Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1906-06-15
THE RECOVERY OF FAITH


iously inclined. / believed everything In
the Bible from Genesis to Revelation.
II was the source of all my strength,
comfort, and inspiration; and by obeying
the precepts and injunctions of 1t l ex-
pected to be justified and saved. Jesus
Christ, to me, was a living reality,
being whom 1 believed had actually come
from heaven, was crucifled, and rose from
the dead, and who sat on the right hand
Of God making intercession for all his
followers here below. God was one to
whom regularly prayed and with whom
l communed as with a PERSONAL friend.
When l sinned / fell upon my knees and
trembllngly begged his forgiveness; a be-
ing, of human attributes, whom 1 feared
and loved, and who had the power to
raise me up or strike me dead. All these
things were not myths, nor even matters
Of faith alone / believed in them as
much as 1 believed in my own existence.
And from this faith came a Joy. even the
memory of which Is enough to make life
worth living Whether my faith was
false, or whether, from reaction, 1 be-
came blatant and reviling infidel. Hav-
Ing an ear attuned to the harmony and
melody Of beautiful language, and es-
pecially of prose-poetry, l was attracted
by the rhetoric of Ingersoll His sophistry
did notinhuence me much, but 1t led me to
other works which did. Influenced more
by form than substance, read and re-
of the famous sixteenth and seventeenth
chapters of Gibbons Roman Empire"
which shook my faith in the authenticity
of the Gospels. From Gibbon / passed to
Darwin. Huxley, Wallace, Haeckel, and
the materialists, whose conclusions,
fcolishly believed, completely upset and
destroyed all reality in revelation, and
took away all my remaining faith in the
Bible Jesus Christ, or God. I am glad to
say, however, that the faith of my young
er days had left such an lmperious in
fiuence upon my soul, that, while / pro-
fessed myself an infidel, 1 was still I'M
satisfied; and after cropping in the dark
for two or three years, 1 finally became
convinced that l was wrong. 1 believe
the Bible to be the Word of God, but not
with the warmth and feeling with which
1 used to believe II. 1 believe in Jesus
Christ, but he is to me merely a historical
parsonage, who means but little more to
me than Plato or Aristotle 1 believe in
the existence of God. but this belief is
purely intellectual. 1t has no more in
fluence over my life than the belief in
the law of gravitation. He is vague
abstraction whom neither fear nor love.
My mind, from reading works of science,
has become so analytical and dlssecting.
even in matters of faith, that even crit
icise the grammar and logic of prayers.
All this regard as a misfortune.
crave for the faith of my boyhood days;
1 have struggled for IT.; on my Knees
have begged and implored for 1t, but II
has not come. Z"
This pathetic letter portrays a common
experience. But the longing it expresses
can never be satisfied. 1t is but the old
cry in a new form, II would 1 were
boy again." and the man never can be
boy again. We cannot go back; we must
go forward. II is as impossible to re-
cover the lost faith of ones childhood as
to recover the lost joys and hopes and
loves
The joys OF childhood can never return
to the mature man. In the Christmas
just past the father and mother had their
Christmas joy no less than did their chill
dren; but 1t was not the same. The eager
expectation, the bubbling merriment the
ecstasy of delight in the new possession
these were impossible to the onlookers.
There was both a quieter and a deeper
JOY, in which were strangely mingled with
the reflected gayety of the children the
sorrows and joys of the years that are
gone. The grandfather who sat down on
the floor beside the baby and showed her
how to put her new doll to sleep had a
deeper JOY in the child's possession than
she had In her own; but it was not the
same.
The hopes of childhood never can re-
turn to the mature man. He also has
hopes, but they are not child's hopes.
The one flash and fade with brilliant but
evanescent glory like the aurora borealis;
the other glow with growing light like
the, dawn The one is born of inexperience
that has known no trouble and expects
none. Stevenson has well interpreted this
childhood hope:
THE world is SO full Of a number Of
things,
I'm sure we should all be as happy as
kings"
The other is born of experience; an ex-
perience that has met trouble, vanquished
1t, and made II a minister TO a Joy and
peace that childhood cannot know. Paul
has expressed this manhood hone: I'VE
glory In tribulations also, knowing that
tribulation worketh patience; and pa
tlence, experience; and experience, hope"
The love of youth can never return to
the mature man. Youth has its love and
old age has its love, but they are not the
same. There is a glory of the spring and
glory OF the autumn; for season diff
fereth from season in glory. There is In
mans life but one honeymoon. The or
ange-tree sometimes bears blossoms and
fruit at the same time; but in life the
blossoms fall before the fruit comes the
blossoms will turn to fruit but never the
fruit to blossoms. Youth and age have
each its song of love; but not the same
song. From the ample treasures of song
We select one Interpretation of youthful
love, the closing verses of Coleridge's
"Genevieve:''
Her bosom heaved,-she stepped aside,
AS conscious OF my look she slept
Then suddenly, with timorous eye,
She fed to me and wept.
She half enclosed me with her arms,
She pressed me with a meek embrace;
And, bending back her head looked up.
And gazed upon my face.
Twas partly love, and partly fear,
And partly twas a bashful art
That might rather feel than see
The swelling of her heart
l Gained her fears, and she was calm.
And told her love with virgin pride:
And so / won my Genevieve,
My bright and beauteous Bride"
Compare with this the well-known verse
of Burns's John Anderson, my 10, john"
John Anderson, my 10. John,
We clamb the hill thegither;
And monte canty day, John,
We've had wi ane' anither.
Now We maun totter down, John,
But hand In hand Wen go;
a md ole -