It e’er has been the arch-deceiver’s plan, E’en since his triumph in the fall of man, To cause mankind to grope their tedious ways In errors dark or superstition’s maze; The plain requirements of God’s word to leave, And vain traditions practice and believe.
And, strange to credit, that the very first Of his deceptions ranks among the worst. Though old in mischief, still that grievous lie First spoke to Eve, “Thou shalt not surely die,” He whispers still; though everywhere around The blighting marks of sin and death are found, Yet his success is quite as good as then, To palm this falsehood on the sons of men.
I stand amazed! and can but wonder why Man still should cling to this Satanic lie, And fondly dream ’twas the Creator’s plan To give a deathless soul to mortal man. Strange inconsistency! and yet ’tis true That men to-day indorse this foolish view, Though in the Bible they can plainly see That God alone “hath immortality.”
Ah, it must please the fiends of darkness well That men believe the foolish lies they tell, And leave the Bible, where God’s truth they find, And close their eyes, contented to be blind! As a result, two classes now we see, Who (strange to tell) in one respect agree,— That when man dies, his soul begins its race Far, far “beyond the bounds of time and space,” An immaterial something, free to soar, No more unconscious than it was before!
But here they part. One class believe and teach That all are saved; and thus they fondly preach: It matters not how full of crime and vice, The soul, at death, escapes to Paradise. For thus they reason: God is good and kind, Compassionate, and true to all mankind. For this short life of sin they cannot tell How a good God could doom a soul to hell! If I believed the soul of man to be Destined to live through all eternity, I should be driven to this very view, As most consistent, merciful, and true.
But in my open Bible there can I Read that “the soul that sinneth it shall die;” And ancient Israel’s inspired king Declares that dead men “know not anything.” As I believe the word of God is given To teach mankind the only way to Heaven, Dare I indorse what the deceiver saith, And, careless, choose the road that leads to death? It matters not, the enemy’s aware, Which path we take, if it but leads us there.
The other class affirm there is a hell, Where wicked spirits must forever dwell. To feel the weight of God’s most vengeful ire Amid the lake of hell’s eternal fire. But if at death man’s sure reward is given, And his free spirit soars to hell or Heaven, ’Tis passing strange, that truth so vast and broad Should have no mention in the word of God: ’Tis passing strange that God should ever make Such an egregious, direful mistake! Could it have been the purpose of the Lord To shut this out of Inspiration’s word? No: in that Book the plainest proof is found That the whole being slumbers in the ground; And there must rest, unconscious, in the dust, The rich and poor, the wicked and the just, Till, as Paul says, the trump of God shall sound, When all the dead in Christ shall leave the ground, And soar away, immortal, blest, and fair, To meet their great Redeemer in the air.
But some believe as if the passage read, Not “meet the Lord,” but “meet their souls,” instead, Now, while the righteous dead are quickened first, All those remain who are pronounced accursed. Until the second resurrection, when They too are recompensed, and not till then.
But some will say, “How gloomy it appears, That holy men must sleep so many years; That good old Abraham and righteous Noah, Who died in faith so many years ago, Must slumber, soul and body, in the dust Until the resurrection of the just. Do such forget that all the slumbering dead Need not the lapse of time?—for sense has fled. But if they were in Heaven, it seems to me Their happy voices could not silent be. How could they cease their shouts of joy to raise Till Heaven’s dome re-echoed with their praise? Indeed, I’m sure that no account is given Of any mute and silent tongues in Heaven; But let us see what good King David said About the voices of the silent dead. We quickly turn to the inspired word, And thus we read, “The dead praise not the Lord!” Then to this sound conclusion I must come, In Heaven or hell they surely must be dumb!
But if to Heaven their righteous souls have flown, And there they reap what they on earth have sown, We’ll surely find the psalmist ’mong the rest, In those fair mansions of the good and blest. But has his soul ascended to the sky? The apostle Peter answers in reply (A truthful statement we believe is given), “He hath not yet ascended into Heaven:” The soul of David hath not flown away, “But sees corruption even to this day;” And human logic scarcely could convince An honest man that he has risen since. ’Tis quite consistent I must hold this view, Or else believe the apostle’s word untrue.
Another thing quite strange appears to me, We’re told to seek for immortality. This strange enigma I could never guess, Why we should seek for what we now possess.
Though Satan’s dogmas finally must fail, And mighty Truth eventually prevail, Yet stubborn Error still alive is found To battle hard for every inch of ground, And raise a thousand direful alarms To frighten sinners from the Saviour’s arms.
Confused ideas from God’s book are wrenched About the “fire” which never can be quenched,” Where the immortal, never-dying soul Forever burns, while endless ages roll. Though hotter and hotter grows the burning flame, The soul of man continues just the same!
I wonder, now, if they could ever tell Who thus believe in an eternal hell, Of what material the soul is made To stand such treatment in the realms of shade. I really think a theory more absurd Could not be drawn from the inspired word! “But with this ‘quenchless flame’ what can you do,” They quickly ask, “unless our theory’s true?”
Suppose, my friend, your building was on fire, The hungry flames still reaching higher, higher, Though skilful firemen ply their engines well, In vain they strive the fiery waves to quell. “Hold on,” you cry (and I should say the same), “You need not battle with that quenchless flame!” But in a thousand years from now, I pray, Will it be burning as it is to-day? And further still: as centuries roll on, And million times ten million years are gone, ’Twould scarce be reasonable to say, I trow, This “quenchless flame” would burn as bright as now!
So God shall burn the wicked, just the same, Till there remains no more to feed the flame. I think this illustration just and good, And that my logic must be understood. The prophet says that they who cherish sin Shall finally “be as though they had not been.” The fire of God his enemies shall slay, And “into smoke they shall consume away.”
There is one theory I am certain must Strike any man as cruel and unjust, That every kind of wickedness should be Punished alike, through all eternity! This senseless fable men attempt to prove From the same Book that tells us “God is love.”
Let me illustrate: Here is Mr. A., An upright man, so all his neighbors say; A man who scorns to act a selfish part, But never yet to Christ has given his heart: Now bring the wretch who on the gallows died, For murder foul, and place them side by side, And let me ask you, man, in reason’s name, Would it be just to punish both the same? Can I believe, while reason holds her throne, Man will be judged for what he has not done? Nay; I am told by Inspiration’s pen, He dealeth justly by the sons of men.
Among the rest, there is another thing, To prove their point, which people often bring. With most convincing logic they recount Our Lord’s transfiguration on the mount, Where, in the presence of the wondering band, Old Moses and Elijah seem to stand.
But far away, on Nebo’s lonely side, Long years before, we read that Moses died; And here, say they, convincing proof is given That after death his spirit went to Heaven. Please turn to Jude, and read with some surprise How Michael caused his body to arise. Hence the conclusion we must draw is this, That both his soul and body are in bliss.
And if to-day translated I should be, I should expect this holy man to see, Not a thin essence, flitting to and fro, But good old Moses, of the long ago!
Now in this vision, glorious and great, Is seen, in miniature, the future state, For Christ had said to his disciples, Ere You sleep in death my “kingdom shall appear.” Good old Elijah represents the few Who are translated to this kingdom new, While Moses typifies, in splendor grand, The myriad saints who resurrected stand.
The apostle Paul a stirring letter sends, And thus he writes to his Corinthian friends: “What profit is it though I bear the cross, Endure all things for Christ, and suffer loss, If [as some say] the wicked and the just Must slumber on forever in the dust? It matters not if dead men do not rise, A man may live in pleasure till he dies!”
“Why, Paul! what language! This is quite too bad! I do not wonder Felix called you ‘mad.’ It matters little, Paul, I have been taught, Whether our senseless bodies rise or not! Shall not my happy soul be glorified, When this decaying body shall have died?”
Note the reply, so definite and clear, “When Jesus Christ in glory shall appear, We shall with him appear in glory”—bright, And faith and hope shall then be lost in sight.
And just before his cruel death at Rome, ’Tis thus he writes to sorrowing ones at home: “I do not fear to drink the bitter cup: I am now ready to be offered up; The time of my departure is at hand; Yet for the truth of God I firmly stand. This cheering prospect deadens all my pain, That He shall raise me from the dead again. The blessed future I by faith can see, A glorious diadem reserved for me, A crown of life, which fadeth not away, Which God, my Judge, shall give me, at that day; And not to me alone, but unto all Who love his coming!” Thus we read from Paul. Mark well the language. ’Tis affirmed that when Our King shall come to judge the sons of men, Then they who love the coming of the Lord, Shall each receive a glorious reward.
“’Tis what I argue,” my opponent saith, “Though I believe the Saviour comes at death.” But we are told in language broad and plain How he appeareth, when he comes again: That as the vivid lightning all may see, E’en so the coming of our Lord shall be.
When Christ our Saviour dwelt upon the earth (Of lowly parentage and humble birth), He had compassion on the sons of men, And raised the pallid dead to life again. And now young Lazarus, in his youthful bloom, His weeping friends have laid within the tomb.
Why did not Jesus comfort grief like this By saying, “Friends, your brother is in bliss!” But no: the Master bowed his head and wept, When Mary told him that her brother slept. And now he stands amid the lonely gloom, ’Mong awe-struck followers by the silent tomb, And with a voice of majesty he cries, “Come forth,” and lo! the sleeper doth arise. That silent form from which all life had fled Has heard his voice, and rises from the dead.
Now let me ask, Is testimony given That his free spirit went direct to Heaven? And, at the bidding of the Son of God, Came down again to fill the soulless clod? Oh, senseless reasoning! Had the Master known That young man’s spirit had to Heaven flown, ’Tis plain to me this might have been his cry, “Come down, young man, come quickly from the sky!” How grieved and sad the spirit must have been To journey back to this dark world of sin! How wild the reasoning, senseless, and absurd! It finds no warrant in God’s holy word.
“Oh well,” says one, “we cannot yet agree: I’m sure man’s spirit must immortal be; For in the book of Genesis is found How God made Adam from the dusty ground, And breathed his Spirit in the soulless clod, And man became immortal, like his God.”
Excuse me, friend, if I am impolite; But I mistrust you have not quoted right. We read that man a “living soul” became, Do “living” and “immortal,” mean the same? Then whales and fishes must immortal be; For “Every living soul died in the sea.” ’Tis thus we read, which proves that you and I, And every other “living soul,” can die!
With doubtful logic, and assumption bold, Again, by Error’s champion, is told The dying prayer of the repentant thief, To win some proselyte to his belief. “Remember me, when thou shalt come,” he cries (Not, “when thou goest”); and the Lord replies, “O trembling sinner, of a truth I say, Though others scorn thee, verily to-day Shalt thou be with me, in blest Paradise.” Thus the repentant thief, forgiven, dies.
“There,” says the objector, “after all, I thought That I should find the very proof I sought; And here it is: my theory must be true; For Christ, our Master, held this very view.”
Must I indorse this reasoning before I first investigate a little more? It looks unreasonable, it seems to me, That our dear Saviour’s words should disagree; And after he had risen from the dead, To sorrowing Mary it is thus he said, “I have not yet ascended up on high,” To that bright land of rest beyond the sky. “What! not yet been there!” the objector saith, “The thief expected his reward at death.” Have patience with me, while I undertake An explanation of the truth to make.
’Tis thus, it seems that our dear Lord would say (In answer to the dying thief), “To-day, E’en while I hang upon the cruel tree, Even to-day, I make this pledge to thee: Thou art forgiven; and in my kingdom thou Shalt rest with me. I promise, even now.” ’Tis thus we harmonize God’s holy word, And save from contradictions so absurd.
Our Saviour says, “When thou dost make a feast, Call not the rich, but bid the poor and least, For these cannot reward thee, but believe A glorious recompense thou shalt receive.” Oh, tell us when. Is it at death, dear Lord, We shall receive this “glorious reward”? “Nay: thou shalt sleep within the silent dust Until the resurrection of the just, Then thy reward shall verily be given, And thou shalt sit upon my throne in Heaven.”
There is one fact, I note with some surprise, If man’s reward is given when he dies, That there should be a day of Judgment, when Our God shall come to judge the sons of men, A Judgment day! How foolish it appears, If many souls have been in hell for years, While many more, from righteous Abel down, Have long ago received their starry crown. Now, when on earth the Master shall appear, These myriad souls must re-assemble here! What mind can picture such a scene as this? One class from hell, one just arrived from bliss! They must be judged, before they really know Just to which place they truly ought to go! Perhaps some spirit has been long in hell Who should have gone to Heaven—who can tell?— Or some vile soul, corrupt and full of sin, The gate of Paradise has entered in! Oh, foolish doctrine! Man of reason, why Indorse, believe, and propagate a lie?
When certain death God’s holy seer foretold To Hezekiah, in the days of old, The good king wept; and thus we hear him cry, “O Lord, my God, and must I surely die? Grant from the loathsome pit my soul to save. How can I praise thee in the silent grave? The living, Lord, the living he shall praise; Sweet songs of joy to celebrate thy praise So let me live, and heal my soul, I pray: So shall I praise thee, as I do this day.” What, Hezekiah! going right to bliss, And mourn to stay in such a world as this? It cannot be! Well Hezekiah knows That in the silent grave he must repose; And hence he supplicates with prayers and tears Till God has pledged to lengthen out his years.
O precious Truth! how oft thy glorious rays Unheeded shine, ’mid dark Tradition’s maze! How oft men wander from thy platform broad, Prone to subvert the precious truth of God; Prone to believe what he has never said, That man is conscious when the body’s dead, That when the weary brain shall act no more Man thinks and reasons better than before!
Suppose, for instance, I should be assailed By murderous hand, and yet the ruffian failed To snap the thread by which my life is bound, But left me still and senseless on the ground, Where, man of reason, has the spirit fled, When thus I lie, unconscious, but not dead? I cannot think, nor reason, nor reflect; I have no sense, no power of intellect! But now suppose another blow is given By which the subtle cords of life are riven. Oh, wondrous mystery! my sense comes back! And, keener still, pursues its wonted track! And though my brain can never reason more, I still have wisdom greater than before, And with a rapturous bound my spirit flies, Free and untrammeled, to the boundless skies! I wonder not, that, if this theory’s true, So many hold the Necromancer’s view, That happy spirits in the realms of bliss Hold frequent converse with their friends in this. Poor foolish reasoners! Little do they dream, They thus embrace the devil’s darling scheme.
Now Job affirms that when this life is o’er, “Man lieth down, and riseth up no more;” That “though his sons may be to honor brought, Or scorned by man, he shall perceive it not. He shall not rise, nor waken from his sleep,” And naught can rouse him from his slumber deep!
“Then you believe the doctrine weak and small, That men and women have no souls at all?” The definition I would give of “soul,” Is this: The conscious, live, material whole! Now, friend, pray tell me, is it you or I, To whom the term “No-soulist” could apply?
“Oh, well!” says one, “’Tis plain that you dispute A man’s pre-eminence above the brute.” Upon this point, that Solomon and I Think quite alike, I cannot well deny. The wise king says, that “as one dieth so The other dies, and to one place they go.” Paul’s only hope, as I before have said, Was in the resurrection of the dead.
“But,” says the objector, “I can never see How souls are punished, if they cease to be.” “If man becomes as though he had not been, Can this be termed a just reward for sin?” Please pause one moment, calmly pause, and think: Is it no punishment, my friend, to drink The burning vials of the wrath of God, To feel the stroke of his avenging rod; To be consumed with vile, ungodly men, And never more be raised to life again; To see the good within the city fair, And know that you can never enter there? What heart-felt agony, what bitter woe, What cries of anguish, from the lips will flow!
O Inconsistency! E’en since thy birth, Swifter than light, thou spreadest o’er the earth. Till man has learned to battle ’gainst the right, And choose the darkness rather than the light. I fain would all thy foolish views disclose, And all thy base deformities expose.
O blessed Bible! Holy Book of God! How wise thy precepts, simple, plain, and broad! Far o’er the earth reflects thy cheering light, Like beacon watchfire in the gloom of night; And yet, O man, how prone to turn aside The plain directions of this Holy Guide, With all thy strength its blessed truths assail, With reason blinded by Tradition’s veil. I am content the word of God to read, And take therefrom my only faith and creed, So shall it guide me o’er the darksome way, A mighty Shield, a Counsellor, and Stay, The same bright hope, that buoyed the prophets up, That strengthened Paul to drink the bitter cup, Whose cheering rays amid the darkness shine, I am content that this blest hope is mine.
And if it be the purpose of my God, That this poor form should lie beneath the sod, What resignation to his will it gives To know indeed, that “My Redeemer lives.” How sweet to sleep within the silent dust, To rest together with the good and just, And at the coming of the blessed Lord Together share the glorious reward! These sorrowing eyes, so often dimmed by tears, Shall weep no more, through all the endless years. This “stammering tongue” shall then be loosed, to sing The songs of Zion, ’till the arches ring! And these same weary, trembling hands shall hold, ’Mid bliss ineffable, a harp of gold. The pallid brow, so deeply marred by care, No longer marred, a diadem shall wear.
O glorious day of resurrection! dawn, Make haste and bid the dreary night be gone; Make haste and set the pining captives free, And bring the boon of immortality! O glorious thought, that though I sleep in death, With hope triumphant I can yield my breath, And sweetly rest within the silent tomb, And patiently wait until my change shall come, When in the “likeness” of my blessed King I “shall awake” his rapturous praise to sing, When free from death, forever by his side, In that blest morn, “I shall be satisfied.”