this water I will put out
Hell, that God may be loved for himself alone.
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