Rensselaer Republican, Volume 19, Number 51, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 25 August 1887 — "WE ARE WITNESSES.” [ARTICLE]

"WE ARE WITNESSES.”

It Will Not be Through , Argument But Through Testimony if Thia World is Bvor Brought to God— The Weapon lathis Con liar is Faith, Not Logie, Not Metaphysics—Wo Are Witnesses That Christ is Able to Convert. Rev. Dr. Talmage preached at “The Hamptons” last Sunday. Text, Acts iii., 15. Subject, “We are Witnesses.” He I said: " ' .. Xj In the time of Christ it was proved conclusively that it was impossible for I him to rise from the dead. It was shown logically that when a man was ' dead be was dead, and the heart and the liver and the lungs having ceased to perform their offices, the limbs would be rigid beyofid all power of friction or arousal. They showed it to be an absolute absurdity that the dead Christ should ever get up alive, but no sooner had they proved this than the dead Christ arose, and the disciples beheld Him, heard Hisvoice, and talked with Him, and they took the witness stand to prove that to be true which the wiseacres of the day had proved to be impossible; the record of the experiment and of the testimony is in the text: “Him hath God raised from the dead, whereof we aie witnesses.” Now, let me play the skeptic for a moment. “There is no >01!,” says the skeptis, “for I have never seen Him with my own physical eyesight. Your Bible is a pack of contradictions. There never was a miracle. Lazarus was not raised from the dead, and the water was never turned into wine. Your religion is an imposition on the sredulity of the ages.” There is an aged man moving in that pew as though he would like to respond. Here are hundreds of people with faces a little flushed at these announcements, and all through this house there is a suppressed feeling which would like to speak out in behalf of the truth of our glorious Christianity, as in the days of the text, crying out: “We are witnesses.” The fact is, that if this world is ever brought to God, it will not be through argument, but through testimony. .You might cover the whole earth with apologies for Christianity and learned treatises in defense of religion—yon would not convert a soul. Lectures on the harmony between science and religion are beau tis ul mental discipline,but have never saved a soul, and never will save a soul. Put a man of the world and a man of the Church against each other, and the man of the world will in all probability get the triumph. There are a thousand things tn our religion that seem illogical to the world, and always will seem illogical. Our weapon in this conflict is faith, not logic; faith, not metaphysics; faith, not profundity; faith, not scholastic exploration. But, then, in order to have faith we must have testimony, and if five hundred men,or one thousand men, or five hundred thousand men, or five million men; get up and tell me that they have felt the religion of Jesus Christ a joy, a comfort,a help, an inspiration, lam bound,as a fair minded man, to accept their testimony. I want just now to >ut before you three propositions, the truth of which this audience will attest with overwhelming unanimity,. The Arat proposition is: We are wit nesses that the religion Of Christ is able to convert a soul. The Gospel may have had a hard time to conquer us, we may have fought it back, but were vanquished. You say conversation's only an imaginary thing. We know better. “We are witnesses.” There was never so great a change in our heart and life on any subject as on this. People laughed at the Missionaries in Madagascar because they preached ten years without one convert; but there are thirty-three thousand converts in Madagascar to-day. People laughed at Dr. Judson, the Baptist missionary, because he kept on preaching in Burmah without a single, convert; but there are twenty thousand Baptists in Burmah to-day. People laughed at Dr. Morrison, in China, for preaching there seven years without a single conversioh; but there are fifteen thousand Christians in China to-day. People laughed at the missionaries for preaching at Tahita for fifteen years without a single conversion, and at the missionaries for preaching in Bengal seventeen years without a single conversion; yet in those islands there are multitudes of Christians to-day. But. why go so far to find evidences of the Gospel’s power to' save a soul? “We are wintesses.” We were so proud that no man could have humbled us; we were so hard that no earthly power could have melted us; angels of God were all around about us; but one day, perhaps at a Methodist anxious seat, of at a Presbyterian catechetical lecture, or at a burial, or on horse-back, a power seized us, and made us get down, and made us tremble, and made us kneel, and made us cry for mercy, and we tried to wrench ourselves away from its grasp, but we could not. It flung us flat, and when we arose we were as much changed as Gourgis, the heathen, who went into a prayer meeting with a dagger and a gun, to disturb the meeting and destroy it, but the next day was found crying: “Oh! my great sins!: Oh my great Saviour!” and for eleven years preached the Gospel of Christ to hit fellow-mountaineers, the last words on his dying lips being: “Free grace!” Oh, it was free grace. There is a-man who was for ten years a hard drinker. The dreadful appetite had aent down its roots around the palate and the tongue, and on down until they were interlinked with the vitals of the body, mind and soul; but he has not taken any stimulants for two years. What did that? Not temperance societies. Noj prohibition laws. Not moral suation. Conversion did it. “Why,” said one upon whom the great change had come, “sir, I feel just as though I were somebody else,” Now, if I should demand that all those people in this house who have felt the converting power of religion should rise, so far from being ashamed, thev would spring to their, feet with more alacrity than they ever sprang to the dance, the tears mingling with their exhilaration as they cried: “We are witnesses.” Again, I remark that “we are witnesses” oftheGoepeTspowerto comfort. When a man has trouble the world comes in and says: “Now, get your mind off this; go out and breathe the fresh air; plunge deeper into business.” What poor advice. Get your mind offofit!

when every thing is upturned with the bereavement, and every thing reminds you of what you- have lost. Get your mind off of it! They might as well advise you to stop thinking. You can not stop thinking, and you can not stops thinking in that direction. Take a walk ih the fresh air. Why, along that very street, or that very road, she once accompanied yon. Out of that grass-plot she plucked flo vers, or into that, showwindow she looked, fascinated, saying: “Come see the pictures.” Go deeper into business! Why, she was" associated' with all your business ambition, and since she is gone you have no ambition left. _ • Oh, this is a clumsy world when it tries to comfort a broken heart! I can build a Corliss engine, lean paint a Raphael’s “Madonna,” I can play a Beethoven’s “lyriiphony” as easily as this world can comfort a broken heart. And yet yon have been comforted; How was it done? Did Christ come to you and your mind off this, go out and breathe the fresh air; plunge deepet into business?” No. There was minute when He came jo you4-perhaps. in the watches of the night, perhaps in your place of business, perhaps along the street—and He breathed something into your soul that gave peace, rest, infinite quiet, so that you could take out the photograph of the departed one and look into the eyes and the face of the dear one. and say; “It is all right; she is better off; I would not call her back. Lord, I thank Thee that Thou hast comforted my poor heart. There are Christian parents here who are willing to testify to the power of the Gospel to comfort. Your son had just graduated from school or college and was going into business, and the Lord took him. Or your daughter had just graduated from the young ladies’ seminary, and you thought she was going to be a useful woman and of long life; but the Lord took her, and you were tefnptedtosay: “All this culture of twenty years for nothing!” Or the little child came home from school with the hot fever that stopped not for the agonized prayer or for the skillful physician, and the little child was taken. Or the babe was lifted put of your arms by some quick epidemic, and you stood wondering why God ever gave you that child at all, if so soon he was to take it away. And yet you are not repining, you are not fretful, you are not fightful against God. ; What has enabled you to stand all the trial? “Oh,” you say,“l took the medicine that God gave my sick soul. In my distress I threw myself at the feet of a sympathizing God; and when I was too weak to pray or to look up,He breathed into me a peace that I think must be the foretaste of that heaven where there is neither a tear nor a farewell nor a grave ” Come, all ye who have been -out to the grave to weep there—come, all ye comforted souls, get up off your knees. Is there no power in this Gospel to soothe the heart? Is there no power in this religion to quiet the worst paroxysm of grief? There comes up an answer from comforted widowhood, and and orphanage, and childlessness, saying: “ Aye,aye, we are witnesses! ’’: 2: Again, I remark that we are witnesses of the fact that religion has power to give composure in the last mement. In our sermons and in our lay exhortations we are very apt, when we want to bring illustrations of dying triumph, to go back to some distinguished personage—to a John Knox or a Harriet Newell. But I want you for witnesses. I want to know if you have ever seen any thing to make you believe that the religion of Christ can give eomposure in the final hour. “Ob, yes,” you say, “I saw my father and mother depart. There was a great difference in their death-beds. Standing by the one we felt more veneration. By the other, there was more tenderness. Before the one you bowred, perhaps, in awe. In the other case you felt as if you woald like to go along with her. How did they feel in that last hour? How did they seem to act? Were they very much frightened? Did they take hold of this world with both hands as though tney did not want to give it up? “Oh, no,” you say: “no, I remember as thopgh it were yesterday; she had a kind word foi us all, and there were a few mementoes distributed- among the children, and then she told us how kind we must be to our father in his loneliness, and then she kissed us good-bv and went asleep as a child in a zradle.” What made her so composed? Natural courage? “No,” you say. - “mother was very nervous; when the carriage inclined to the side of the road she would Cry out; she was always rather weakly.” What, then, gave her composure? Was it because she did not care much for you, and the pang of parting was not great? “Oh,” you say, “she showered upon us a wealth of affection; no mother ever loved her children more than mother loved us; she showed it by the way she nursed us when we were siek, and she toiled for uauimFlrer strength gave out.” What, then, was it that gave her composure in the last hour? Do not hide it. “It was because she was so good; she made the Lord her portiop. and she had faith that she would go straight to glory, and that we should all meet her at last at the foo t of the throne.” You see, my friends, I have not put before you an abstraction, or a chimera, or any thing like guess-work. I present you affidavits of the best men and women, living and dead. Two witnesses in Court will establish a fact. Here are not two witnesses, but thousands of witnesses —on earth millions of witnesses and in heaven a great multitude of witnesses that no man can nuniiber, testifying that there is power in thia religion to convert the soul, to give comfort in trouble, and to afford composure in the last hour. . \ I f ten men should come to you when you are sick with appalling sickness and say they had the same sickness, and took a certain medicine, and it .cured them, yon would probably take it. Now, suppose ten other men should come up and say! “We don’t believe there is any thing in that medicine.” “Well,” I say ‘Slave you ever tried it?” “No, I never tried -it but I don’t believe there is anything in it.” Of course you discredit their testimony. The skeptic may come and say: “There is no power in your religion.” “Have vou ever tried it?” “No, no.” “Then, avaunt!” Let me take tire testimony of the millions of souls that have been converted to God, and comforted in iriaL and solaced in they last hour. “We. will take their testimony as the cry: We are witnesses!” I * ; " Sometime ago Prof. Henry, of Washington, discovered a new star, and the tidings sped by submarine telegraph,

and all the observatories of Europe were watching for that new star. Oh, hearer looking out from the darkness of thy soul, canst thou see a bright light beamn • ing onthee?“Wbere?”you say, “Where? , How can I find it?” Look along by the line of the cross of the Son of God. jDo you not see it trembling with all : tenderness and beaming with all hope?... ' It is the star'of Beth.ehem. Oh, hearer, get your eye on it. It is ■ easier for you pow to become Christians than it is to stay away from Christ and * heaven. When Mad. Sontag began her musical career she was hissed off the stage at Vienna by the friends of her rival, Amelia Steininger who had already begun to decline through, her dissipation. Years pasted on, and one day Mad. in her glory, was riding through the streets of Berlin when she saw’a little child leading a blind woman, and she said: “Come here, my little child, come here. Who is], that you are leading by the hand?” And the little child replied: “That’s my mother; that’s Amelia Steiningen She used to be a great singer, but she lost her voice, and she cried so much about it that sire lost ner eye-sight.” “<ive my love to her,” said Mad. bontag, “and tell her an old acquaintance will call on her this afternoon.” The next week in Berlin a vast assemblage gathered at a benefit for that poor blind woman, and it was said that Mad. Sontag sang that night as the bad never sung before. And she took a skilled oculist,who m vain tried to give eyesight to the poor blind woman. Until the day of Amelia Steininger’s death Mad. Sontag took care of her, and her daughter after her. That was what the Queen of song did for her enemy. But, oh, hear a more 'thrilling story still. Blind, immortal, poor and lost, thou who, when the wori<j and Christ were rivals for thy heart, didst hiss thy Lord away—Christ comes now to give thee sight, to g'.ve thee a home, to. give thee heaven. With more than a Sontag’s generosity He comes now to meet your need. With more than a Bontag’s music He comes to plead for thy deliverance.