THE LAST APOSTASY

International Tract and Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Oct 28, 1889

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 15, No. 41.

THE LAST APOSTASY.

THE WEDDING OF CHURCH AND STATE.—AN ALLEGORY.

(Concluded.)

ALL throughout the realm the Princess made a stir. Men wept, and loved her Prince for all his love. With lowly looks they passed among the proud, bearing the word of life, teaching the laws of God, till Church and State were roused to jealous hate, and took cruel measures to restrict their power.

They brought the Prince's maiden to their palace, and flattered her; but she stood firm. They punished, persecuted, tortured her; she would not yield. Her face grew sweeter, her spirit more like his she loved, her beauty rarer and more heavenly.

Then there was born one night within the hall the first-born child of Church and State. His eyes were wild and dark, his brow was old. They named him, with great christening ceremony, "Theocracy." But he was but of man, and not of God, a false theocracy of ignoble mind and perverse will. He thought of nought but his own exaltation. A petty tyrant in the halls of State, his stubborn will bent all the subjects to a vassal cringe, and made them slaves to his desire and whim. But men, long free, could not so soon submit to tyranny without rebellion. Strife tore the nation, and debate was rife, whether they would obey the will of this strange tyrant son, or no.

But while the strife still waged, another son was born, and with still greater pomp they christened him "Infallibility." His face was sharper yet. His piercing eye read men as books, and searched with devilish wisdom all their plans. No man was free to think his thoughts again. He ruled all thought, prescribing the very limits men might, or might not, swing to from his tether. His eagle eye swept soul and body of that organic thing called National Government. He marked its heart, its pulse beat, saw its veins, and pricked them at his will to thin the blood, lest it might rise against his ordained rule, and shake off his iron chains. Sometimes it throbbed, and dealt a heavy blow against his power, and gave him yet uneasiness and trouble.

But while he struggled, came another son—a little, wiry, weason-faced imp called "Inquisition." He was more pious than his brothers even, and with scrupulous care gave heed to all religious doings in the land. The Church herself, now matronly and burdened, found much relief since this last son was born to take her work, and she was left more free for banqueting and pleasure.

The parents took great joy in this last pet, and smiled at his wise ways and cunning wit. "Ah!" said his mother, "if we have not true Christian subjects now, 'twill be because our son cannot find means with all his wondrous genius to invent measures to wring men's hearts dry of all heresy and atheism. Bless his pure papal heart! Do see him! He has a moment from his duties, and is pulling the wings from all the flies in the palace. His destiny is in him."

Theocracy, Infallibility, Inquisition, made a triumvirate more absolute than did Caesar, Crassus, and Pompey in their day. Then every day long trains of dissenters came, handcuffed with irons. Then might be heard, from darkened cells, the moanings of the prisoners. When once these tyrants were accused of persecuting, they rose in righteous wrath to deny the charge. They cried: "He alone persecutes who forces to evil. But to restrain men from doing evil, or to punish those who have done it, is not persecution or cruelty, but love of mankind. These men are law breakers, church despisers. They will not submit to the powers that be, that are ordained of God."

It was a court-day, and, among the rest, the Prince's maiden was brought forth for trial. Her face was pale, but calm. It showed the traces of her tears and sufferings, but lit with holy light as she looked up, and took her place upon the criminal stand.

Both Church and State were there on royal thrones. Both had grown old and coarse. Their forms were gross with great obesity. The Church was decked with gold and precious gems, in purple and in scarlet. The State was arrayed in velvet and gold, his sword in glittering scabbard at his side. Theocracy, Infallibility, and Inquisition each had seat of power, and the great hall was filled with hypocrites, knaves, and fools, with every foul and unclean bird of prey. Alas! alas! how is the fine gold changed! How is the gold grown dim! Those who had once been manly citizens were cowards now, and tools. Like a great leach, the Church-State government had absorbed the vital tides of all the world. The

law had not reformed society. The system had worked out its abominable sequel to the past. The image of the past was about to speak, and cause that as many as would not worship it, should be destroyed forever.

The Prince's espoused one would not consent to the iniquity of the land, nor break God's law to keep the human code. In vain they made their arguments, adjuring her by all solemnities to cease her course, and submit to the powers that be, that are ordained of God.

She calmly held their power was not of God, but was a perversion of his good, and therefore evil. She claimed 'twas only hers to do as the three Hebrews did in Babylon, when called to bow before a golden image at a great king's decree. They would not worship though the furnace smoked. She spoke of Daniel, who trembled not to bow three times a day to pray to Heaven for help, although a royal mandate bade all men ask favor of no man or God, save of the king, for thirty desolate days. She cited the apostles when arraigned before authorities for preaching Christ, and gave as hers their answer: "Ye ought to obey God rather than men." Since they had chosen to force a law contrary to his, she trembled not to answer that she'd not obey it.

The assembly were enraged at her calm speech. They spit upon her, beat her with their thongs. The three sons took their turns in arguments, according to their power to make her yield, but she stood firm. She remembered how her Lord had suffered for her, how his life-blood had flowed, how his heart had been broken with reproach. And in her hour of trial he did not leave her helpless, comfortless. Around her, though unseen, walked his ambassadors, and noted her faithfulness. Her Prince's heart thrilled with overflowing love, and yearned for her release; and when the King, his Father, satisfied as to her truth, gave the command, the royal train went forth from the imperial palace.

Down the long fields of azure, where stars bloomed on every side, came the resplendent pageant. Most rapturous music burst from heavenly harps, and awful glory swept the sky and earth. In the midst of the work of death the fearful glory swept, and struck men down with horror. Only she, who was so lately pale, looked up with rapturous joy. Her beloved came. Her face was flushed with joy and immortal beauty. And her enemies fell, consumed by the glory of her Prince.

She was borne up in angels' arms to meet her Prince, and with her came her friends and kin, the dissenting sons of earth, who were ripe for heaven. She saw her Prince, for whom she had lived and suffered, and in a moment all was cloudless light. He bore her to his palace, clothed her with light and glory, set her as his fair consort for all years, his church redeemed, whom he had loved, and washed in his own precious blood.

But Babylon was lost, consumed, destroyed, made ashes under the soles of the feet of those she strove to humble in her pride; and all the universe gave glory unto God, and to his Prince, and saw his church with wonder and with love.