Aristocratic Christianity.
Reform is a word that sounds well.—Banners are inscribed with it and people toss up their hands and shout "reform." The temperance lecturer and the statesman; the reader of smooth and varnished essays, and the stump orator in his grand-eloquent extemporaneous harangues to the people, delight in displaying the beauties of reform. As we said before, words sound well, but it is not with sounds alone we have to deal. Many content themselves with the sound, and go no further to inquire into its significance. Reform may be applied to religion as to nations. Ever since the days of Martin Luther, religious reform has been actively at work. But it has mostly toiled in one direction. Its object seems to have been to adjust the wheels in the great machinery so as to work harmoniously. To this end huge volumes have been compiled and the libraries of the world ransacked. But there is one part of the great principle of reform that has been gladly consigned to oblivion, and in this particular the Church is at war with the true spirit of Christianity. Costly palaces and magnificent temples are the great fountains from which the gospel at the present day is proclaimed to the people. Sermons carefully prepared according to the strict rules of rhetoric, and better calculated to captivate the tastes than to convince the reason are delivered weekly, from sacred desks. The congregations recline on cushioned seats and criticise the sermon. The man of wealth has his pew fitted up with all the modern improvements to make attendance easy. Select music opens the service and the rich peals rolling in soft music burst from the organ at its close.—Worldly splendor paves the "narrow path" to heaven and dresses the Christianity of the church in inviting robes. Whether such a state of things indicates true Christianity, might perhaps be doubted. The founder of Christianity was born in poverty while on earth. His pulpit was the mountain rock, his audience sat on the naked ground, and his sermons were addressed to the poor. So great was his poverty that he had no where to lay his head. His mission was one of charity and mercy. He sought the poor, the ignorant, the lame and the blind. He delivered no elaborate sermons on doctrinal points from highly ornamented desks, to gentlemen in broadcloth, and ladies in silks and satin. When the rich sought him they did not seek him in splendid temples and gorgeous palaces, but sought him in the midst of his labors among the poor and the humble. Here then lies the difference between the Christianity of the Church and the Christianity of Christ—the former is founded on worldly splendor, the latter in poverty.—Would it not be well, among the reforms of the age to introduce a reform in Christianity, and preach as they did of old—to poor as well as to rich.