WORKS ON WORKS.

 

WORKS of men are works on the work of God. Works of men are men's works. They are parts of a work. Nothing is complete—all is unfinished. No work of man bears the wisdom of God; and yet much is wise—more unwise. Much that was once wise in men's wisdom, leaves no trace but folly on the page of history. Wise men have opened their fountains of wisdom, which ages have consecrated, and huge piles of musty records, filled with the speculations of undeveloped minds, have appeared. They were works on the work of God. They were the mystical productions of mystical minds—minds enshrouded with the pall of superstition—minds engulphed in the labyrinth of inexperience—minds overshadowed with the darkness of pagan idolatry— minds estranged from the relationship of brotherhood—minds imbued with the selfishness of uncultivated philanthropy—minds soured with the acidity of worldly wisdom—wisdom in measures withering to the soul, and destructive to the general good of man—wisdom artless as it was treacherous, villainous as it was cruel, vindictive as it was foolish—wisdom which sought out many inventions, but not for good—inventions whose object was to aggrandize the few at the expense of many—inventions cunningly devised, yet ignorantly managed—inventions for destruction of men's lives, but not to save them— inventions which placed crowns on the heads of fools, yet offered thorns to the face of philosophy—a philosophy, lean and hungry, but neglected and despised—a philosophy in infancy, but no mother to offer protection, no wisdom to counsel but the voice of nature, no religion but contempt of men and things, and no worship but the avarice of human passion, human glory, human fame, human plunder, riot and war.

 

Look at the works of industry and art. See Sodom and Gomorrah in ashes; Babylon in ruins; Pompeii submerged in lava; Rome, once the mistress of the world, the beggar in rags; Egypt, the patron of genius and the pyramid of art, the home of plenty and clime of glory, the habitation of barbarians, degraded and despised, and whole empires turned and overturned by the merciless hand of works, which conflict with the laws of God in nature. We have seen cities rise and fall. We have traversed over the battle field mid fury and slaughter. We have heard the wail of way dashing like a wave of murder on the shore of eternity. We have been where the storm of passion roared with grating discord. We have visited hamlets and dens, palaces and courts, tombs and hecatombs, the wise and the unwise of other days, and lo! we found only the glory of worldly wisdom. We found only the works of ignorance and vanity. We then said, what is man, with all his works, but a work of God in a state of wonder—in wisdom of worth—worth in the wisdom of God, yet folly in men of misunderstanding. Then, we said, how long will these things be, and what shall be the end thereof?

 

Works on work must perish. And, when they perish, the work of God will stand. When they moulder in dust, wither in sunshine, commingle in ashes, the day of wisdom will appear. We see works on works of worldly wisdom in all departments of human industry. We see works on war, and works on peace; works on fiction, and works on facts; works on folly, and works on wisdom; works on men, and works on the works of men; works of all kinds, and adapted to, as they were conceived in, the condition of human progress, which wills the image of itself, in all ages and in all countries. Indeed, works are but the image of the doer. Works are but the reflection of mind. They are the productions of mind, even as grain is the production of earth. In a barren soil, men reap a barren harvest. In cultivated vineyards, they gather an abundance. In other words, in an unwise mind there is a production; but it is unfit for use; or, if fit for use, it is of a coarser kind. And, besides, there are tares which must be burned, and burned on the soil where they grow; otherwise their reappearance may be expected. Now the tares and the grain grow on the same soil. The soil is good, but indolence suffers it to be uncultivated; and consequently, tares spring up and choke the good seed. So, with the soul. It is good. But ignorance of its value, and indolence in its wise cultivation, have scattered seeds which have overgrown the natural productions of refinement and want. Mind knows not itself; and, not knowing itself, it has dealt harshly with others like itself. Did it appreciate its own value, it would he less likely to abuse its own image in a brother. When man shall see himself in man, he will not quarrel with man, for no man ever yet hated himself. To see himself in another, and yet quarrel with him, is as impossible as it would be to quarrel with himself. Two things identical in their nature are harmonious. Two minds identical in their nature act in concert. Hence, when men shall see themselves in other men, they will mourn with those that mourn, and weep with those who weep. They will unite like two drops of water, like twin brothers in cordial fellowship, like two sounds in harmony, like myself and other spirits of this sphere; and, being united, there will be no wounds to heal, no sorrows to allay, no fears to dispel, no prisons to confine, no tyrants to rule, no murderer to bereave, no works but wise, and no will but love.

 

Works of darkness, works of evil, works of selfishness, works of ignorance, are works of men. Alas! they are the works of a misguided work of God. Man is misguided, reason is misguided, nature in man is misguided. With all the wisdom unfolded, with all the learning understood, with all the religion revealed, with all the faculties of mind employed, with all the schools, colleges, Bibles, papers, laws, governments, discipline, science, art, and refinement, worldly wisdom has vouchsafed to use as means of human progress, the mind is still misguided, wronged, abused, and cheated of mind; and wisdom is not practiced as God and nature require, to feed the soul with bread. And why? Who will tell? Who will overcome? Are our statements wrong? Are we misguided too? Then indeed hope is gone. Who will say, we are deceived? He who judges without knowledge, without evidence, without any thing but ignorance and mistaken assumption to justify. And suppose we are: who then comes with the needed relief? What can man expect which he has not enjoyed from the means which the last eighteen centuries have afforded? Are not the means all that they ever will be on which man has rested for deliverance? Do means gather strength with age? If so, why adopt new inventions? And why adopt new inventions when the old are better, or, at least, as good? And who shall decide which is best? If experience must decide the question, then the old must gain the preference, for new things are things of inexperience—they are experiments; yea, experiments of human wisdom. If the old must stand, it is not difficult to decide the result. Like causes, like conditions will produce, as they ever have produced, like results. And what are those results? Overcome evil with good is yet a stranger on earth. Mind is mind, misguided and abused. When will the world learn righteousness? When will the moral and social wrongs of society be rectified? And how! Works of men have been employed; have failed—not one instance of success. Shall man longer trust in failures for a remedy, or the wisdom which controlled, when failures succeeded failures? How can that be a remedy which fails in its mission? How can that succeed which has never succeeded? Ignorance, misguidance, sin, and misery, are no new things under the sun. They are conditions of mind confined to no era. Means, then, which fail to rectify the same conditions in one age, must fail in another age. Means which originate in the same source, however new, are equally distrustful; because a source can not impart what it does not possess. When man, therefore, calculates on deliverance by means originating in human wisdom, his expectations will be cut off. Human wisdom would be human folly in attempting to cast off itself. Indeed, how can a thing, of itself, destroy itself. How can that which is evil do good? How can mind, misguided, guide? How can the soul in ignorance enlighten? How can that in which there is no light, give light; in which there is no wisdom give wisdom; in which there is no truth, give truth? Misguided, it misguides; misdirected, it misdirects; uncorrected, it will not correct. Whence, then, comes the antidote? Is it found in the works of men, or in the wisdom of God? Whence, then, comes the hope of the world? Is it from earth or heaven? Whence came the inspiration of Revelation? Was it from earth or heaven? Whence came the power to work miracles? Was it from God or men? All from on high. No human hand was in the work; but the wisdom of God moved, and when it moved, the movement was felt and obeyed. Such is, and such will be, as it has been, the distinction between human and divine wisdom.

 

What, we ask, shall be done to afford the needed relief? We have seen that a disease can not cure itself. We have seen all modes of treatment adopted as remedies for the evils and ills of man, by the works of man, but without success. No man can tell why men should be compelled to languish and despair without relief. No man can tell how these evils can be overcome by man. No man can do what he can not tell how to do. Some men tell what God can do. Others tell what he can not do. Some men hope, and some despair of deliverance. Some will write, preach, and publish, what God will do to rectify the wrongs of men, but few expect those wrongs can be overcome where they exist. They can see no wisdom equal to the undertaking, which will interpose in the work of reform till the resurrection. When the resurrection is, or what it is, they do not know. Some believe it will commence when the body dies, others do not. Neither one nor the other know what they should know, on such an important subject. But they work; alas! and what work do they produce? Do their opinions rectify even their own wrongs? And, if they do not reform the believer from his wrongs, can it be reasonably expected that others will be overcome of their wrongs?

 

We find men not content under such a state of things. We see them groaning under the heavy burdens which are levied upon them to support opinions— opinions of men who need to go to school, and learn the first rudiments of religion in the school of wisdom as taught by Jesus, and as revealed in nature. Men who do not know what the resurrection is, nor when it is, certainly have some thing to learn before they can be very useful to others. They have a lesson to learn which will open their eyes and reveal their ignorance, when the whole truth of that subject shall be revealed to them. They have a lesson to learn which the will and wisdom of men, like themselves, can not teach. It is a lesson which their will and wisdom can not unfold? It is a lesson which even the Bible, however useful and true, does not satisfactorily disclose. It is a doctrine which has been revealed, but all the revelation is not in the hands of men. The whole subject was developed by Jesus, but the development is fragmentary in the Bible. Yes, it is darkness; and men of all professions are stumbling in that darkness, not being able to know what the resurrection is, or when it is, or how it is with the children of the resurrection.

 

Works on works have been written, preached, and published, to explain something which the workers did not understand, to throw light on revelation from heaven; as though revelation solicited light from those in whom there was no light, and where its light shone to, give light; as though the wisdom of God in that light needed more light to make men in the body see it; as though a professedly satisfactory revelation was unsatisfactory without the aid of human wisdom to solve its sayings, without the doings of man to unfold its unfoldings; as though wisdom required folly to commence sowing where it had sown the seed of truth; as though that sowing would encourage the growth of wisdom on earth; as though the earth would be productive of no harvest unless folly shared in its cultivation; as though that cultivation required something more than infinite wisdom and skill, and, consequently, demanded a share of folly to give bread and life to a hungry world.

 

Works of men have their objects. Has selfishness nothing to grain by its works? Does it work without money, without expectation of remuneration? Are all the works on the works of God disinterested? Are they written and published without any other motive than to do good is there no sect or party, no fame or honor, no worldly applause or glory, no secret hostility to wisdom, as unfolded in the Bible to gratify, no workings of strife or emulation to encourage, no discipline to enforce, no creed to cherish or demolish? We ask, where and to whom are the works of men dedicated? Where and by whom are the works of men consecrated? And by what wisdom are they approved? Is it from earth or heaven? No voice of approbation descends through the murky darkness to cheer children who love darkness rather than light, because they love the praise of men more than the praise of God. No voice but wonder, no echo but human, responds to the folly of works on the work of God.

 

Works of men sometimes contemplate what the law of God forbids. They contemplate selfishness. They contemplate their own as well as other's good; other's good remains the last to be served—other's good more frequently is not considered. Other's good is well. Self is well, when other's good is sought as is its own. Works are well, when other's participate in their advantages. Preaching is well, when it does other's good. Publishing is well, when the public are benefited. But when written works darken counsel, when they pour out their own shame on the wisdom of God, it is false to duty, it is treacherous to humanity, not to rebuke the ignorance, which casts its seed on ground where the wisdom of heaven has scattered an abundance of good things.

 

Works of men are deceptive. Books, sermons, essays, articles, written by man, are more or less deceptive. They corrupt the mind. They often engender a wisdom which is uncharitable, cruel, or destructive to the well being of man. They often speak of charity as "the bond of perfection," as the greatest of all virtues, but not adhering to what is good for others, the authors proceed to deny, practically, the duty of doing unto others as they would have them do unto them. They think evil so far as to dislike the practice of their endorsed bond. They think one thing for themselves, and another thing for others. The balances are well, but who made the scales, who touches the beam, who controls the weight? We shall not repeat what every mind knows'. And yet, their books tell men how to live, how to act, and what to do, to enter the kingdom of God. All this is well. It is not the book, it is not the author with whom we have to do; but it is his works. Has he demanded of others what he is unwilling to practice himself? Has be taught a lesson in which he has no confidence? Has be preached a sermon which he never obeyed? Has he preached against extortion, and yet extorted—if not money, yet what is worth more—extorted a blind acquiescence to all his dogmatical assumptions; if not of the widow, yet of her unimproved children; if not of the poor, yet of those who rob the poor of their honest industry to aid the works of hirelings, who bargain the treasure of heaven to promote their unworthy aggrandizement? Has he compromised what was not his own? His be sold what he never owned—the wisdom of God? Has he bartered away what belonged to others, and received a consideration? If such are his works, what are his books, his sermons, his preaching to others? All for what? We need not say.

 

Works are what they are. What they are is one thing; what they will be when the wisdom of God shall rule on earth as in heaven, is another thing. It is not for us to say, who will or who will not be a doer of the word. It is sufficient, in this place, to expose what is done, and how it is done. We see men anxious to know the truth, and yet they do not know where it can be found. Conflict reigns on earth. Party and selfishness share in the spoils of victory. When they are satisfied with what they have obtained, it would seem to some minds premature to disturb their contentment. But do they rest? Is not restlessness the energy, the activity of the world. All works are works for enjoyment or gratification? Mind does not labor for nothing, or without an object desirable. The whole energy, then, of a race, a multitude, has been in motion for enjoyment? It is now in motion. Spirits are not idle. They work for joy. They work for good, not of themselves alone, but others. The labors of this book are not on our account, but the good of our children, who need our assistance. And it is no new philosophy with us, that in doing good to men on earth, there is great joy in heaven. Spirits in the body are in motion. They seek, but they do not find. Why? Because they consult men who have no understanding, because they seek where wisdom is not, and because they labor for what is not bread to the soul.

 

We have seen the vineyard all grown over with nettles and thorns. We have seen souls wearied with work. We have seen briars and thorns which would choke the energy of endeavor to write their anguish, cursing the ground where wretchedness found no mitigation. We have seen wisdom descend on clouds of glory, but vainly was her mission. She came, but worldly wisdom shut the doors of investigation, and armed souls with prejudice, forbidding intrusion upon customs made venerable by age; on doctrines perpetuated by extortion; on forms sacred in the eye of idolatry; on creeds necessary to the servitude of slaves; on rituals suited only to menials; on platforms and establishments consecrated to party; on wisdom wonderful but unanswerable to the good of all; on wisdom exclusive, partial, unjust, vindictive, deceptive, and cruel; on wisdom selfish, debasing, oppressive, and devilish; on wisdom foolish, ignorant, and wretched; and on wisdom empty, vain and unsatisfactory to the posessor. Wisdom came— wisdom retired. Wisdom sought and found, but she was not heard in the streets, nor in the palaces, nor in the temples made with hands, nor in halls of legislation, nor in festival associations, nor in schools of art, nor in academies of science, nor in books, but she came in the brightness of angels, in the glory of heaven, and men wondered; but they fell down before the beast, and asked forgiveness for their wonder.

 

Works on works of charity will serve to show what need be shown. What is charity? What are the works of charity? Works on charity are not always charitable. Charity is love. It is the manifestation of love. It is the work of love. It thinks no evil. It is not selfish. It is not cruel. It is not blind. It is not indolent. But it is good—good to the needy—good conferred on the children of want. Want is the subject, love the donor. When the subject receives a good, without the expectation of a return, without promise of remuneration, it is a gift of charity. All gifts supplying a need—a necessary want, are charities. But nothing is a gift where conditions offer considerations of gain for the thing conferred. No matter what that gain is, it, being a gain, is equivalent to a remuneration. It is equivalent to a contract between two parties, made with a view to some selfish advantage. When such advantage is sought, the means by which it is obtained are neither gifts nor charities. Minds of charity see the enjoyment of a brother, or sister, or child of misfortune. They seek no praise or commendation of men. Love moves in the work, and the work is but the outpouring of a surcharged soul with philanthropy. They are deeds of kindness—kindness like rain on the thirsty ground—kindness like water where vegetation languishes—kindness like bread to the famishing, like manna from heaven, like streams in the desert, like smiles on tears, like light in darkness, and like love seeking no reward. They are where angels visit, where wisdom visits, where love visits, where righteousness visits, to water the plants of our heavenly Father's vineyard. They write no works but the work of doing unto others, as love, religion, humanity, justice, relationship, and duty, demand. They publish no papers, magazines, or books, lauding what has been done, neither do they suffer the left hand, or next door neighbors, to know what their Tight hands have done. They preach only as they practice, but not in high sounding words, not in tongues which men do not understand, not in frothy declamation without meaning, not in tinkling cymbals to please selfish ears, not in words that flatter to deceive, not in eloquence without a soul, not in motives to shield what is wanting in works, not in works to conceal what is wanting in duty, nor yet to cover what is omitted in the wisdom of cold and sinister minds which withhold the needed alms from the stranger within the gates of plenty. Minds of charity go not out of the way to gather praise of men, nor do they proclaim on the house-top to doings of their own hands. They are peaceable—not ostentatious. They seek no reward but the sweetness of relief bestowed on the needy. Alas! no reward! What greater can they seek, than the blessing which makes others blest? What other can they gain? Is heaven opened? To whom? To whom but the doer. To whom but the soul that seeks heaven in doing unto others, as it would have them do unto him? To whom but the mind which seeks, and never seeks in vain, to find a blessing in blessing the needy children of want. To whom, but the soul that doeth the will of God.

 

Will of God is the joy of the soul. Will of God is the will of right. Will of God is the work of angels. It is the positive mind which controls all nature. It is the law of harmony. It is the law which thinks no evil, which contemplates no wrong, and which destroys no joy. Works must harmonize with that law to be consonant with the will of God. Man can not share in its promised blessing, without the will of God is regarded and obeyed. To obey is to do, and to do is to make him happy who makes others happy. Good to others is a blessing to him who does good. He who receives and he who gives, are, mutually blessed. This is the law of God. Its beauties are seen in heaven. Its glory is our mission on earth. We come with the needed blessing. We come with precious ointment to heal the distress of disease, by curing the disease itself. We come with ointment which will heal the wounds which! sin has made, and give health to the weary of worldly sorrows, pains, and fears. To do what man can not do, is our work. And, when men shall work as we work in preparing mind for a mansion of charity, so that, in blessing others, it will itself be blest, works on social reform will become obsolete things, worthy only of a name amid the wreck of matter cast into the sea of oblivion. Then the poor will become rich, and the rich will become richer, because wisdom is of more value than riches. Then minds—the work of God—will not write, preach, or publish, tales which mercy forbids—tales which comfort no soul—tales which bind up no wound—tales which never control one misfortune, alleviate one pang, remove one pain, or chase away one wrong—tales that never pity one sufferer, or sympathizes it, the charity that works for the emancipation of all who are slaves to the tyranny and misrule of a craft matured in the folly of perverted humanity.

 

Minds of men are crafty. Crafts are hobbies on which men ride. Crafts sail with the aid of currents. They follow channels where currents run. They go downwards. They never seek the fountain. They move as currents move. They rise and fall with the current. They are made to float on the surface. They never dive to the bottom to rise. If they sink they sink to rise no more. Such is era ft. Works of craft are works of the surface, which maybe seen. We see craft in all professions, in all channels. We see craftsmen also. No mind can write, preach, or publish, without craft to answer the conveyance of his message. We have our craft, but we are the craftsmen. We manage the ship. It is not the ship, then, it is not the craft which we oppose, but the cargo—the goods that are contraband to law, which we shall seize and destroy. There are slaves on board. They must be set free. There are provisions unwholesome to the slave, which must be taken away. There are stores destructive to men's lives, which are not needed in time of peace. Peace is now proclaimed, and we intend to cast the destructive weapons of war into the sea. Though we have resolved to conquer, we can have no use for them in securing the victory. What we can not do by light to banish darkness, by truth to overcome error, by right to supplant wrong, by justice to undo injustice, by love to work out hate, and by mercy to control cruelty, we shall leave undone. The implements of war must perish. The goods of pirates must be confiscated, and the bread of the craftsmen must be exchanged for the bread of eternal life. They will not eat that which gives no life. They will not drink that which intoxicates and arouses the beast in the man. They will not contend against their friends; for we come to do them good. They will see peace on our banner, peace on our tongues, and peace in our works. We are the messengers of peace. We live in peace, our country is at peace with all nations. It is the asylum of all the world. And yet there are none who want, or wanting go unrelieved. There are none destitute, and destitute call in vain for help. Heaven is where we live, and heaven is heaven, because all citizens in heaven are co-workers in doing, the will of God. It is heaven, because the angry storm of contention overshadows not the plain of our repose. It is heaven because the red lightnings of war flash no more athwart the sky of celestial day. It is heaven, because all things conspire to develope the glory of God, and the eternal harmony of his works. It is heaven, because the visible things of earth and the invisible things of spirits, are understood and enjoyed. It is heaven, because the law of development affords encouragement for minds to bring, the plain of earth upward to the plain of heaven. It is heaven, because the armies of heaven are armies, not of aggression or defence, but of constant exercise, of untiring endeavor, to enlighten and save the world from the evils of the world. It is heaven, because God is our Helper, we are his servants, and the spheres the place of our habitation.

 

But how can we work, how can we labor without an object? What can we do which we have not done? We can only will to do what we can, and can only do what we will. This is our answer. Time must decide what we are not disposed to forestall by prediction.

 

Minds of charity are disinterested, so to speak, when the good of others is promoted by pecuniary sacrifice. Have spirits of this sphere any pecuniary sacrifice to make? No, but they have a sacrifice to offer. They have a lamb, not of flesh and, blood, to lay upon the altar. It is a free-will offering. It is without money and without price. It is a lamb without blemish. It is a lamb slain from the foundation of the world. It is a celestial lamb, whose strength is for the healing of the nations. It is a lamb whose strength all nations need, whose value all nations will cordially admit, when they see what we now see. It is a lamb whose garments men have not wisdom to imitate. It is a lamb whose wisdom men have scorned and derided, and they have scorned and derided because they have envied his compassion, his meekness, his humility, his gentleness, his forbearance, his forgiveness, his generosity, his liberality, his sacrifice, for the good of those who slew him, and slew him because he was good. This Lamb is the sun of Righteousness. This Lamb is the Son of God. This Lamb is the Saviour of the world. This Lamb is the doctrine we unfold, the tidings we bring, the repentance we counsel, the charity we admire, the purity we uphold, the crown we confer, the diadem we give, the wisdom we teach, the love we announce, the truth we proclaim, and the joy we realize. No martial trump of war, no murderous cannon's roar, no wonders in heaven or on earth, no cavalcades of worshipers, no shrines of ambition, no tears of sorrow, no wailings of despondency, no rivers of blood, no voices of disapprobation, no murmurs of discontent, no outbreaks of passion, no convulsions of nature, no follies of human wisdom, attend the witness of wisdom from God to men. He comes again in robes of righteousness, but who will admire? He comes with the banner of victory, but who will join the standard? He comes to rule, but who will obey? He comes to save, but who will turn to him? He comes to deliver, but who is thankful? who accepts the cross which he brings? Who takes the helmet he wears, the hope he encourages, the fruit he scatters? Alas! who seeks and finds? who knocks, and it is open unto him? who mourns, and is comforted? and who turns from his sins and errors, and is saved? We will answer, when the answer can be recorded without harm to "charity which thinketh no evil."

 

Men consult policy. They canvas effects. They determine results. They weigh circumstances, in doing which they prejudge, or rather control what is useful so that it will be acceptable to others. It is the condition of others—their will of approbation or disapprobation—which controls and determines what shall, and what shall not, be done. When policy rules the doer, he is but the wisdom of that which he consults. He seeks to do what will be acceptable to those whose approbation he desires, or whose disapprobation he fears. He is, therefore, but the exponent of them, and his doings will be as perfect a daguerreotype, as his skill and information can produce. He aims to do what will please them, and, if he fail, it is the result of his ignorance of their condition. He writes, preaches, acts, and publishes, what his wisdom calculates will receive public approbation. And when that object is gained, he is contented, as far as contentment can be expected from such a condition of mind—a mind dependent on others—on others, perhaps, less cultivated, less qualified to exert a good influence than himself—a mind hemmed in with vices and follies of works on works—a mind incapacitated to act as duty and truth require, because policy governs, because others rule—a mind seeking praise of men in commending what God has forbidden, what religion reproves, what infidelity to revelation sanctions, what treason to human progress justifies, and justifies because it seeks what is congenial to the supposed wish of men.

 

Have men intended harm by their artful policies? Policy makes war, and it makes peace. Policy governs countries, and controls armies. Policy commands fleets, and makes citadels. Policy makes and unmakes men. Nations rise and fall under the policy of rulers. But the policy of one age, or nation, or individual, is not the policy of all.

 

Policy is no settled principle of right. It can hold no claim to right, only as right is understood to be what is expedient. All things may be expedient under circumstances of what may be called adaptation, but are all things right? If circumstances make wrong right, then right is only what circumstances justify, and wrong what they do not justify. But if right be an immutable principle, applicable to all circumstances, the conduct of those who write, preach, act, and publish, what is welcome to the ear of popularity, may not find every thing they have done to be in accordance with the rule they consult. What is right, under this rule, has nothing, to do with circumstances, except to control them. When men say, it is right, they mean what they say. But what makes it right? Why is it right? As these questions are answered, so right or wrong is evolved. Will all answer them alike? Will all answer only correctly? We will say, no. But who answers wrong? Who right? That is the question which will most concern those who will write, preach, act, and publish, what the public will justify or condemn. We will write what we know, and we know that right is not wrong, nor wrong right. We will write what we know is right. But how do we will to write, or what do we will to write? As conditions require, or otherwise? If we will to write as conditions do not require, is it either good or wise? If we will to write as conditions require, is it not good and wise? Do not, then, conditions control our will? And does not our will control the conditions? Just so far as one is dependent, so is the other. Conditions call into exercise our will, and our will answers the call by consulting the best good we can do. But conditions are variable and various. Is it not evident, then, that as conditions vary will must vary, and as will varies so right and wrong vary—vary insomuch that what might be useful in one condition, might be useless in another, what would be best in one state would not be good in another, what would be a panacea for one disease would be no remedy for another, what would cure one man would kill another, and what would be right in one condition would be wrong in another.

 

Policy may be wise, or unwise? If wise, it is good; if good, it is right. Right is good, wrong is bad. Wise policy is good and right; unwise policy is evil and not right. Human policy varies, as human wisdom varies. When men consult the wisdom of men, they consult not the wisdom of God. When they write, preach, and publish, to gain the approbation of men; they gain a meagre reward

 

they seldom gain the good of wisdom; they fail of securing what right demands; they write, preachy and publish the wisdom of the world, which is wisdom in selfishness. When they write, or do what is wise with men, they often write and do what is unwise with God. Is it right, then, to obey God, or men? If men, then it is right to do what will please men, without regard to their good or ill? If men are the standard of right, men-pleasers are righteous; but if God, then the question of policy, whether right or wrong, assumes a grave importance. Wisdom will not justify the flattery necessary to secure the approbation of men, which we see in men who act in reference to that object. What meets public approbation corrects no public wrong, and what corrects no wrong is not good; because for any thing to be good, it must do good; and doing good is not remaining idle, when the calls for relief ring in our ears from winter to summer, and summer to winter, from all conditions where the plague of ignorance scatters its mournful desolation, and where the awful wretchedness of worldly policy controls the works of man. We see what we will expose. We see men, women, and children, writhing under a policy which neither God nor angels can approve. We see them groaning under a system which withers every soul with evil, which no policy other than divine can cure; because two wrongs never make one right, and two evils never make one good. We see what no man in the body can see without our aid. We see one policy conflicting with another. We see wrong and evil disputing and wrangling with each other, and whole empires convulsed with the policy of worldly interest. We see anarchy and insubordination to laws, established on the basis of human policy, converting men into machines for mischief, and making machines of men to convert others to worse than mercenary outcasts. We see whole nations, writhing over the fire of jealousy, and burning over the coals of wretchedness. We understand the secret. Policy is what has done all this. Policy is what will cure all this. Policy is what we shall study and use, and policy is what we shall oppose and overcome. But when? When the world shall write, preach, and publish, as we write, preach, and publish. When writing, preaching, and publishing shall be subservient to our control, or to the wisdom which controls us. And not till then. How long that will be, progress, in the knowledge of the truth to the wisdom of God, must answer. We see only a gleam of light on the face of the earth. We see gross darkness baffling almost every effort to dissipate the gloom. We see the policy which closes the gates of entrance against us. We see the reason which men employ, the why and the wherefore of their opposition. We see some have concerns which need not be told, fears which should be commiserated, doings which solicit no revealment, wrongs which afford them subsistence, errors which are a monopoly in crime, evils which cover their souls like sores of leprosy, wounds which degrade and disgrace by exposure, minds which will what is congenial to no reform, hearts which spurn advice from angels, feelings which sympathize in word and deed with ulcers of corruption, festering on the back of slaves, and man wronging man without remedy or restoration. We have sympathized and relieved, while they have scorned and derided. We have toiled and labored, while they have wondered and abused. This is the policy of men. This is the gratitude of men. This is the folly of men. This is the wages of ignorance. This is the reward of mischief. This is the doing of policy—a policy which subverts the good of the world—a policy which stains the soul with blemish that weary years of repentance can not remove—a policy which time nor eternity can overcome, while the will of man is set in its favor; while the mind hugs it with the affection of a brother, and nurses it as a child whose good demands its everlasting protection. Yes: this is policy; but who admires, who adores, who loves, who obeys its mandates? Look over the history of the present era! Look over the history of angel visits to the sphere of man. Who writes, who preaches, who publishes, without consulting the ignorance and approbation of men? Alas! Who?

 

We will answer. He who writes, preaches, and publishes, that which does good, that which does no evil, that which wrongs no man but benefits all. He is the man whose policy is governed by the wisdom of heaven. He seeks good, and his works prove it. He stands like an oasis in the desert, like a pillar in the temple of God, like a ship on the wave of waters, like a rock on columns of granite, like a planet on the circle of spheres, like a world on worlds of affinity, like a man who acknowledges a responsibility to God and a duty to others. His policy will stand when rolling years shall vanish away. It will not be moved when crumbling earths and wider seas shall sink to rise no more. It will be forever wise, and forever good as wise.

 

Minds will show wisdom or folly. The day will come when works will reveal their merit or demerit. The day has come when spirits see who seeks to please God, and who covets the approbation of worldly wisdom. The eyes of the upper world are on the lower. The works of iniquity, as the works of good, are all within our vision. No retreat can conceal crime from us. Its naked deformity overcomes the midnight. No wisdom of man can hide the sins which open to our view. No work or device escapes the inspection of God. All things written, preached, and published, never can, and never will, pass the judgment of his bar, without a just recompense of reward. He sits on the throne of the universe, and, that throne is the invisible presence of his infinite justice. He loves, but he rewards. He chastens, but he loves. He lays open the sores of disease, but he cures. He writes, but nature is the parchment. He preaches, but it is a still and sweet voice that breathes words of mercy on the noiseless air. He publishes, but his book is worlds on worlds with infinity superadded. No man can comprehend the wisdom of his writings. No man can soar to the brightness of his message of love—love which no imagination can survey—love which no mind can fathom—love without centre or circle, degree or limits, boundless as the immensity of his works, eternal as the durability of eternity, and unchanging as the structure of his mind is infinite. No mind need wish what is not his to give, nor hope what is not his will to grant; for vain must be the attempt to wish or hope for mercies beyond the measure of his wisdom to bestow, or love to grant to mind in the progress of its development.

 

Works produce changes—changes in men and things—changes in conditions and relation—changes in morals and religion—changes in duties and obligations—changes in social and civil contracts—changes in government and discipline—changes in rewards and punishments—changes in customs and habits—changes in means and measures—changes in every thing but what is unchangeable. Change is nothing new, as a change, but all changes develope new things. When change comes over mind or matter, the thing changed is different—it is not what it was before. Change is work, work is to change. Change is to change what is supposed requires a change. All suppositions, however, are not useful. All changes, wrought upon suppositions, are not beneficial. Suppositions are not always facts. Changes wrought not on facts are false to progress, false to happiness, false to the good of man. Supposition is often mischievous, and works of mischief are works of wrong. When men desire a change, they will be wise to consult the facts concerned in the change. If they overlook the facts, the change may be ruinous. When men consult facts, they can not be deceived; but when they reason from suppositions, mischief may ensue. When men suppose, they suppose upon probabilities. Probabilities are not always facts. When probabilities are not facts, disappointments must result. When men are disappointed, they will suffer the consequences of their folly. Their works provoke their own reward.

 

Changes concern all who are affected with them. They concern the worked, and the individual changed. They concern those interested in the good or ill done. Who is not interested? Who has no interest in the weal or woe of a brother? All will see what is truth, and when, they see the truth, they will acknowledge an interest in the welfare of all souls, on earth or in heaven. There is a tie which no mind can unite, binding the whole work of God together, binding all mankind with a cord of sympathy indissoluble as immortality, and which unites all in one, and one in all. When minds contemplate a disturbance of this work of God, they are faulty, and disappoint the good of all, and the one in all. They commence a work which they can never complete, a work they can never consummate. It is, therefore, the extreme of folly to attempt a dissolution of a tie which God has irrevocably made. No man can chancre it, nor can he change the relation, which he sustains toward God or man. He may seek what is incompatible with that relation, he may chancre what is right into wrong; but the relation and the obligation of that relation he cannot change. No supposition, no work predicated upon a supposition, denying that relation, can stand. It will fall with awful power on his own head.

 

Such has been, and such ever will be, the curse of all changes disagreeing with the obligation of universal brotherhood. Neither time nor distance, neither belief nor unbelief, neither weal nor woe, neither riches nor poverty, neither virtue nor vice, neither bond nor free, alter the immutable law of relation between mind and mind. As well might earth disown her offspring, as well might suns deny their circles, and moons their dependence, as well might day exclude the night and night the day, as well might all things work without a mover and move without a work, as for mind to deny its relation to mind, and God to all mind.

 

Change, then, either supposes something favorable or unfavorable to the relation subsisting as a bond of union between all souls. It designs a change. It sets in motion means equal to change one condition to another. When that condition is changed, it must be better or worse than when in the former condition. If better, it is wise, if not, unwise. When changes, therefore, are wrought by the wisdom of Heaven; they must be wise and good; for no unwise or evil thing can proceed from a good and wise fountain. When changes are made by the wisdom of man, it would surprise itself, if selfishness had no concern in the work. When selfishness enters into the change, it would surprise itself, if all men shared in the benefits of the change. Selfishness and relation, with the obligation of That relation, are antagonistical. With one, all is the interest of one, with the other the interests of all are included in one. When we say all, we mean all interests are subserved by individual sacrifice. When we say one is the interest of one, we mean, all other individual interests are considered as abandoned to selfish aggrandizement.

 

Change is seen in the face of the material world. Wonders have been performed on the ground you now rest. It is not what it was. You wonder at the change. You wonder at the wonder. You witness a change in all animal and vegetable forms. What was, is not. The transitory is written on the leaf of every flower. The wind of autumn blows, and the seared leaf falls. The winter comes, and death reigns. Contemplate the desolation. See what wind and storm have done. See what cold and ice have done. Not a flower, not a brook, not a work of smiling sunshine, not a man, nor beast, nor bird, nor insect, but what feels the awful visitation of wonder with mournful sadness. We see what will change this sadness into joy. The morning glory of spring revives what chilling autumn has made desolate. Under its genial influence the mourning winter of death, as it is called, passes into sweetness of victory. Who contemplates with us what wisdom sits enthroned on the bosom of decaying worlds on worlds of vegetable life? Who believes that life remains among the dead and buried of winter? Who supposes that whole empires of vegetable life will revive, and, reviving, adorn the land they will ever inhabit? We will say what wisdom has said. We will say what nature has said is true. And what nature is to flowers, God is to man. He wills what men call death.

 

Change is alteration. Nothing changed is the same. When wisdom changes, the change is good. When folly changes, it is evil. No change in nature makes the thing changed worse. All God does is wise, and wise because good. Alas! does the wisdom of man comprehend it? Does the perishing form of flower indicate wisdom? Does the seared leaf of autumn denote wisdom? Is nature true to wisdom? Why, the desolation of blossoming empires laid waste? Why, the ruthless hand of the destroying angel overcoming the innocence of smiling nature? Are these the works of wisdom—a wisdom true to good? No man can fathom the inscrutable purpose of wisdom, unless her voice be heard, and, her language understood. The wisdom of men sees gloom and desolation. The wisdom of God sees glory in the gloom, and beauty in death. The man of the body sees wisdom in self. The man of heaven sees wisdom in all things. The day of death is sweeter than the day of birth. The opening flower of an immortal mind blooms to die, and dies to live. Such is the aspect of nature to mind. But really wisdom sees no death. It sees a change. Death, apparently, dies to live. It dies to beauty in one form, to assume a glorious beauty in another form. It dies when disease works in changing death to life. It dies when colors fade to tints of rainbow hue. It dies when sweetness passes into fragrance sweeter still. It dies when weary summer fills gloomy autumn with the luxury of life. You wonder at the spectacle. Harps bang in mourning. The notes of song die on the lap of abundance. The wail of moaning minds vibrates the sadness of the disconsolate. The music of song wafts no solace to the heart of the bereaved. Wisdom sees the change. Wisdom works the change. The change is death—is life. The change is gloom—is glory. The change is mourning—is feasting. The change is sadness—is joy. The change is wise—is good. The change is decay—is progress. The change is of mind— is of God.

 

Wisdom sees change in mind. It sees what mind does not see. It sees a stream—not a stream; an ocean—not an ocean; a world—not a world; a circle—not a circle; but worlds on worlds of life in death. It sees mind overcome mind, sees it as it weeps over the bier of a cherished form, pouring melting tears on the coffin that is soon to sink into the desolate chamber of worms—soon to pass away in dust to be known no more like the perishing flower. Alas! what havoc has death made? What wretchedness saddens the souls whose winter of bereavement has stilled the song of joy, and made desolate the widow, and her orphan children? What wisdom sees they do not see. They see the gloom of night resting over the grave. They see the dark curtain of worldly wisdom, smiting their minds with intense suffering, as it opens no window of hope, no world of joy, no wisdom but ashes, no solace but wretchedness, no consolation but grief, no beauty but dust, no glory but darkness, and no sun but sorrow, shedding tears hot with anguish, like melting drops of lead on the widowed and orphanized souls of mortality. What is the cup of one is the cup of many—of all in varied form. What has been will continue to be, until change shall come over the world of mind, and the dawning light of truth chase away the wretchedness of angry works of darkness. We would come to widows and orphans in their solitude, and bring the cup of salvation; we would take away the sting of death; we would unlock the gates of wealth; we would open the treasures of wisdom; we would change the gloom of bereavement; we would dry the widow's and orphan's tears; we would kindle the flame of glory, which burns brighter and brighter; and we would save their minds from the evil of the calamity; but who arrests our attempt? Who sacrifices the mind's dearest boon? Who writes, preaches, and publishes, fraud upon fraud, deception upon deception, scandal upon scandal, evil upon evil, to counteract what we intend for the good of all? Answer, all who oppose the tidings we bring. All who write, preach, and publish what wisdom in selfishness justifies? All who combat a philosophy they have not the wisdom to expose, or the common honesty to acknowledge. All who glory in their own shame, because their deeds are evil. All who riot in wrong, because wrong gains plunder from hands, bleeding with wrong to wipe away the ills of life. All who combine to undo a work commended by God, and consecrated by his eternal wisdom. All who hazard the interests of a world to gratify the ignorance of a world. All who gratify the ignorance of a world to vindicate the pride of wealth, popularity, and selfishness of individual poverty. All who wish to be kings, nobles, masters, rulers, and captains over the hosts of Israel, and are willing to bow down and do homage to the work of men's hands, that they may secure the worthlessness of their folly? Such are they who wonder at the disclosures from heaven, revealed in these days of spiritual famine. Such they who wonder, because honest and fearless souls have found a truth which they have not found. Such are they who wonder, because this truth has been revealed unto babes, and not unto those who are wise in their own conceit. Such are they who wonder, and tremble when they wonder, because the arm of God is made bare to write, preach, and publish his salvation, without the aid of fawning sycophants or hireling slaves; who make a merchandise of their own wisdom, who sell their own rags, to men, women, and children under the fraudulent pretence of saving their souls, when the wisdom of selfish gain is the real object. We wonder. We deplore. We weep. We come to change what is wrong, and work a change that will make all souls rejoice with everlasting joy.

 

Change is perpetual. Change is not confined to things temporal. The spirit world is full of change. All things change but God and his perfections. He alone is unchangeable. No change in his wisdom is necessary. No good could be attained by such change. He is forever and ever the unchanging cause of all changes. But when we say, heaven changes, it is not as matter changes. It is not as forms change on earth. It is not as mind sometimes changes in the body. No, nor yet as the flower, the insect, the shrub, and the face of nature undergo changes. But there is a change, and that change is glorious—that change is good—that change is progress; and that progress is the resurrection. It is a resurrection unto victory—a victory subduing to selfishness, subduing to ignorance of spirits, subduing to pain and death, subduing to worldly fame and honor, subduing to passion and revenge, subduing to all the evils which disgrace and degrade the minds of men in the rudimental sphere. It is a resurrection, so called, because it elevates mind from death and works of darkness. It is a resurrection, because the soul is free to explore the works of God, and admire the wonders of his glorious temple. It is a resurrection, because the same immortal, that dwelt in first sphere, rises new born into the second sphere. It is a resurrection, because the same spirit, which inhabited the body, inhabits a body not of earth. It is a resurrection, because the spiritual body is an exact miniature, or identical likeness of the human body. It is a resurrection, because this change is so called. We say, so called. By whom? By spirits instructed in the wisdom of God. We see as we are seen, we know as we are known. Such is change in the resurrection.

 

But it is not instantaneous. It is not the work of a moment, an hour, a day, a year, or an age; it is the work of eternity. The resurrection is the progress of the immortal mind in the knowledge of the truth. It can never end, because eternal progress has no end. It begins, but ends not. It is unwise to say, after the resurrection, or beyond it, because a thing can not be after or beyond itself. What is, is not after is. After is an impossibility. Eternity has no after or beyond. We see no after the resurrection. Neither is there any thing beyond it. Hence, change, or the thing, changed, is a work of eternal progression. What we see we know, and what we know can never be untrue. It can never be overthrown.

 

Truth is one thing that never changes. It is like the wisdom of God immutable. It is what God reveals. And what he reveals nothing can change. All revelation of God is true. All things are not revealed to men. All things are not revealed to spirits. But revelation is progressive. All revelation is progressive. It will never end, because its ending would arrest the progress of mind, and limit the wisdom of God. It is unwise to say, that wisdom can be controlled, because no power exists which is competent to do it.

 

Weak minds concern themselves about what spirits should, or should not reveal. They profess to desire a change among men—a reform in society! But how is that reform to be effected? Can it be effected without a revelation? How is truth to be understood without a revealment to the mind? And what is revelation but a revealment of truth? We sympathize with revelation, but we do not sympathize with the hostility it receives. Men of high repute in the body, profess what they do not practice. We see them writing, preaching and publishing sermons, tracts, and essays, showing the advantages of revelation; and we see the same men writhing and gnashing their teeth against all disclosures of truth from heaven, not under the ban of their especial dictation. We see them signing death warrants against the spirits, and haranguing the populace with bewitching words not to believe the revealments made by spirits of God. We see them write books and sermons, we hear them eulogize the revelation of God as divine, and call upon men to observe its laws, which are made plain by the inspiration of spirits. All this is well. But who denounces revelation? Have we not revealed the truth? Have we not disclosed facts worthy of their regard? Have we contradicted the laws of God? Nay: but that is not the secret. We have contradicted the laws of usurpation, the laws which uphold men in wrong, the customs which glorify men, and debase the soul, the customs which pervert justice, and injure the mind, the habits which are wretched with shame and misery, and work oppressively, with burdens hard and severe, on the shoulders of brethren and sisters, whose salvation is dearer to us than the approbation of selfish ignorance.

 

Have we done what God has forbidden? Have we contradicted truth? Have we degenerated in morals? Have we abused our high calling? Have we disgraced our profession? Have we robbed widow's houses? Have we gainsayed the revelation of God? Have we distrusted that revelation? Have we commended revelation, and then signed resolutions declaratory of our opposition to revelation? Have we said revelation was complete and satisfactory, and then elaborated with our own hands such improvements, and extenuated such amendments, as would justify what we wanted to make that revelation conform to our creed, or our sectarian notions of right. If we have, then let him who is without sin cast the first stone. But, if we have not, who will justify himself before God in condemning what he knows not of. Change is what conciliates hostile minds. Change is productive of reconciliation. It is productive of works meet for repentance. It brings good out of evil. It never opposes its wisdom. It never quarrels with itself. If wise, it never shuts its eyes to its own interest. It never writes, preaches, or publishes, what it disapproves. It never spurns counsel in its experiments. It is adventurous. Not so, with stupidity. Not so, with dullness. Not so, with indolence. What is change but adventure? What is the spirit world to the world below, but coming to where we adventure upon what is before unknown? What is wisdom but adventure? Change is wise when good. When change is wise, wisdom is obtained by adventure upon works which are wise, and wise because good. When mind seeks knowledge, it seeks to change itself, it seeks to disperse ignorance. It seeks what is more valuable. It seeks to remove what is valueless. It seeks what is called progress, change, wisdom, good, happiness. Progress is not in idleness, but in industry, effort, zeal, wisdom, and knowledge of the truth. He who seeks wisdom, seeks to progress, and he who progresses is wise—wise because he is made happier. He who is made happier is changed. He is what the change has made him.

 

Changes are not always productive of enjoyment. We see changes, wise and unwise. We see men change men. We see mind controlling mind. We see selfishness and ignorance controlling selfishness and ignorance. We see wars, contentions, murders, strife, wrangling, controversy, mind opposing mind, force opposing force, and all for what? What, but to become masters, victors over the subject—the vanquished! What, but to govern, and make others do their will—make others do what they would not do without compulsion? What, but to rule, and rule as interest and selfishness demand? We see wonders where changes occur. We see men mocking over wretchedness, to make that wretchedness more perfect. We see warriors changed from men of noble and sympathizing hearts to demons of madness. We see minds nurtured in the art of killing men, as beasts would never kill, in a land where Christianity is taught to old and young—in a land where Bibles and Testaments are not needed to show the enormity of the wrong—in a land where peace and plenty reign, but hunger and crime abound—in a land where the Lord's day is made vocal with songs of praise, but words of rule and words of war, words of friendship and words of contention, words of hope and words of fear, words of wisdom and words of folly, attend the wondering of God's people. We see men immolated, sacrificed, scourged, tortured, stolen, whipped, stoned, persecuted, imprisoned, scorned, taunted, reviled, and abused, all where Christianity, in all its enlightened wisdom, is preached; and professors unite in wonder, because the work of reform, of progress, moves so tardily, so sluggishly. We see men willing, yet opposing reform, praying for, yet condemning the means of progress, believing in, yet opposing the resurrection unto life. Does not mercy wonder? Where are the tears of the penitent? Where are the altars, where the sacrifices, where the humanity, courage, and independence, equal to change the condition of men? Ask? Look! Where? Oh, where will earth's weary sons and daughters find the needed wisdom? Where the wisdom that changes words of strife into words of peace; words of contention into words of mercy; words of bitterness into words of sweetness; words of cruelty into words of love; words of hate into words of reconciliation; words of wrong into words of right; words of falsehood into words of truth? Where will you go? To whom will you go? Jesus has been with you; he is with you; but you heed him not. His voice rings in your ears, as you open the dusty lids of his history; but the sound dies on the page which unfolds the brightness of the land where the pure in heart live forever. His voice is heard—heard only—but not obeyed. Where, oh where, will the weary find rest? The resurrection is come, but where are the children? The world of progress is open, but who walks in her footsteps? The world of change is at your calling; but who changes for better? Alas! Who glorifies God by doing good to his brother, who visits the sick with works of assistance, who opens his soul to the widow and the fatherless? These are questions which the resurrection must lay before the world of mind, as they are now open to the eye of God. They are questions of more importance to the soul, than the wisdom of selfishness—of more importance to the mind, than wealth, luxury, fame, honor, or all that earth affords. They are of more importance than all else besides—we say, than all else; for no mind can enjoy the world below, or the brighter world above, who is destitute of the qualities essential to true joy. No mind can enter the sphere of the blessed, the circle of holiness, without wisdom, without love, without works. Vain is the boast of empty profession, vain are the pretensions of profession, without change, without works—works which. Jesus approved—works which God will approve before the throne of his judgment.

 

Who, then, opposes change? He who continues in wrong. He who walks in ways he should not go. He who disowns the religion be professes to love. He who derides the truth, lest the truth should be evil spoken of. He who bargains wisdom for selfish gain, who enters not into the sanctuary but to please men, who worships only with lip service, who warns but takes no warning, who adores the idol of mistaken dreams of heaven, who pays his oblations to windy words and senseless customs, who welcomes the tidings of a resurrection unto life, but operates where no resurrection will save him— operates as a beast, burdened with a load he can not control; for such, change is required, change must be had, and change will be had, before they can be as happy as the happiest.