The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1881-05-18

Who, What Can Answer3-The Bible tie
Only Lamp That Can Unerringly Guide
fhe Soul to Rest and Peace-Two States
That Endure Forever and Forever.
The mind Of man must question; must be
full of questiOnings- He walks in tangled
forest of mysteries and deep awful question
ings that can not be quieted. What am /?
What is this unfathomable. immense thing
am in which men call the luniyerse2
What is lifeP What is death7 What am
TO believe and what am to do. And he
bushes the beating of his heart to hear the
answer; but none comes. The grim, gaunt
mountains answer not. The huge measure
less deserts have no voice, and all stern
forests are silent Solitude is solitude still;
it speaks no word. And the weltering,
murmuring, boundless sea. casting
up it's mire and dirt, roars on
with its eternal monotone, and makes
40 reply. The very heavens rolling silent
overhead, with its sideral fires and blue,
CHANGING stars; millions past computation
of burning, rushing, whirling worlds; in
stinct with life and movement, all are dumb
The restless cry comes back on the heart as
whittier do go? And man feels that these
are momentous questions; higher than the
heavens, deeper than hell. They take hold
on immortal life and they must be an
swered. In comparison all things are as
non-impOrtant as wind-shiftings; all else is
mere nOthingneSs, autumn thlstles, vain. IL
is now aud forever these wistful, anxious
ouestiOnings must be satisfied. No paragon
of argumentative Greek or flippancy of
Greek philosopher will do. The stupid.
vague, insar e,,traditiOns of Jes err, of Rome
of MOhammedanism will no do. That inert,
lifeless Journalism, that wearisome routine
of idolstry that has lain for centuries on the
bosom of the earth, that will not do. No
answer then, in that
Much of this thing we call the past, the
Mighty Past, is hollow sham, sickening
mockery and holds no truth. 1t answers
not. it can not answer thesewild, palpitating
questions, that come up from the lower
deeps of maR's soul and that must be an
swered, or he is crazed, frantic, mad. Mere
gingle, Grade PHILOSOPHERS, vain semblances,
all that worthless rubbish that makes up
forms and external parade, that will never
do as answer. This yearning soul wants
bread and no chaff Its hunger is for reality,
not emptiness. Dead horses, saints, mar
tyrs, philosophers, prophets, poets, rot I'M
der feet worms eat them, plowshares go
over and through them, and generations
there some great-souled, pensiye, meditative
man walks sadly above them and asks the
secret of their living But they will not re-
ply. There millions of the dead hold hard
the secret of their end. No tear can drag it
from them, no means nor midnight prayers.
no bitter walls, no sobs, no anguished child
ings can bring these dead tongues to speak
and give awful answers to awful questions.
And why not? Oh! why can not this
dead dust stir and tell something to this lily
ing dust? Why can not, the dead being
whisper to his court, or the pulseless mother
warm her broken offspring? Must the poet
sing to us no more, nor the prophet tell OF
that void which lies beyond, hid from NOR
tai sight7 Can not Plato tell us now the
truths his pupils asked ere he passed into
sleep? Can not Socrates answer from near
that Athenian Prison and tell us of the mys-
teries beyond? OH it is sad; these mighty
ones once shook this earth with the storms
of battle or the thunder-bursts OF their
genius; but now they are still and will not
stir.
No King, noprophet no philosopherto guide
Us or tell us of that mystic. shadOwy here
after or this momentous terrible present.
Nothing on this earth where we live and
where die, has got tongue wherein to
peak and quiet this painting heart of man.
sound, whisper, voice, echo, walks the
rridor of this heart draped in mourning.
uestionings. All is dumb; dead silence
above, beneath, around, and thus We go on.
Is there no solid rock on which the storm
tossed soul can rest its weary feet2
Yes! Mani take Gods word as Gods
truth, and the only truth there is in this
lower world, and see il it will not answer
every qnestion, satisfy every longing and re-
move every doubt. If that book men call
the Bible can not answer these wild yearn-
ings these twO-fold terrible questions of
yours, no other thing can or will; believe
that book lovingly. truthfully; believe it or
give il up; go down TO silence broken
hearted, wretched, ruined, die. In all this
wild'ohaos of living, that is the only thing,
the best thing to lay hold on or cling to. If
il be not truth---that book. nothing is; and
if it answers not, nothing does On this
yeasting, heaving sea, all vessels break upon
the recks but that one. Ii will float, and
while 1T does, millions must and will hold
toiit.
Noman ever lived more in earnest than
one Martin Luther, peasant boy, an image
breaker, reformer, and wlth-all deep
souled questioning man. He ha these
heartsGuestions to face him and demand an
,Swer. No evading them, no putting of them
off; and only that strange, wonderful book
could and did answer them. There one
evening at sunset in his little garden near
Wittenburg, Germany, away from the tu-
now, inwardly asking: Where is the little
dead Madeline, my child Madeline, who left
me no longer than yesterday" And there
as the stars came out over the drowsy hum
Of that GermIn city, this same book an
swered Martin Luther's question; and the
great mans faith took hold of it. and his
great imagination clothed it with glory and
he was content, Madeline was with God
Heaven is real. He'll is real and
TO do right is all, and eternally
important. There are two conditions
here and you can not conceive of the one
without the other-pain and pleasure, Joy
and sorrow. A line is drawn in this lie,
and that line continues throughout all eter-
nifty, separating angels from devils, Abels
from Gains. Let US walk along both lines.
Upon the left are all unbelievers, idolaters,
murderers, drunkards, robbers, adulterers,
blasphemers, liars, slanderers misers, hypo-
critics etc. Let US walk along this line
again.
Here are Kings heroes, statesmen, schol-
ars. parents and their children. widows and
orphans escaped from their widowhood and
and orphanage, for God is their husband
and father. The Lords poor. wearing flow
ems plscked by an angel from the garden OF
God. The Lords poor are now rich in
treasure imperishable. The work is done.
The Judge arises. His sword is unsheathed,
the stars stand back beyond its sweep, its
edge glimmering fire. depart We cursedn'