THE LAST APOSTASY

International Tract and Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Oct 21, 1889

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 15, No. 40.

THE LAST APOSTASY.

THE WEDDING OF CHURCH AND STATE.—AN ALLEGORY.

(Continued.)

"Tut! tut! such talk is sacrilege. Now to our wedding ring. The hall is lined with noble signatures of those petitioning this act. Through it will come a law forbidding desecration of the Sabbath-day, that the fair Church may hold her court, and bring her subjects to her feet to hear the law for their swift doing."

"But there are those who do not hold your day a day of rest or worship,—the Jew, the seventh-day people, and men who have no faith in any day of rest. One class there is who could not get consent of their own consciences to rest with you. It would strike against their best conviction of duty unto God and to all men. For would the Church, disloyal to her Lord, read his fair law, think you, or some false, man-made code?"

Then a great doctor spoke: "Let a man be what he may, Jew, seventh-day observer of some Christian denomination, or those who do not believe in the Christian Sabbath—let the law apply to everyone, that there shall be no public desecration of the first day of the week, the Christian Sabbath, the day of rest for the nation."

" 'Tis evident you do want Church and State as they were joined of old," said the dissenter. "The old Church historian says it was through Sunday laws that the Church procured control of civil power, by which she was enabled to compel those who did not believe, to act as though they did. This Sunday law is your great wedding ring, and now, as then, your law will fill the State with hypocrites and knaves, and martyrs' graves."

"Tut! tut! the man is wild," remarked another, who'd given more thought to raising hens than laws. " 'Twill never come to this, in this fair freedom's land."

"But look you, it must come if you take means like this. Does not cause bring effect? The same cause brought this effect in ages past, and will it now work out a different result with similar methods? Yes, it will come. I see the tide is setting toward the shore, and who shall stay it? God's providence may block it back awhile, but woe to him who'd push his barriers down. Does not the prophet speak of this strange scheme, portraying our land under a symbol true—a beast with lamb-like horns and dragon voice. How lamb-like in the past its principles! How like a dragon roars this Sunday law!

"No doubt, some day you'll carry out your schemes, and crush the man who stands against your train, but God will deliver his people in that day. All through the ages they have been dissenters against the popular thought. Christ was not popular, neither are his children. And when this confusion, worse confounded, is brought about through your illegal wedding, there'll come a call from God to all his own, 'Come out of fallen Babylon, my saints; be separate from the world; touch not the unclean, and ye shall be my sons and daughters.' Then there will be confusion past our ken, for fiercest controversy will tear the State to fix the general creed to majority's liking, and pangs, unknown before, will fill the Church. There are coquettes all through the land who'll war with cruel jealousy for the State's favor; but there's one harlot, who has held all kings before, MYSTERY BABYLON, in scarlet and purple robe, holding her cup of wine for drunken nations, and by her arts, long practiced, she will not smile in vain."

"And we will let her woo us," said the clerks. "Yes, when Rome's ready, let her come," they said. "Nay, let her beckon, we will go to her."

"Was there some dread significance I wonder in that strange fact, that on his jubilee from this fair land, our Constitution was given to the pope? It only needs the wedding ceremony to ratify the act, and it is in his hands to change."

A hush fell on the assembly, and through the silence, men heard the State snore loudly, and the Church yawned as she woke. The dark prince touched the State and roused him. "Come," he said, " 'tis time you were awake. The wedding ring is welded, and what forbids your marriage here and now? The clergy wait, the people are assembled. Your bride is fair, and you are robed and ready. Come, I've arranged the detail. Rise, and march down to the stand where priests wait for your coming."

Then down the hall the Church and State marched slowly, in sight of the assembly that admired. The wedding march was played, but the dissenter heard the dead march wailing through it, and it seemed fitting. The prayer was made, the words of ceremony read, and slowly—"If any man knows aught just cause why these two should not be united, let him now speak, or hereafter forever hold his peace."

Then rose a company with pallid brows, and one spoke for them: "We forbid the marriage."

"Upon what grounds?"

Then the dissenter turned and read: " 'If while her husband liveth, she be married to another man, she shall be called an adulteress.' This woman hath another husband who yet liveth."

The Church grew pale, and then turned scarlet red. Her eyes flashed, and she said decisively: "I here renounce relationship to my betrothed. I take the State to be my lawful husband."

The marriage rite went on, and the pale company sat down to weep. Just then there passed a Prince of royal grace within the hall.

Few saw him, but his face was full of light, and with him passed a pure and lowly maiden, whose eyes looked love.

The Church and State went arm and arm along, and saw the Prince just vanishing with his beloved.

"Who is that with the Prince?" the lady asked.

"That is his worthy betrothed, who will take your crown, your place, and power. She comes to do the work that earth must do for heaven. Farewell."

It was an angel who had spoken these words, and vanished from her side forevermore.

"I hate the Prince's maiden," said the Church. "She shall not be his bride. I'll prove her false."

But all her arts were vain upon the maid, and day by day the lovely virgin passed, bearing a sick one some rare flower of love, taking a bunch of fruit to some poor soul, a draught of water to some fainting heart. She wept with those that wept, rejoiced, too, with those who did rejoice. And in the street, sometimes, she stood and spoke to weary ones of her fair Prince, whose subjects they must prove, e'en in an enemy's land of strife and shame.

(To be continued.)