Democratic Sentinel, Volume 9, Number 31, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 28 August 1885 — Mammondoxy. [ARTICLE]

Mammondoxy.

What is my opinion of Mammondoxy ? You cannot xvorship God and Mammon, says Holy Writ, and to those who have seen the efforts of those who had tlieir doubts about the truth of the statement, it is hardly necessary for us to say that the doctrine is warranted not to fade. Mammondoxy -is the doxy of so many, that it can scarcely be called heterdoxy, nor is it any nearer orthodoxy. It is a hybrid doctrine Avhich teaches that the capital G must be taken from the name of God, to be used in spelling gold. It thrives in churches, and puts its imprint on the swell preacher and his fashionable congregation. It changes the frescoed text, “God is’ Love,” to “God is Cash;” it hands the gilded sinner into a gilded peAv, and leaves the poor widow to perish. Outside of the church it teaches that wealth is Avorth. Fashion is its most faithful devotee and society accepts its tenets without a question. Marriages are celebrated according to the rites it imposes, and the children are born and christened in its faith. Politics is sAvayed by its dogmas, and legislatures and courts are held in its thrall. The rich and the poor acknoAvledge its rule and the houses of the living and the tombs of the dead bear testimony to its mighty influence. From the earliest times to the present, Mammondoxy has found a place among all religions and has never failed to sec its pennant in the fore. There are religions of head and there are religions of heart, but this one drops a degree, and is a religion of the pocketbook. Its creed is written on bank checks, and its church papers are certificates of stock. It has no limit but the grave, and there its glory and its power stop short. “Shrouds have do pockets.” The worm is no respecter of persons. Decay has no faA’orites. Mammondoxy serves the body only in life. It recognizes no soul. Beyond the gi*ave it cannot reach. Death is death to all its teachings, and in his last bitter hours, man finds that the god he had made more than God has deserted him.— Mrs. Broitm, in Merchant Traveler.