PRINCIPLE AND PASSION; by Eld. E. Goodrich

The Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Jan 29, 1867

FromReview and Herald, Vol. 29, No. 8.

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PRINCIPLE AND PASSION;

By Eld. E. Goodrich

OR

How to Establish the Heart.

BY ELD. E. GOODRICH.

(Concluded.)

In treating upon passion, it may be noticed that many of its properties are negative. Passion is blind, passion deceives, passion is partial, acting only in one direction, without the power of reaction. There are no regulating forces, no self-sustaining powers in passion, but like the burning of a lamp it consumes both its possessor and its victim. Passion stands related to principle as creature objects to creative power, as circumstances to settled truth. The former may cease, but not the latter. This thought is expressed by our Saviour, Matt. xxiv, 35. “Heaven and earth shall pass away, but my word shall not pass away.” And as an additional thought, it may be interesting to state that all the preaching and teachings of Jesus are but embodiments of principle applied to practical life.

From the above argument, it is manifest that passion is temporal. And how any one of sane mind could have conceived the idea that sin in any form, or against any just and sovereign law, can be immortal, or originate from an immortal cause, is quite unaccountable. The argument in form would be, any action that admits of criticism, any action not having the power of reaction, and any action opposed by a superior force, must cease; therefore sin must cease. But notwithstanding the argument may be regarded as sound, yet before it can be claimed in any given case, it may be necessary to show that the law transgressed is superior to the transgression. As an instance in which the superiority of law over an opposing force is demonstrated, we may take one of those monster cannons used for the purpose of sinking large ships, demolishing forts, or bombarding cities at a great distance. The gun, after it is placed upon its framework of timber, loaded, and elevated at a proper angle to reach the object sought, is discharged. The effect upon the by-stander is appalling. He is nearly thrown from his standing. The earth is made to rock and tremble as though the thunders of heaven had broken forth, and every sense is benumbed and horrified by the terrificness of the scene. And as he thus stands listening to the unearthly screeching and screaming of the ball as it passes through the air, it seems as though nothing could stand before so tremendous a power; but as he watches with the eye, or glass, or in his mind contemplates, a circle is described by this ball in mid-air, and only a few seconds elapse before this missile of death and destruction is seen pitching headlong to the earth and rolls along the ground a harmless and inert thing. Why is this? It is because the law of attraction, the attraction of gravitation, holds complete, universal, and sovereign jurisdiction over every action of matter, whether at rest or in motion, whether animate or inanimate; and it is superior to all opposing forces.

And this great question of sin and misery in our earth has ever perplexed and puzzled the human mind, and the question is often asked, Why is it, if there is a God, a God of mercy and goodness, who rules and reigns in righteousness and truth, and who will render to every man according to his deeds, Why is it that our world is filled with oppression, iniquity, and crime, blood oftentimes touching blood, while the innocent are made to suffer instead of the guilty? The declaration is sometimes made, “Whatever is, is right.” Others conclude there is no such God as represented in the Scriptures, a God whose eyes are everywhere, beholding the evil and the good, and whose law is spiritual, taking cognizance of, and weighing every mental as well as overt action. The only correct solution of the problem is, that God rules and reigns, and sin is temporal. It is just as easy to demonstrate the existence of moral principles as to show the existence of any other kind of principles; and it is just as reasonable to argue and conclude that there will be a harvest of moral action, as that there will be any other kind of harvest. To deny this, would be to deny the whole question of man's moral existence; for where there is animated existence there is action, and where there is action there must be result, whether the result is marked by failure or success.

Perhaps a simple and appropriate illustration of the workings and properties of a principle, may be had by a reference to “the old family clock.” There it stands in the kitchen corner, with its long dark case, just as it has stood for twenty years or more, ticking, ticking, ticking, and keeping time. It is a kind of heir-loom, having descended from father to son, through several generations, yet it is the same faithful friend, never stopping, never weary or discouraged, but through cold and heat, through days, weeks, and even years, through evil report as well as good report, for friend and foe, for the gentle housewife, for old dog Tray, for the crickets in the hearth, and even when there is none to hear, it keeps on ticking, ticking, ticking, measuring time, and with faithful finger marking every event from the cradle to the grave. It shows the joyous moment when the first infant wailing breaks upon the ear; it points to the happy moment when loving hearts are joined in lifelong union, as they stand surrounded with friends, and just in front of the mirror, all wreathed with flowers and evergreens, and it also marks with solemn, measured strokes, the hour when the good man dies. And were it not for the mere circumstance of wear and winding, the old clock would keep on ticking, ticking, ticking, forever. This is but the work of a principle, the attraction of gravitation that always acts in a certain direction, and with the same velocity and power.

In this example we have demonstrated an established action, an action that is self-sustaining, and right, beyond criticism. And in our contemplations of this interesting and sublime theme, we should never lose sight of the principle in the object through which the power manifests itself. The old clock is but an instrument. It may be perfect or imperfect, or it may be annihilated, yet the principle remains the same. By this we learn the important lesson—the sum of all lessons, that the instrument should be made with reference to the principle,—the creature must act with the Creator, or cease. But the history of the world is, that man has ever sought to reverse this order, by bending the truth to his own crooked, selfish purposes, and he worship and serve the creature instead of the Creator. And in matters of religion, as well as in social or political life, (as there are always more or less mean men in every party) one is painfully and constantly annoyed by personal thrusts against opposite parties, or disgusted with the homage that the multitude pay to their own particular party, or its representatives. It is true that good deeds are always connected with good persons, neither can crime be punished while the criminal goes free, yet we should follow the person only as he follows the principle, and every question should be discussed upon its own merits, and not made to depend upon the consistency or hypocrisy of its advocates. This rule is strictly observed in the scientific world, and it should be in the religious. It may

be proper to observe at this point of remark that truth does not always exist in the form of principles, but is frequently found in the form of events and objects, which events and objects may possess a certain amount of interest or value; yet in all these cases the good thus derived is temporary. A handful of grain, inasmuch as it represents the principle of organized vegetable life, bearing the impress of the Creator, and having the power of repeating itself, possesses infinite value. But if the same grain is ground into flour or meal, although it has value as a means of sustaining life, yet it has no value as a principle, for it cannot be repeated or increased. Again these wonderful events narrated in novels or romantic tales, may be true as facts, but they are not true as a rule. They are true only as an exception to the rule, for in the overwhelming majority of instances no such events occur, and they whose opinion of real life is founded on such representations are destined to disappointment.

And again, as man is possessed of the sentiments of faith and hope, and the heart cannot be established if these be neglected, it is proper to notice that events of incalculable interest may exist in the form of certainties, warranted by principle, while they do not exist as facts. The death of our Saviour, as a fact, occurred less than two thousand years ago; yet, as a verity, it existed, was preached and believed, ages before. Hence the mind in all its searchings after knowledge, in all its anticipations and pursuits after happiness, should be trained to apprehend principles.

But I shall weary you. I must hasten to close. And in making a practical application of the foregoing argument to the subject, and in briefly referring to a few lessons (in some of which we find the absence, and in others the presence, of moral principles) the question may be asked, How can the heart be established? Can passion establish the heart? Can passion in any or in every form yield that perfect and perpetual happiness which the mind of man so intuitively and earnestly craves? The answer is, No! it never can. The only way in which the heart can find that rest and peace for which it ever pants, is by obedience to those sovereign and divine principles that govern us in all our relations to God, to our fellows, and to ourselves. The first great commandment that reads “And thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thine heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy might,” Deut. vi, 5, contains but a principle. The Golden Rule, which says, “And as ye would that men should do to you, do ye also to them,” likewise is only a principle expressed. And how beautiful the principle. It binds one man to another. As it binds the latter to the former, like the vibrations of the pendulum, the action is this way, and that way; this way, and that way; as far this way as that way; and it keeps on ticking, ticking, ticking, having God as the great law of universal attraction. Again we have exhibited to view the principle upon which God forgives our sins. We have it in the language, “And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors,” Matt. vi, 12. But the time would fail to speak of all those holy and just principles that underlie and that are woven into the system of Christianity. Let us for a few moments consider unprincipled action. The man who prays for mercy for himself but will not grant it to others, and the man who votes for liberty for himself and party, yet is unwilling that others should enjoy the same priceless boon, is in both these cases selfish and unprincipled; it is not this way, and that way, it is only this way.

All creature worship is unprincipled action. Every profane and idle word, every envious and malicious thought, and every proud and covetous feeling, is an example of unprincipled action. And when the final reckoning day, that sifting, shaking time, shall come, when all things will be shaken that can be shaken, and only that remain that cannot be shaken—when the kingdom of God (not simply a kingdom of principles, but a kingdom established on principles) shall come, then shall all works and workers of iniquity cease forever. But there is no need of waiting until the judgment of the great day to know whether sin is or—is not hateful, or whether the heart can or cannot be established by unprincipled action. We may know now, for God has implanted in every human breast, in the mind of every rational and moral agent, a sense of right and wrong, and wherever there is a capacity to know and enjoy, there is a like capacity to suffer; and every person, whether covetous, proud, blasphemous, or otherwise, who violates his own convictions of truth and duty, whether living in heathen lands, or under the blazing light of divine revelation, will find his own life but a living demonstration both of the utter emptiness of all earthly joys, and the truth, that “there is no peace to the wicked saith my God.”

And as the ungodly man approaches the river of death, and that long dark night of despair “that has no more beyond it and no star,” a horror settles down upon him; and when near and sympathizing friends gather around his dying bed, to comfort and inquire how he feels, as he takes the proffered hand with solemn words and look, and in a tone which no one can imitate he says, “Oh! it is all wrong! It is all wrong! My life has all been wrong!”

These are no fancy sketches, but pictures of real life. And we have even in this world a foretaste of that which is to come, a foretaste both of the joys that await the blessed, and of that blackness, and darkness, and death—the doom of the ungodly forever. Oh! how solemn the reflection that we are in a world ruled by sovereign and inflexible law; and as we sow so must we reap. Oh! how important that we dig deep and build upon a sure foundation.

But the subject is endless, and I must close, praying that the God of all grace may establish our hearts. Amen.