vii. 4, he said it seemed unreasonable to think that the Pharisees

immersed their tables and beds (for the word ‘_kleina_,’ rendered _tables_, may mean couches as well); and therefore he thought he ought to give the word some other meaning.

“To this I might have merely replied, the Word of God says the ‘kleina’ were immersed, and therefore it was done. I will not take the liberty to _change_ God’s word because it states improbabilities. But we were very accommodating, and reminded him that whatever was done to the tables, or ‘kleina,’ was the _same_ thing that was done to the ‘cups’ and other vessels, and then turned to Leviticus and showed that _they_ were ‘put into the water,’ and of course the ‘kleina’ were ‘put into the water,’ also. This, I am sure, was proof enough, without going to the Rabbi, to see _how_ it was done, and this was all Scripture proof. We went to the Rabbi only to ‘make assurance doubly sure.’ Then your uncle thought it more reasonable to believe that the Pharisees did something else instead of dipping themselves (as Mark says) when they came from the market.

“I might have answered as before—God says they _dipped_, and I will not dare to doubt it, though it be improbable.

“But as the text says, they did it ‘holding the tradition of the elders.’ I referred to the Jewish Rabbi merely to learn what the ‘tradition of the elders’ required on this point, and we found it was just what the word expressed.

“In the third place, your uncle had conceived that the _baptismois_ or washings spoken of in Hebrews ix. 10, could not be immersions, because some Doctor of Divinity had told him there were no immersions; and we went back to the Old Testament and found immersions in abundance—even without those rites which are called ‘washings;’ but even these were immersions also, as I have proved by the case of Naaman, and referred to the Rabbi as confirmatory evidence.”

“Very satisfactory, I declare,” said the Professor, laughing. “You see, Theo., Mr. Courtney fully appreciates the difficulties in the way of convincing your uncle.

“But let us see what he has to say about these other places which I have marked, and in which the word is used without translation, and refers directly to the ordinance itself. The first is Matthew iii. 5, 6, which reads of the baptism of the multitudes by John.”

“In regard to that,” said Mr. Courtney, “it will not be worth while to consume our time to-night—I will refer you to Miss Theodosia, who has examined it already. I will only say, that if you prefer ‘_washing_’ as your translation of the word, there could be no quicker way for John to _wash_ them than by dipping them in the water.”

“The next place I have marked,” said Uncle Jones, “is the 11th verse of the same chapter, ‘I indeed baptize you with water, but he that cometh after me shall baptize you with the Holy Ghost and with fire.’”

“I trust you find no difficulty there,” said Mr. Courtney.

“No,” replied the Professor, “except that it presents a strong argument in favor of immersion. The original certainly reads (if we translate as we would in any other book), I immerse you in water, and he shall immerse you in the Holy Ghost and in fire.

“The next is the 16th verse of the same chapter—‘And Jesus, when he was baptized, went up straightway out of the water.’ I find a strong argument for immersion in this also; for if they did not immerse, I see no reason for going into the water—or, if we read that he went up _from_, instead of out of, the water, I still see no reason for even going to it. We do not go to the river to sprinkle now—I can’t think they did then.

“The next place I have marked refers to the ‘much water’ of Ænon, near Salim; and I think no one can deny that John selected that place for the convenience of baptizing; and so far as it has any bearing on the case at all, it favors immersion. No other place presents any difficulty not already obviated, till we come to the baptism of the three thousand. Here seemed to be some doubtful circumstances, till I talked the subject over with my niece last night, but all is now quite plain; but there are some other instances recorded in the Acts, where immersion does not seem to have been so probable as sprinkling or pouring.”

“Please don’t speak any more about _probabilities_, Professor Jones,” exclaimed Mr. Courtney. “You admit that ‘_baptize_,’ the word used to describe this ordinance, means to immerse, as its common primary signification in every other book but this, and that the people who read the Greek language, would understand this to be its meaning in this, _unless some intimation was given_ that it must _not_ be so understood, or unless this meaning was morally impossible. And now you say it seems more probable that sprinkling sometimes occurred. Suppose it were more probable, does not Luke, by using this word _baptize_, declare that it was not sprinkling or pouring, but clearly and plainly a dipping? Will you dare to give the word a meaning that it never had before, and has not now, in any Greek book in the world, merely because you think it more probable that something else was done, instead of what Luke says was done? Show me a case where immersion was impossible, and it will have some weight.”

“No, no, Mr. Courtney, the New Testament meaning of the word is the very point in dispute. I shall not allow you to beg the question on the very position about which we are at issue.”

“I did not intend, nor do I desire to do any such thing. It is no begging of the question to object to your mode of settling it. This word was used hundreds of years before Luke wrote this book. Its meaning was as well fixed and defined as that of any word in the Greek language. Luke was writing to those who read, and spoke, and understood this language (and this word among the rest) in its ordinary sense, according to the familiar every-day usage of the people who employed it.

“We agree, and no critic or scholar of any note has ever denied, that the common, familiar meaning of this word was to immerse, submerge, to dip. This we have proved. But now we want to know in what sense Luke employs it. I answer, that the presumption is, that he employs it just as every other writer does; for if he does not, nobody will understand what he means. He must use words in the sense that other people use them, or other people will not know what he means; but as he wishes to be understood, and writes under the inspiration of infinite wisdom, he will use words thus. If this word, therefore, commonly and familiarly meant to immerse, then it was immersion that he meant when he used the word. To this you reply, that in some cases it _seems more probable_ that something else was done, and not the act which this word describes; and you will therefore make it mean just what you think is most likely to have taken place. I object to this mode of deciding the meaning of a New Testament word. If we decide according to this rule, I can show you that Lazarus was never raised from the dead; for it is to me much more likely that he was only _asleep_, or in a sort of _trance_—and when Jesus called him with a loud voice, it only awakened him. You tell me, however, that the Scripture plainly declares, again and again, that he _was dead_, and that Christ _raised_ him from the _dead_. But I have only to assure you that, though the word rendered dead does mean dead—destitute of life—in every other book, and in almost every other place in this book, yet in this particular place it is much _more probable_ that it means asleep, or in a trance; and, therefore, dead cannot mean destitute of life. If I am at liberty to trifle in this way with any words of the Sacred Record, it ceases to mean any thing but what I, or you, or any other man may fancy it ought to mean. Every man may make it mean just what he pleases. But pardon me for talking so long—I did not intend it when I began. Go on with your references, and I will show you that there is not even a _probability_ that it was any thing else but immersion that was performed in any single case.”

“I was,” said Uncle Jones, “just about to mention the case of Paul, who was baptized ‘standing up,’ and of course, it could not be by immersion, Acts ix.: ‘And Ananias went his way and entered into the house, and putting his hand upon him, said, Brother Saul, the Lord, even Jesus, who appeared unto thee in the way as thou camest, hath sent me that thou mightest receive thy sight, and be filled with the Holy Ghost. And immediately there fell from his eyes, as it had been scales, and he received sight forthwith, and _arose and was baptized_.’ Now the Greek word ‘_anastas_’ here rendered _arose_, might very properly be rendered standing up; and if so, he must have been baptized standing.”

“That, _if so_, Professor, is a very convenient phrase. Let us see how it will work in other places. We read in the Old Testament that ‘David arose and fled for fear of Saul.’ The same word occurs here. It may mean ‘standing up;’ and, _if so_, then David _fled standing_. So, also, in this passage, ‘Saul rose up out of the cave and went.’ It may mean ‘_standing_;’ and, _if so_, then Saul went _standing_ out of the cave. And in this, ‘Saul _arose_ and got him from Gilgal.’ It may mean ‘standing;’ and, _if so_, then Saul went up from Gilgal ‘standing.’”

“Yes,” said Theodosia, “and when Ananias and Sapphira died that fearful death, the young men were _standing still_ all the while they were winding up the body, carrying him away, and burying him; for it reads, ‘The young men arose, wound him up, carried him out, and buried him.’ (Acts v. 6.) Is it not the same word that is used in the original?”

“The very same, Miss Ernest—and so it is where the prodigal son says I will arise and go to my father—yet he does not mean to say that he will go ‘standing up.’ If you will be kind enough to get Barnes’ Notes, you will find a very true and apposite explanation of this word. ‘He _arose_ and went to his father.’ ‘The word _arose_,’ says Barnes, ‘does not imply that he had been _sitting_. It does not refer to any change of position, but expresses the act of _setting out_, or _beginning_ to do any thing. It was a common expression among the Hebrews to denote _entering upon_ a piece of business.’ Now, if Luke had said, he _sat still_ and was baptized, it might have made some difficulty; but if he rose up, or prepared himself, he would do this equally, whether he was sprinkled or immersed. Immersion is quite as probable, so far as this word is concerned, as sprinkling, or any thing else.”

“I must acknowledge that you are right,” said Uncle Jones, “and you have convinced me so often that I am almost ashamed to mention another difficulty which has been suggested—and that is, that there is nothing said about a change of garment, or of their going out of the house; and then Saul was so feeble that it would seem almost cruel to make him walk half a mile to the river, before he even partook of any food. I judge, therefore, that the rite must have been performed in the house, and _if so_, it could not be immersion.”

“There is your ‘_if so_’ again. But suppose it was done in the house, are you sure that there was not a bathing-tub, or a tank, or some other means of immersion in the house? There is surely no evidence that there was not. How do you know that it was half a mile to the river? How do you know that there was not a fountain in the yard? Most rich men’s houses in the East are provided with them. You simply read that he ‘was baptized,’ and every Greek reader would understand this to mean that he was immersed. If you should come down next Sunday to the Baptist church, and apply for membership, and be received and baptized—I would, as clerk of the church, record the facts—I would write that you came, made credible profession of faith in Christ, gave satisfactory evidence of genuine conversion, was received and _baptized_. I need not record that you put on suitable clothing—that you went to the river, or to the pool, or to the baptizing. Everybody would know that you were immersed, if I simply said you were ‘baptized.’”

“Well, well, I see I have been making ‘mountains out of mole hills,’ but really the Doctors of Divinity, as you so kindly suggested a while ago, have much of the blame to bear. I am almost ashamed to go on with my catalogue of difficulties, lest I provoke both you and Theodosia to laugh at me for my simplicity.”

“Far from it, my dear sir. It is not long since I stood just where you are standing now. I know from sad experience with how much difficulty the light of truth makes its way through the mists and fogs by which one’s early education has surrounded him; and how slowly it dispels the clouds and darkness of long-established prejudices. It is rare indeed to find any one educated as you were, and accustomed as you have been from childhood, to think that whoever might be wrong, the Presbyterians _must_ be right, yet exhibiting the candor to acknowledge error, and the conscience to repudiate it so soon as it shall be clearly seen. I hope you will not refrain from expressing even the shadow of a doubt, if it keeps your mind from seeing clearly the way of Christian duty as required in God’s Word. What was the next ease on your memorandum?”

“It was that of Cornelius and his friends. Peter says, who shall ‘forbid water?’ And it seemed to me more natural for him to use this expression, if the water was to be brought to sprinkle them, than if they were to be taken to the water to be dipped in it.”

“But,” replied Mr. Courtney, “Peter does not say the water _was to be brought_. He only says, who will forbid water (that is to be used in the baptizing of these people)? It was simply equivalent to saying, who will forbid their baptism? But the water might have been brought to _immerse_ them. What would hinder it? I was present once when a Baptist minister said to the sexton of the church, ‘Let water be brought for the baptism of six persons this evening’—would you deny that those six persons were to be _immersed_? In recording the event, I might have said, the water was brought, and they were baptized—for they were actually immersed in a tank prepared for the purpose under the floor of the church. Now, if one of the deacons had exclaimed, I forbid the water to be brought for the baptism of these candidates, you must (had you been present and reasoned as you do upon this passage) have concluded that it was sprinkling, and not immersion at all, which was spoken of.”

“I am satisfied, Mr. Courtney, and do not see any thing in my next case (which was that of Lydia and her household) that has not already been disposed of. I was going to object that there was nothing said about change of apparel and going to or coming from the water—but I acknowledge that when I read in a Baptist paper that forty converts were baptized one Sabbath morning, I do not doubt they were immersed, and yet I never see a word said about the clothing they wore, and often nothing about the place where the rite was performed. So I will pass to the jailor’s baptism, Acts xvi. 33. The only difficulty here is, that as he was baptized _in the jail_, it is very improbable that it was by immersion, since it is not likely there was any convenience for an immersion in an eastern prison.”

“Suppose, Professor Jones, that you should read in a newspaper that ‘The poor wretch who was last week sentenced to death for the murder of old Mr. Gripall, had made a profession of religion, and had been baptized by Elder J. R. Graves, the editor of the _Tennessee Baptist_,’ would you imagine that Mr. Graves had _sprinkled_ him? Not for one moment; you could easily believe that the water was brought, and the immersion was done, in the murderer’s cell, even though not a word was said about the bringing it. As the jailor was master of the prison, could he not have water brought, had it been needful?

“But the truth is, the baptism was not done in the jail. Read the passage carefully He sprang into the prison, and he brought the Apostles out of it (30th verse). Some say he only brought them _out_ of the _inner prison_. I say he brought them out of that, and into his own house, for (32d verse) they spoke the word of the Lord to all that were in his house. He took them into his family apartments, and there they preached the Word.

“And then (verse 33d) he took them somewhere else, where he washed their stripes and was himself baptized; and then (34th verse) he brought them back into his house, and set meat before them. You see, therefore, that it was not done in prison, though if it had been, it would have been no proof that it was not immersion.”

“I wonder,” said Mr. Jones, “that I had never seen the case in this light before. Now, since I have observed it carefully, it is all very plain; and I have found no other instance where the word occurs in its _literal_ sense, and which presents any difficulties which have not been already considered.

“There is, indeed, the case of the Eunuch, who was baptized by Philip, but the narrative, in all the details of it, absolutely requires immersion to preserve the consistency and probability of the story. They went down into the water, and not the one, but both of them went into the water. Then Philip immersed him, and then they came up out of the water. I wonder that any Greek scholar should ever have doubted that they went into and came out of the water; for, if this is not what is said, it is because the Greek language could not express it. In any other book, no scholar would hesitate a moment thus to translate the passage. What is here said to be done, I must concede is precisely what Baptists are accustomed to do. And, but for one thing, I am convinced that _immersion is the only baptism_.”

“And what is that, pray?”

“Simply that I find baptism spoken of _figuratively_ or _metaphorically_ in such a way as to lead me to suspect it must be something else. Indeed, in Acts ii. 17, it is almost expressly said to be a pouring.”

“No, Professor, baptism is _not_ here said to be pouring, nor is pouring said to be baptism, though Doctors of Divinity have ventured such assertions.

“Christ did tell the disciples that they would be immersed in the Holy Ghost—and Peter did speak of the Holy Spirit as being poured out—but neither of them said that this pouring was the immersion. It might as well have been any other of the wonderful things that happened that day, which could in any respect be compared to an immersion.

“But before we go further, let me say one word as to the value of figurative usage in determining the meaning of this or any other word.

“Common sense teaches us that the figurative and fanciful must yield to the real and actual. When, therefore, we have settled the meaning of a word by its real, literal, every-day usage, we cannot unsettle it by a figure of speech—a chance allusion or comparison. The fanciful must be governed by the actual. This is self-evident. Now, we have seen and settled that the literal meaning of this word is to _immerse_. And henceforth, whenever and wherever we find it _figuratively_ employed, the allusion must be in some way or other to immersion or some circumstance attending immersion. On this alone will its beauty and appropriateness as a figure depend.

“Now, remembering this, let us examine the case in hand. The allusion cannot be to ‘the pouring,’ which itself is but a figure—for no literal and actual pouring of the third person of the Trinity _could_ occur. The allusion was not to the manner of the Spirit’s coming, but to the copiousness, abundance, and overwhelming nature of his influences; filling, overflowing, surrounding, and, as it were, swallowing up their souls. The Greeks often used the word baptized in this way; as baptized in debt, baptized in affliction, baptized in wine (that is, overcome of wine), baptized in iniquity, or as we would express it, _sunk_ in iniquity. We use the word immerse in the same way, when we say of one that he is immersed in dissipation; immersed in business; immersed in politics, and the like; we simply mean by such expressions that the dissipation, business, or polities, controls and occupies all the powers and capacities of the man. We do not mean to say that they were _poured_ on him, or _sprinkled_ on him, but only that they exert an overwhelming influence over him. And just in this sense he told the disciples they should be immersed in the Holy Ghost.”

“I thank you, Mr. Courtney, for that lucid exposition. I can hardly understand how the matter came to be so mystified in my mind as it has been till now. I will trouble you with but one other case, and that is where the Israelites are said (1 Cor. x. 2) to have been ‘all baptized unto Moses in the cloud and in the sea.’ If this was an immersion, you must admit that it was a very dry one, for the Scripture says expressly they went through on dry ground.”

“Certainly, I will admit that it was a dry immersion, for it was a _figurative_, and not a real one. The baptism of the Holy Spirit, which we were just speaking of, was a dry immersion. The baptism in sufferings, which Jesus spoke of so touchingly to James and John, was a dry immersion. The figure in either case was not in the wetting, but in the overwhelming abundance of the Spirit in one, and of sorrow in the other. The allusion in this case is not so much to the _act_, as to one of the attendant circumstances. They did indeed go down into the sea, as one goes down into the water to be baptized. The water stood on each side of them and the cloud covered them—so that they might very appropriately and beautifully be said, in a figure, to be _immersed_ in the cloud and the sea. But the chief allusion is to another and altogether different circumstance. As the Christian, by going down into the baptismal water, professes his belief in Christ, and takes upon himself a solemn obligation of obedience to the laws of Christ. So the Jews, Paul says, by going down into the sea, and walking beneath the cloud, professed their faith in Moses, and took upon them obligations of obedience to him. They were thus ‘baptized unto Moses.’ The main allusion is not to the act, but to the obligation of the ordinance. Would the figure be any more beautiful, or any more appropriate, if we should say that they were all sprinkled into Moses, or were all poured into Moses?

“Professor Stuart, on this passage, says: ‘The suggestion has sometimes been made that the Israelites were _sprinkled_ by the cloud and by the sea, and that _this_ was the baptism which Paul meant; but the cloud was not a rain cloud, nor do we find any _intimation_ that the waters of the Red Sea sprinkled the children of Israel at that time.’”

“It seems to me,” said Theodosia, “that the idea of rain is absolutely precluded; for if it had rained upon them to any extent, the ground would have been _wet_, but it says expressly they went through on _dry ground_.”

“That would seem to set the matter at rest, Theo., if it were not that the Psalmist, evidently speaking of this very occasion (Psa. lxxvii. 17, 18), says expressly, ‘The clouds poured out water, the skies sent out a sound, thine arrows also went abroad; the voice of thy thunder was in the heaven, the lightnings lightened the world, the earth trembled and shook.’”

“But the Psalmist does not say, uncle, that these terrible manifestations of Almighty power were directed against the _Jews_—_they_ went over dry shod. To _them_ all was light and peace. But the cloud went and stood _behind_ them, and troubled their enemies, the Egyptians. The thunder, and the lightning, and the great storm of rain were upon _them_, while the Israelites were passing on dry ground.”

“Well, Theodosia, I give it up. I have no longer any ground to stand upon; and I may as well admit at once, that _immersion is the only act which is anywhere in the Bible called a Baptism_. I have, I think, now examined every place that could throw any light upon the subject; and really I can’t find even a probability of any other meaning of the word in _any_ case, while in many this meaning is established by most overwhelming proof.”

“No, Professor, there is one place you seem to have overlooked, which is exceedingly significant; that is Romans, 6th chapter, where we are said to be _buried with Christ in our baptism_. Here the allusion is most evidently not to any attending circumstance, but to the act itself. We are buried in the water like one who is dead, and raised out of it again like one resurrected. So, we are to consider ourselves as having died to sin, and as having been brought to life again by Christ; but not to the same life of sin which we led before, but to ‘_newness of life_’—or a new life—a life of holiness and obedience. That the allusion here is to the act of immersion is so evident that none but the most determined and unreasonable cavilers pretend to deny it. I do not know of any single commentator, whose opinions are entitled to any respect, who has ventured to differ in regard to this point from Luther, and Calvin, and Doddridge, and McKnight, and Chalmers—who all agree that the allusion is to the ancient form of baptism by immersion, or, as McKnight expresses it, to the ordinance in which Christ submitted to be baptized—that is, to be buried under the water, and taken out again by John,” etc. (See notes on this place.)

“I see,” said Uncle Jones. “The Scriptures do not even leave ‘a loop to hang a doubt upon.’ The common and every-day use of the word requires immersion—the scriptural, and especially the New Testament usage of the word, requires immersion—the places where the baptisms were performed required immersion, for why else would they go into the water?—and even the figures and metaphors drawn from the ordinance demand immersion. What shall we say then? Must we not be immersed?”

“I can only answer for myself, uncle. If it was immersion which Jesus Christ, my Saviour, submitted to in Jordan, and which he commanded all his disciples to teach and to practice, I cannot hesitate about whether I will obey my Saviour—I shall be immersed the first convenient opportunity.”

“I cannot yet speak so confidently,” rejoined her uncle. “It may be, something will yet turn up to show the matter in some other light. I must take more time to consider, and this reminds me that we have not yet examined the history of the ordinance to see whether it is true in fact that sprinkling has been substituted for immersion, or whether, after all, it was not immersion that was substituted for sprinkling. I am under the impression that these Baptists are the same sect that sprung up about the time of Luther and the Reformation—sometimes called Anabaptists, but more frequently the Mad Men of Munster. I grant I have not investigated the subject very carefully, but I am certain I have somewhere seen or heard their origin in Europe traced back to that occasion, and in this country I have been told they owe their beginning to Roger Williams, who was not properly baptized himself, and consequently could not give valid baptism to any one else. Am I not right in these conjectures, Mr. Courtney?”

Mr. Courtney did not reply until after he had taken out his watch and observed the time of night. “It is too late,” said he, “to answer that question and others which will be suggested by it, to-night. Suppose we postpone the further consideration of the subject till another time.”

“Very well,” said Theodosia, who felt that she had sufficient food for one day’s reflection in what had already passed. “Come round, both of you, to-morrow night. Come early and take supper with us; and meantime, Mr. Courtney, you may leave this great armful of old books. May be, I will indulge my womanly curiosity by reading their titles. I don’t believe I have much relish for their contents, unless they should be vastly more attractive than their external appearance indicates. Why, some of them look as though they might be a hundred and one years old.”

“Old documents are sometimes very valuable,” said he, “especially in such a discussion as we are to have to-morrow night. You will be more interested in them than you imagine.”

THE SIXTH NIGHT’S STUDY.

In which the question, how Christ’s ordinance was changed, and pouring first, and then sprinkling, substituted in place of immersion, is fully examined, and truthfully answered, by the sprinklers themselves.

Sixth Night’s Study.

The interest which so learned and excellent a Presbyterian as Uncle Jones had exhibited in the study of Baptism, together with affection for her lovely daughter, had so far removed Mrs. Ernest’s objections to this investigation, that she had resolved herself to be present, and take some quiet part in the conversation, upon the introduction of sprinkling. Uncle Jones she knew was a sincere and pious man. He was also a man of good sense, sound judgment, and of very extensive information. And (more than all to her) he was a _Ruling Elder_ in the Presbyterian Church. If, therefore, Uncle Jones had ventured to _doubt_ about _his_ baptism, she began to think her daughter could not have committed any very _deadly_ sin in doubting about hers. And, as Uncle Jones had spoken very highly of the logical acumen and historical information of Mr. Courtney, she could not see why she should not treat him with such courtesy as was due to an intelligent gentleman, even though he was a poor Baptist schoolmaster. As for his prejudices, which had led him to speak so disrespectfully of the Doctors of Divinity and eminent ministers of “our church”—he had probably received them in his childhood, for she had no doubt he had been reared among the ignorant and bigoted Baptists, who never knew any better, and from whom nothing better could be expected.

When Mr. Courtney came in, therefore, she was the first to welcome him, and express her pleasure that he had come so early. She exerted herself to entertain him till Theodosia came in, and then went to prepare a nice dish which had just come into her mind for supper. It was not long till the Professor came also; but not a word was said about the object of their meeting till after the table was removed—when Mr. Courtney introduced it by saying:

“If I did not misunderstand you, Professor Jones, you expressed some doubt last evening whether immersion was not first introduced as baptism by the Mad Men of Munster during the Reformation of Luther; and whether the Baptists of the United States did not receive baptism from Roger Williams, who was himself not properly baptized, and therefore could not legally baptize others.”

“This is my impression, sir. I do not know exactly how I received it—perhaps I got something of it from reading D’Aubigne’s History of the Reformation—perhaps I received it by hearing something of the kind from the pulpit. I am certain that I have seen or heard it somewhere, and that I thought at the time I had good authority for believing it—otherwise, I should not have given it a place in my memory.”

“I have,” replied Mr. Courtney, “seen and heard such statements many times from various sources. They are often recorded in Presbyterian and Methodist newspapers. They form a part of every controversy on the subject of baptism; and you may hear them almost as often as you hear a sermon or listen to a discussion on this subject. It was consequently very easy for you to receive and retain such impressions.”

“And yet I suppose you will assure me that I am altogether mistaken, and have been grossly deceived.”

“No, Professor Jones, _I will not assure you_. I do not like that mode of discussion. I will _prove_ to you: (if you will receive the testimony of the _most reliable historians_, or that of the most eminent of _your own writers_ on this subject); I will prove to you beyond all possibility of doubt that those who make such statements are either most grossly ignorant or most perversely false.”

“I hope, Mr. Courtney, you don’t mean to say that _our ministers_ preach falsehood, or that _our religious_ editors make statements that are not true?” said Mrs. Ernest, who already felt her blood begin to boil.

“No, no, sister,” said Uncle Jones, who knew her mood. “Mr. Courtney only means to say that our ministers and editors _are mistaken_, and that he can prove that they have made statements without having first carefully examined _all_ the evidence.”

“Pardon me, madam,” said Mr. Courtney, “I did not intend to use any language which would give offence to any one present, and most especially to you. I was myself for many years a Presbyterian. I know the ministers of that order too well to doubt that, as a body, they are in knowledge and piety equal to any in the world. There are among them many who are now my warmest personal friends—men whom I love as Christian brethren—men whom I admire as great and valiant soldiers of the cross—men who love Jesus, and are devoting their lives to his work, and are doing great good in the world. And yet there are among them men who, upon this subject, rashly venture to make assertions which most clearly and directly contradict all historical testimony, and which, if there is any _truth_ in history, must be admitted to be false.”

“How can that be possible?” asked Theodosia. “How can a good man _dare_ to say what is not _strictly true_?”

“I do not doubt, Miss Ernest, that most of them really _believe_ what they assert. They are themselves deceived. They have been trained and educated in error. They have trusted to the assertions of others, who had an interest in deceiving them. They get impressions, just as your uncle did, from books, or papers, or lectures, or sermons, in which such statements are made. They take it for granted they are true—and so repeat them to others—and extend and perpetuate the falsehood, which would at once be evident, if they would go behind these statements and examine the _historical records for themselves_.

“It is, in part, for this reason, that I do not ask you to take _my word_ for any fact to which I may request your attention. Nor will I ask you to receive the testimony of any _Baptist_ historian; you shall have the record to read for yourselves, and that record made _in every instance_ by an opposer of our poor and despised denomination. I will prove to you, first, that the Baptists in Europe did not originate at the time of the Reformation, but had existed from the very foundation of Christianity; and then I will show you that the Baptists in the United States do not owe their origin to Roger Williams, any more than they do to Lord Baltimore or Cotton Mather; and that the validity of their ordinance stands on much safer ground, in point of regular succession from the Apostles, than that of any of the Pedobaptist sects.”

“That is right, Mr. Courtney,” said Uncle Jones; “let us have one thing at a time. Bring up your witnesses.”

“Well, I have them ready. But first, let us understand distinctly the point on which we are at issue. You understand that the Baptist denomination sprang up as a new thing about the time of the Lutheran Reformation, and owes its origin to those who were then called ‘Anabaptists, or the Mad Men of Munster?’”

“Yes; that was my impression.”

“Very well. Now I will show you that this is so far from being true, that there has been, from the _very earliest ages_ of Christianity up to the present time, a body of professing Christians who have always held, as we do now, that baptism is not valid unless it be preceded by instruction and _faith in Christ_; and, consequently, that the _baptism of infants is no baptism at all_.

“I grant that this _body of Christian people_ has not always been _called_ Baptists; but as they possessed the distinguishing characteristics of the Baptists, it cannot be denied that they _were_ Baptists.”

“No,” said Uncle Jones, “if they were professing Christians, and gave evidence of the new birth, baptized only by immersion, and refused to baptize infants, or recognize such baptism as valid, they were doubtless Baptists, by whatever name they chanced to be called.”

“Then we are ready to proceed with the case. The first witness I will call is the celebrated ecclesiastical historian, John Lawrence Mosheim, Chancellor of the University of Gottingen. He was, of course, _no Baptist_, or he could not have held such a position. His history was originally written in Latin, but has been translated into English by Dr. McLaine, of England, and Dr. Murdock, in America. This learned and reliable historian says: ‘The sacrament of baptism was administered, in this (the first) century, without the public assemblies, in places appointed and prepared for that purpose, and was performed by an _immersion of the whole body_ in the baptismal font.’

“Of the second century, he says: ‘The persons that were to be baptized, after they had repeated the creed, confessed and renounced their sins, and particularly the devil and his pompous allurements, were _immersed under water_, and received into Christ’s kingdom.’ No sprinkling, and no infants, you see, thus far. They were such as could profess their faith, and they were ‘immersed under the water.’ _McLaine’s Mosheim_, vol. p. 46⁠–⁠69.

“As a witness of somewhat similar character, I will now introduce the Pedobaptist Neander, whose ‘Church History’ and his ‘Planting and Training of the Christian Church,’ have given his name a world-wide celebrity.

“This eminent and reliable historian, in a letter to Mr. Judd, says, expressly, ‘The practice of immersion was beyond doubt prevalent in the _whole church_. The only exception was made with the _sick_—hence called _baptisma clinicorum_.’

“And in ‘Planting and Training of the Christian Church,’ he says: ‘The unusual form of submersion at baptism practiced by the Jews, was transferred to the Gentile Christians. Indeed, this form was most suitable to signify that which Christ intended to render an object of contemplation by such a symbol, viz.: the immersion of the whole man in the spirit of a new life.’

“So also says Coleman, another noted Pedobaptist author, the friend and exponent of Neander, who is regarded as high authority by the opponents of the Baptists, and who takes frequent occasion to express his aversion to their faith and practice—yet a regard for the obvious truth compels him to say, page 372, ‘Ancient Christianity Exemplified.’ ‘The term baptism is derived from the Greek word _Bapto_, from which term is formed _Baptizo_, with its derivatives _Baptismos_ and _Baptisma_—baptism. The primary signification of the original is to dip, to plunge, immerse. The obvious import of the noun is immersion.’

“Yet, in another place, he _affects_ to regard immersion as a departure from the apostolic usage:

“‘We cannot resist the conclusion,’ he says, ‘that this mode of baptism was the first departure from the teaching and example of the Apostles on this subject.’ ‘_If it was_ a departure from their teachings, it was the _earliest_—for baptism by immersion, unquestionably, was _very early_ the common mode of baptism.’

“Again, page 396, he says: ‘In the Primitive Church, immediately subsequent to the age of the Apostles, this [immersion] was undeniably the common mode of baptism. (The utmost that can be said of sprinkling in that early period is, that it was in case of necessity _permitted_ as an exception to a general rule). This fact is so well established that it were needless to adduce authorities in proof of it.… It is a great mistake to suppose that baptism by immersion was discontinued when infant baptism became generally prevalent. The practice of immersion continued even to the thirteenth or fourteenth century. Indeed it has _never_ been formally abandoned, but is still the mode of administering infant baptism in the Greek Church, and in several of the Eastern Churches.’

“Here, also, is another Pedobaptist historian, Dr. Philip Schaff, Professor in a Pedobaptist Theological Seminary at Mercersburg, Pennsylvania. In his ‘History of the Apostolic Church,’ page 568, he says: ‘Immersion, and not sprinkling, was unquestionably the original normal form [of baptism]. This is shown by the very meaning of the Greek words _Baptizo_, _Baptisma_, and _Baptismos_—used to designate the rite. Then again, by the analogy of the baptism of John, which was performed in the Jordan [“_en_”], Matt. iii. 6, compare with 16; also, _eis ton Jordanan_ [into the Jordan], Mark i. 9; furthermore, by the New Testament _comparisons_ of baptism with the passage through the Red Sea, 1 Cor x. 2; with the _flood_, 1 Peter ii. 21; with a _bath_, Eph. v. 36; Titus iii 5; with a _burial and resurrection_, Rom. vi. 4; Col. ii. 12; and, finally, by the general usage of Ecclesiastical antiquity, which was _always_ immersion, as it is to this day in the Oriental, and also in the Græco Russian Churches, pouring and sprinkling being substituted only in cases of urgent necessity, such as sickness and approaching death.’”

“Are you _sure_, Mr. Courtney, that these learned historians were not Baptists?”

“Most certainly I am. Their church connections are as well known almost as their histories. But even if they _had_ been Baptists, I do not see how that would invalidate their testimony. I hope you do not think that Baptists cannot tell the truth as well as other people?”

“Oh, no, Mr. Courtney, forgive me—1 did not mean that; but it seems to me so _very strange_ that good men can say such things in their writings, and yet act as though they did not believe a single word of what they say. But perhaps the _first_ historians of the church, from whom these men have borrowed their statements, were Baptists.”

“Yes, Miss Ernest, the first historians and earliest writers on the customs and practices of the Apostolic Churches _were_ Baptists. And it is to them we are really indebted for _all_ our knowledge of the earliest ages. Matthew, and Mark, and Luke, and John, were Baptists—or else they might never have told us about those baptisms in the river. Baptists tell about such things now. Paul was a Baptist, or he would never have compared baptism to a burial and resurrection. Peter was a Baptist, or he would never have compared it to the flood. All those New Testament saints were Baptists, as we have seen in our examination of the meaning of the _word_ baptize. The very word made them Baptists. They could not be any thing else; and, after their day, the _Fathers_ (as they are called), that is, the earliest writers among the Christians, whose works have come down to us, were all Baptists. It was near three hundred years before there were any professed Christians who were _not Baptists_.”

“On what authority do you venture such an assertion?” asked Uncle Jones.

“I might say,” replied the schoolmaster, “that I make it on the authority of your own most eminent and most reliable historians. I have it over the signatures of Roman Catholic, Episcopalian, Lutheran, Dutch Reformed, and Presbyterian writers, who, while they have been in full connection with those very establishments, all of which have (when they could) been the most virulent and cruel _persecutors_ of the Baptists, and some of which are _even now_ subjecting our brethren in Europe to fines and imprisonment, and confiscation of property, because they will not conform to the corrupt and corrupting superstitions which have been substituted by Popish authority for the ordinances of Christ—have nevertheless openly, plainly, and repeatedly declared, as historians, that the apostolic churches were, in their membership, ordinances, organization, and government, just such as the Baptist churches are now. I say, I might give this authority; but I will refer you to the same source from which they, as historians, derived their information. I say the Christian Fathers, for the first three centuries, were Baptists, because these Fathers say so themselves.

“_Justin Martyr_, who is counted among the earliest of the Fathers, writing to the Emperor, and giving him an account of the churches in his day, about one hundred and fifty years after Christ, says: ‘I shall now lay before you the manner of dedicating ourselves to God through Christ upon our conversion; for, should I omit this, I might not seem to deal sincerely in this account of our religion. As many as are persuaded and believe that those things which are taught by us are true, and do promise to live according to them, are directed, first, to pray, and ask God, with fasting, the forgiveness of their sins. And we also pray and fast together with them. _Then we bring them to a place where there is water_, and they are regenerated in the same way that we are regenerated, for they are washed in the name of the Father,’ etc.

“_Tertullian_, who lived somewhat later, says: ‘When we are ready to enter into the water (and even before), we make our protestations before the minister and in the church, that we renounce the devil and all his pomps and vanities—afterward, we are _plunged_ in the water.’

“And again, ‘Those who are desirous to dip themselves holily in this water, must prepare themselves for it by fasting, by watchings, by prayer, and by sincere repentance for sin.’

“But it is needless to multiply authorities. It is the united testimony of _all_ the Fathers who speak of the subject at all, that baptism was in these early ages performed only by immersion, except of necessity in the near prospect of death. And those who, under such circumstances, received pouring as a _substitute_, were never said to have been baptized, but to have been _poured_ upon as a _substitute_ for baptism.

“How any man, who has any character to lose, can in the face of all this testimony venture the assertion that sprinkling was practiced in the early churches, and that immersion is a modern invention introduced by the Mad Men of Munster, is more than I can comprehend,” said Mr. Courtney. “Merle D’Aubigne, the Historian of the Reformation, the very man to whom the Munster Men are indebted for most of their present notoriety—D’Aubigne does not venture any such assertion. On one point, he says, ‘It seems necessary to guard against misapprehension. Some persons imagine that the Anabaptists of the time of the Reformation, and the Baptists of our day, are the same. But they are as different as possible.… It is but justice to observe that the Baptists of Holland, England, and the United States (says Fessenden, as quoted by D’Aubigne), are essentially distinct from those seditious and fanatical individuals above-mentioned, as they profess an equal aversion to the principles of the rebellion of the one, and the enthusiasm of the other.’—Pref. to Hist. of Ref, p. 10. But I find I am summing up on the case before I have introduced all the evidence. I have referred to historians; I wish now to call your attention to the testimony of several of the most eminent and learned _theological_ authors—writing, not as historians, but as theological disputants.

“I will first introduce Professor Moses Stuart, Who was a citizen of our own country, and an eminent professor in one of your own theological seminaries.

“Here is his book. It was written in answer to the question addressed to him by missionaries in a foreign land, inquiring in what way they should translate the Greek words which in our version read _baptize_ and _baptism_. It was evidently written with great care, and not without much previous study of the subject.

“After referring to a number of eminent and reliable historians in regard to the practice of the early church, he thus concludes: ‘But enough—it is a thing made out,’ says Augusti, viz.:—the ancient practice of immersion. So, indeed, all the writers who have thoroughly investigated this subject conclude.

“‘I know of no one usage of ancient times,’ continues Mr. Stuart, ‘which seems to be more clearly and more certainly made out. _I cannot see how it is possible for any candid man who examines the subject to deny this._’

“‘In what manner then,’ he asks (p. 362), ‘did the churches of Christ from a very early period (to say the least), understand the word _baptizo_ in the New Testament? Plainly they construed it as meaning immersion.’

“‘We are left in no doubt,’ he says again, ‘about the generally received usage of the Christian church down to a period several centuries after the apostolic age.’

“Can any testimony be more explicit, or more satisfactory than this?

“But even Dr. Miller himself, the great champion of Presbyterianism, on this subject declares, ‘That it is not denied that for the first few centuries after Christ, the most common mode of administering baptism was by immersion.’”

“Oh, that is enough, Mr. Courtney,” said the young lady. “After such declarations by the most eminent historians, and our own theological professors, I am sure neither Uncle Jones nor any one else can entertain a shadow of a doubt. We will admit that the practice of the first church was immersion. I was satisfied of that from the Scripture itself, since this was the meaning of the word, and consequently it was immersion that Christ commanded. What I desire to know is, how the _change_ was brought about, and sprinkling introduced.”

“All in good time, Miss Ernest, we will come to that presently. Have a little patience. These theological discussions are very tricky affairs. I want to set this point so far beyond all doubt or disputation that no one will dare again to intimate that the Baptists originated in the time of Martin Luther.

“Here is what Martin Luther says about it himself. No Protestant will doubt that he is a competent witness. ‘The word _baptize_ is a Greek word. It may be rendered immersion, _as when we plunge something in water that it may be entirely covered with water_—and though that custom is _now abolished_ among the generality (for even children are not entirely immersed, but only have a little water poured on them), nevertheless they ought to be completely immersed, and immediately drawn out, for the etymology of the word requires it.’

“Here also is what John Calvin, the very father and founder of the Presbyterian denomination, says: ‘From these words (John iii. 23), it may be inferred that baptism was administered by John and Christ by plunging the whole body under the water. Here we perceive how baptism was administered _among the ancients, for they immersed the whole body in water_.’

“Here is also Dr. Whitby, a very learned and eminent divine of the Church of England: ‘Immersion,’ says he, ‘was religiously observed by all Christians for THIRTEEN CENTURIES, and was approved by the Church of England. And,’ he continues, ‘since the change of it into sprinkling was made without any allowance from the AUTHOR of the institution, or any license from any Council of the Church [of England], being that which the Romanist still urgeth to justify his refusal of the cup to the laity: it were to be wished that this custom [immersion] might be again of general use.’

“This musty looking old volume is ‘The History of the Bible, by Thomas Stackhouse, Vicar of Beenham, in England,’ a celebrated Episcopal clergyman. He says: ‘We nowhere read in Scripture of any one’s being baptized but by immersion—and several authors have proved; from the acts of councils and ancient rituals, that this manner of immersion continued as much as possible to be used for thirteen hundred years after Christ.’

“The celebrated Prelate, Bishop Taylor, of the English Church, Vice-Chancellor of the University of Dublin, says in his famous work called ‘Ductor Dubitantium:’ ‘The custom of the Ancient Churches was not sprinkling, but immersion, in pursuance of the meaning of the word baptize in the commandment, and the example of our blessed Saviour.’

“Here also is what that earnest-hearted man, Richard Baxter (the author of the ‘Call to the Unconverted’ and the ‘Saints’ Rest’), says: ‘It is commonly confessed by us to the Anabaptists, as our commentators declare, that in the Apostles’ times the baptized were dipped over head in water.’”

“Oh, please, Mr. Courtney, don’t read us any more such testimony. Any one who would not be convinced by what you have given us, would not believe if you should give us ten times more. Do you pray go on, and show how, and where, and by what authority Christ’s ordinance was changed.”

“No, no, Mr. Courtney—I want to hear all the proof you have. Never mind Theodosia—girls always are impatient,” said the mother. “I wish Mr. Johnson was here, so we could know what he thinks about these statements, though as for that, I suppose brother Jones knows nearly as much about it as a preacher.”

“Excuse me, Miss Theodosia—I will not detain you much longer on this point; I have only a few other witnesses whose testimony I will urge at _this time_, though there is scarcely a historian of the early days of Christianity, who does not furnish us with proof. Not many years since, the King of Holland appointed two very learned and able men, one a Professor of Theology in the University of Groningen, and the other Chaplain to the King, to examine into the origin and history of the Dutch Baptists. They wrote out the result of their investigations and published the work at Breda, in 1819. In this volume, prepared by these two learned members of the Dutch Reformed Church, Dr. Ypeig and Dr. J. J. Durmont, the authors, after tracing up the history of the Baptists, make use of the following remarkable language:

“‘We have now seen that the Baptists, who were formerly called Anabaptists, and, in later times, Mennonites, were the original Waldenses, and who have long, in the history of the Church, received the honor of that origin. ON THIS ACCOUNT, THE BAPTISTS MAY BE CONSIDERED AS THE ONLY CHRISTIAN COMMUNITY WHICH HAS STOOD SINCE THE DAYS OF THE APOSTLES, AND AS A CHRISTIAN SOCIETY WHICH HAS PRESERVED PURE THE DOCTRINE OF THE GOSPEL THROUGH ALL AGES. The perfectly correct external and internal economy of the Baptist denomination tends to confirm the truth, disputed by the Romish Church, that the Reformation brought about in the sixteenth century was in the highest degree necessary, and at the same time GOES TO REFUTE THE ERRONEOUS NOTION OF THE CATHOLICS THAT THEIR COMMUNION IS THE MOST ANCIENT.’

“Such was the impression which this truthful document made upon the Court, that the Government of Holland offered to the Baptist Churches the support of the State, which was politely but firmly declined, as inconsistent with their principles.

“The celebrated Bishop Bossuet says: ‘We are able to make it appear by the acts of councils and by ancient rituals, that for more than thirteen hundred years, baptism was administered by immersion throughout the whole church as far as possible.’” “Now, if you have any further doubt, I will bring up these very acts of councils, and authentic copies of these same ancient rituals. They are still on record, and it is not difficult to avail ourselves of their explicit testimony.”

“Oh, no, Mr. Courtney: these historians and preachers, and bishops, were none of them Baptists. We all know that, and if the facts had not compelled them, they would, of course, never have made assertions so injurious to their own cause, and so directly opposed to their own practice. If they say that baptism was done by immersion for thirteen hundred years, of course it must have been so. If Mosheim and Neander, Bossuet and Taylor, Coleman and Whitby, Stackhouse and Baxter, all sprinklers themselves and all opposed the Baptists, make such statements, and even Drs. Miller and Stuart, our own most eminent writers on the subject, admit their truth, why need we spend any more time?”

“But what then becomes of your uncle’s opinion, that the Baptists originated about the year 1530, with the Mad Men of Munster?”

“Oh, I have given up that opinion (which indeed was not more than an impression) some half an hour ago. The testimony is irresistible. Immersion was most unquestionably the practice of the early churches; but I am now, like Theodosia, exceedingly anxious to know how it came to be universally displaced, and sprinkling universally adopted in its place.”

“You are mistaken, Professor Jones, if you imagine that this change is by any means a _universal_ one. It was made by the authority of the Pope, and is confined to the Roman Catholic Church and its descendants. The Eastern churches—comprising a vast number of professing Christians—have never adopted sprinkling, but continue to practice immersion to the present day; and as Professor Stuart truly states, call the Western churches ‘sprinkled Christians,’ by way of derision. If you have any doubt of this, I will prove it to you by the testimony of your own writers of most unquestionable authority.”

“Oh, no, Mr. Courtney, I do not doubt it. You have convinced me so often, that I am now willing to take your word for any thing you please to assert.”

“I thank you, Professor; but still I do not like to deal in assertions. In regard to this point, however, the proof will come in by the way—together with that on the time and manner of the change.”

“Do, then, Mr. Courtney, go on With that,” said the young lady “You don’t know how provoking it is to be kept so long in suspense.”

“Well, here is the testimony. I will leave the story to be told by some of the most celebrated members of the sprinkling churches. You will, of course, not doubt their truthfulness. Here is the Edinburgh Encyclopædia, edited by the learned and celebrated Sir David Brewster. Let us read what he says on the subject. In the Article on Baptism:

“‘The first law for sprinkling was obtained in the following manner: Pope Stephen II., being driven from Rome by Astolphus, King of Lombards, in 753, fled to Pepin, who a short time before had usurped the crown of France. While he remained there, the Monks of Cressy, in Brittany, consulted him whether, in case of necessity, baptism performed by pouring water on the head of the infant would be lawful. Stephen replied that it would. But though the truth of this fact should be allowed, which, however, some Catholics deny, yet pouring or sprinkling was admitted _only in cases of necessity_. It was not till the year 1311, that the Legislature, in a council held at Ravenna, declared immersion or sprinkling to be indifferent. In this country (Scotland), however, sprinkling was never practiced in ordinary cases, till after the Reformation; and in England, even in the reign of Edward VI., immersion was commonly observed. But during the persecution of Mary, many persons, most of whom were Scotchmen, fled from England to Geneva, and there greedily imbibed the opinions of that church. In 1556, a book was published at that place containing the form of prayers and ministration of sacraments, approved by the famous and godly learned man, John Calvin, in which the administrator is enjoined to take water in his hand and lay it on the child’s forehead. These Scottish exiles, who had renounced the authority of the Pope, implicitly acknowledged the authority of Calvin; and returning to their own country with John Knox at their head, in 1559, established sprinkling in Scotland. From Scotland, this practice made its way into England in the reign of Elizabeth, but was not authorized by the established church.’”

“Do let me look at that book a moment,” said the Professor. “It is very strange that I should have been told, as I am sure I have been by some of the learned clergy of our church, that sprinkling was what was practiced from the earliest ages, and that immersion was attempted to be introduced in its place by the Anabaptists of Germany about the year 1530—when in fact immersion had been always the practice, and it was sprinkling that was substituted by John Calvin, the founder of our church. _Can it be possible that Doctors of Divinity will impose such falsehoods on their people in order to sustain the practice of the church?_ I cannot understand it.”

“Perhaps you want more testimony before you can believe it,” said Mr. Courtney; “and here is ample confirmatory proof in the plain and explicit declarations of the famous Dr. Wall.”

“Please tell me,” said Theodosia, “who was Dr. Wall? I have often heard of him, and I know that he wrote one or more books on baptism, but whether on our side or yours, I have never been informed.”

“Dr. Wall,” said Mr. Courtney, “was a minister of the Episcopal, or English Church, and after the publication of his work, the satisfaction it gave was so great, that in a general convocation of the Episcopal clergy, held February 9th, 1706, it was ordered ‘that the thanks of this house be given to Mr. Wall, Vicar of Shoreham, in Kent, for the learned and excellent book he has lately written concerning infant baptism.’”

“Then he must have written against the Baptists, if his work was approved by the clergy of the Episcopal Church.”

“Of course he did, and his book is considered to this day the ablest defence of infant baptism with has ever been written.”

“Well, what does he say about the introduction of sprinkling? Does he agree with the Encyclopædia, which you have read? Where is the passage which speaks of it? Please read it for us.”

“‘France seems to have been the first country in the world where baptism by affusion was used, ordinarily, to persons in health, and in the _public_ way of administering it. It being allowed to _weak_ children (in the reign of Queen Elizabeth) to be baptized by aspersion, many fond ladies and gentlemen first, and then, by degrees, the common people, would obtain the favor of the priest to have their children _pass_ for weak children, too tender to endure dipping in the water. As for _sprinkling_, properly so called, it was at 1645 just _then beginning_, and used by very few. It must have begun in the disorderly times after forty-one. They (the Assembly of Divines in Westminster) re-formed the font into a basin. This learned Assembly could not remember that fonts to baptize in had been _always used by the primitive Christians_ long before the beginning of Popery, and ever since churches were built; but that sprinkling, for the purpose of baptizing, was really introduced (in France first, and then in _other Popish_ countries) in times of Popery, and that, accordingly, _all those countries in which the usurped power of the Pope is, or has formerly been owned_, HAVE LEFT OFF DIPPING OF CHILDREN IN THE FONTS; but that all other countries in the world which had never regarded his authority, do still use it; and that basins (to sprinkle out of) except in cases of necessity, were never used by Papists, or any other Christians whosoever, till by themselves.’—_Hist. of Infant Baptism_, part 2d, chap. 9.

“This,” said Mr. Courtney, “is Dr. Wall’s account of the first introduction of sprinkling; and you see that it confirms the truth of what I told you, that it was introduced by Popery, and is confined to the countries where Popery prevails, or has prevailed. The Protestant sects borrowed it from the Catholics. Now look at page 403 of this other volume, by the same author, and read the passage I have marked.

“‘The way that is ordinarily used, _we cannot deny to have been a novelty_, brought into this Church (the English) by those that had learned it at Germany, or at Geneva. And they, not contented to follow the example of pouring a quantity of water (which had there been introduced instead of immersion), but improved it (if I may so abuse that word) from pouring to sprinkling, _that it might have as little resemblance to the ancient way of baptizing as possible_.’—_Def. of Hist. of Infant Baptism_, p. 403.

“If you consult the Edinburgh Encyclopædia the British Encyclopædia, and the Encyclopædia Americana, article Baptism, you will find a complete history of the whole subject, the truthfulness of which you will feel no disposition to question. You will there learn that in England the Westminster Assembly of Divines had a warm discussion whether immersion or sprinkling should be adopted. But by the earnest efforts of Dr. Lightfoot, who had great interest in the Assembly, sprinkling was adopted by a majority of _one_. The vote stood—twenty-four for immersion, and twenty-five for sprinkling. This was 1643 years after Christ. The next year an Act of Parliament was passed, requiring the parents of all children born in the realm to have them sprinkled; and in 1648, some four years afterward, an Ecclesiastical Council, held at Cambridge, Massachusetts, adopted sprinkling in the place of immersion; and, in May of the same year, the Legislature of that State passed a law making it a penal offence for any one to _say_ that infant sprinkling was not good and valid baptism.”

“That is surely sufficient,” said Uncle Jones, “to satisfy any candid mind, but yet I can hardly believe it, for very astonishment.”

“What is there so surprising,” replied Mr. Courtney, “in the fact that men should change Christ’s ordinances? They did the same thing before our Saviour’s time; and he had more than once occasion to reprove them, because they taught ‘for ordinances the commandments of men,’ and ‘made the Word of God of none effect through their traditions.’”

“It is not,” replied the Professor, “so much the _fact_ which fills me with astonishment, as the care which is evidently taken by ministers of religion in our church to _conceal the fact_, and make on our minds the impression that sprinkling, instead of being merely _allowed by the Pope_, was actually commanded by Jesus Christ, and was commonly practiced by the church till the Baptists undertook to introduce immersion. But, if I do not forget, some of our writers have contended that there was sufficient testimony in the writings of the early Fathers to show that sprinkling was really employed at a very early day. Is it not possible that Sir David Brewster, and Dr. Wall, and Professor Stuart, and all those other great names, including Martin Luther and John Calvin themselves, may have been mistaken, and that sprinkling was, after all, the practice of the early church? Did not Cyprian, one of the ancient Fathers, expressly declare that sprinkling was practiced in his day, and was considered valid baptism? I am sure I have received such an impression from some source.”

“You probably received it from some Doctor of Divinity—they are accustomed to make such impressions, but Cyprian says no such thing. The case to which you allude presents the very first instance on record in the whole range of ecclesiastical history in which it was thought possible to substitute any other act for the act of immersion. The facts have been preserved by Eusebius, one of the Fathers, and the historian of the early churches.

“It appears that a certain man, named Novatian, was taken sick, and was apparently nigh unto death. In this condition he became, as many others have done, greatly alarmed about his condition; and, professing faith in Christ, desired to be baptized. But he was too weak to be taken out of bed and put into the water. The water was, therefore, poured around him in his bed. He afterward recovered, and devoting himself to the ministry, applied for priestly orders, and the question arose, whether one thus ‘poured upon’ in his bed could be accounted a Christian? Now, it is evident, if pouring or sprinkling had been a common mode of administering the ordinance, this question would never have been asked.

“Cyprian was written to upon this subject, and he replied, giving it as his opinion that the grace usually conferred in baptism, might be received by such pouring. In other words, that, though this was not baptism, for it is not called baptism, _perichism_ (‘_perichutheis_’), from _peri_, around, and _cheo_, to pour—yet he considered it a valid _substitute_ for baptism. This was some time in the third century after Christ. That such substitution was not common, and had received no general sanction from the church, is evident from the well known fact that the Monks of Cressy, in 754, wrote to the Pope, Stephen II., inquiring, ‘If it be lawful in case of necessity, occasioned by sickness, to baptize an infant by pouring water on its head from a cup, or the hands?’ To which the Pope replied: ‘Such a baptism, performed in such a case of _necessity_, shall be accounted valid.’ ‘This,’ says Basnage, ‘is accounted the first law against immersion.’ The Pontiff, however, did not dispense with immersion except in case of extreme necessity. This law, therefore, did not change the mode of dipping in the public baptisms; and it was not till five hundred and fifty-seven years, that the legislature, in a council at Ravenna, in 1311, declared immersion and pouring indifferent.”

“Pardon me, Mr. Courtney, if I seem querulous; but did not ORIGEN, another of the Fathers, speak of baptism as a pouring, when relating the history of the flooding of the wood, and the sacrifice by the prophet Elisha in his contest with the prophets of Baal? Does he not call this _wetting_ a baptism?”

“He does indeed, Professor. He calls it a baptism in the same way that the writer of the book of Daniel calls the _wetting_ of Nebuchadnezzar a baptism. He was _baptized_ in the dews of heaven. The word in the Hebrew is _tabal_, which no one ever doubted signified to dip or to immerse. He was dipped in the dews of heaven—a most beautiful, though hyperbolical, figure of speech, expressing the idea that he was as _wet as though he had been dipped_. The allusion in both cases is to the wetting, not to the act by which the wetting was occasioned.”

“I am glad,” said Uncle Jones, “that you mentioned that passage in Daniel, for I confess it has been a stumbling-stone to me; yet you set aside all my other Scriptural difficulties so easily, that I was almost ashamed to mention it. I was going to tell you that baptize must signify something besides immersion, because it was _impossible_ that the deposed monarch could be actually immersed in dew.”

“If you had told me so, I would have proved to you,” said Mr. Courtney, “that _dip_ does not mean _to dip_, or to submerge, because Milton, a standard English writer, represents one as saying that he is dipped all over in the perspiration of his own body:

_“‘A cold shuddering dew dips me all over.’_

“If Daniel had been translated as he should have been, ‘His body was _dipped_ in the dews of heaven,’ everybody would have recognized the force and beauty of the figure, as we do in Milton. It would have been like that expression which represents the good land of Canaan as ‘_flowing_’ with milk and honey; or, like that which represents God as _pouring out_ blessings till there should not be room to receive them. Such hyperbolical figures are extremely beautiful, and are common in all languages.

“Nebuchadnezzar is said to be dipped in dew, and Origen says the wood and the sacrifice were immersed in water, to express the completeness of the soaking or drenching which they received.”

“Yes,” said Theodosia, “Edwin made use of the word _ducking_ last evening in the same way. You recollect, Mr. Courtney, the lad who pulled the bucket of water over on his head in school yesterday, so much to the amusement of all the boys. Well, Edwin, in relating the circumstances, said that the little fellow got a good ‘_ducking_.’ By which he meant of course, that he was as wet as though he had _dived_ in the water _like a duck_. It would have been equally proper to have said that he got a good ‘dipping,’ and yet neither ducking or dipping means to pour upon—they are diving and plunging still.”

“Well, well, Theodosia,” said the mother, “that is what I should call stepping from the sublime to the ridiculous. Please go on, Mr. Courtney, and don’t mind her nonsense.”

“Indeed, Mrs. Ernest, I feel obliged to your daughter for so appropriate an illustration of the great principle of interpretation which must guide us in deciding upon the meaning of such passages. She has shown us that not only in Scriptural usage, and in the poets, but even in common talk among the very children, _one mode_ of wetting is sometimes figuratively employed to designate another mode; and that a person or thing that is as thoroughly _wet_ as though it _had been_ dipped, may be appropriately and beautifully said _to be dipped_.

“But now to return to the subject of our conversation. I have proved to you, by the united testimony of Mosheim, Neander, and Moses Stuart—of Luther, and Calvin, and Whitby, and Taylor, and Baxter—by Drs. Ypeig and Durmont, Coleman and Bossuet, to whose testimony I might have added that of many others of the highest authority, both among the ancients and the moderns, that immersion was the practice of the early churches, and continued to be the only practice, _except_ in cases of _supposed_ necessity, for MORE THAN THREE HUNDRED YEARS. I have showed you further, how ‘pouring’ was first practiced irregularly, and without authority from the Bible, or the Pope, in some rare cases of extreme sickness, till the Monks of Cressy obtained the sanction of the Pope (not of Christ) for its use in these _extreme cases of sickness_, more than seven hundred years after Christ, and how immersion and pouring were at length declared to be indifferent by the Pope and his Council (not by the Scriptures) at Ravenna, in 1311.

“I have showed you also how John Calvin and the Westminster Assembly of Divines were the means of bringing sprinkling into the English and Presbyterian Churches of Scotland and England—whence it came over to America with the Colonists.

“I have showed you also that as this change was made by the Pope and the Papal Church, so it is confined to those countries which are, or have been, under Roman Catholic rule, and that the Eastern Churches, which never acknowledged the dominion of the Pope, have continued to practice immersion even to the present day. I have showed you all this, not by the testimony of _Baptist_ witnesses, but by that of members of sprinkling churches—by Lutherans, Episcopalians, and Presbyterians; and these not men of doubtful character, and unknown to fame, but of world-wide celebrity, both in regard to their religious and their intellectual character. He who, after this, will not believe that immersion was the baptism of the early churches, would not believe though Paul himself should return from the dead to testify.”

“But, Mr. Courtney,” said Mrs. Ernest, “what if it was? Must we be immersed, because the old Fathers were immersed? I thought you Baptists were opposed to old traditions.”

“We are opposed, Mrs. Ernest,” said he, very solemnly. “We are opposed to the substitution of the _traditions of men for the teachings of the Word of God_. We have ascertained from the Word itself that it was immersion which was commanded by Jesus Christ. It was thus the early Christians understood it. It was this which, for many hundred years, they practiced; but at length the man-made ordinance of sprinkling and pouring was introduced by the authority of the Pope and his councils. You have adopted _this_—your church almost universally practices it—you have no other authority for it, as I have proved by your own writers, but that of the Pope. Is it not true, therefore, that you are in your church ‘teaching for doctrines the commandments of men?’

“I did not refer to the usage of the early churches as the _authority_ for immersion. If I could not find it in the Bible, I would not receive it, though it had been practiced from the time of Noah. Tradition is no authority in matters of religion. I may use it to confirm the teaching of the actual commandment, but where there is no express precept or example recorded in God’s Word, I owe no obedience in matters of religion.”

“But why, then, did you go into this long investigation of the practice of the church?”

“I did it, madam, for the satisfaction of Professor Jones and your daughter, who seemed to have a sort of silent conviction that the simple fact that sprinkling was _so generally practiced_, was in some way or other sufficient evidence that it must have been commanded in the Scriptures. I, therefore, traced immersion back to Jesus Christ, and showed where he commanded it. I have now traced _pouring_ back to Pope Stephen II. and showed where he allowed it in cases of necessity, and to the Popish council at Ravenna, and showed where they allowed it in other cases; and I have traced _sprinkling_, properly so-called, back to John Calvin, and showed where he commanded it in his Book of Prayers and Sacraments, published at Geneva. I have, therefore, founded immersion on the _rock_ of God’s Word, and at the same time convinced you all; I trust, that pouring and sprinkling rest only on the _sand_ of human invention—not having even a credible _tradition_ to rest upon.”

Uncle Jones listened with some uneasiness to this long speech. He felt its force, and recognized its truthfulness, but he was doubtful of the effect it might have upon his sister. In fact, he was afraid of an explosion.

Affection for her daughter had, however, been working wonders in the mother’s mind within the last two days. She found that Theodosia _would_ examine, and she desired that she would do it _quickly_. She found she was likely to be _convinced_, and she began to excuse her by considering the weight and invincibility of the arguments. Now, she saw that she _was_ convinced, and every additional reason for such conviction was a comfort to her maternal pride, as it was new proof that her daughter was not such a simpleton as to believe without the most convincing evidence.

She had not the most distant idea of being convinced _herself_. She did not hear or weigh the testimony for herself—she heard and thought only for Theodosia—and since her daughter _would_ become a Baptist, she was gratified that it was nothing less than the most _unanswerable arguments_ that compelled her to do so.

So far, therefore, from looking angry, she seemed rather pleased with this conclusion of the schoolmaster’s arguments; and she herself suggested that he should enter upon the other branch of it, by reminding him that he had promised to show that the American Baptists did not originate with Roger Williams any more than the European Baptists did with the Mad Men of Munster.

“That is one of the easiest things in the world to do,” replied Mr. Courtney. “Even granting that Roger Williams established the _first_ Baptist Church which was ever known in this country, yet it would not follow that all the Baptists, or _any_ of the Baptist Churches received their baptism from him; for there have been, every year since his day, more or less regularly immersed Baptists, and regularly ordained Baptist ministers coming to this country; and even though he had founded the church at Providence, and that in an irregular manner, before any other Baptist Church was founded—that would not invalidate the regularity of any other of the thousands and thousands of Baptist Churches, unless it could be made to appear that they were all colonies from that. I need not, therefore, spend any time upon this point. Of all the thousands of Baptist Churches in America, there are none whose pastors and members have had any manner of dependence on the church founded by Roger Williams. They have many of them received baptism from the _Dutch_ Baptists, of whom Drs. Ypeig and Durmont testify that they belong to a body of Christians who can trace their origin down to the very times of the Apostles. Many of them received it from the _Welsh_ Baptists, who can trace their descent back to the sixth or seventh century. Many of them received it from the English Baptists, who have been the victims of proscription and persecution from a very early day. But _none_ of them received baptism from Roger Williams, or the church said to have been established by him at Providence. The truth is, the society established by Roger Williams, Holliman, and others, soon died out. It never planted any other church. It cannot be proved that any Baptist who received baptism in that body and by their authority, was ever concerned in baptizing any founder of other churches.”

“I have often heard of Roger Williams,” said Theodosia, “as the founder of the Baptists in this country. Please tell me what was his relation to them.”

“Roger Williams adopted at one time Baptist sentiments, at least, in some particulars,” replied Mr. Courtney. “He desired to be immersed. There was no Baptist minister at hand. He consequently immersed one of his followers, who, in turn, immersed him, and then he considered himself competent to immerse others. The little company, thus irregularly baptized, called itself a Baptist church; but, in about four months, Roger Williams himself changed his opinions and withdrew from the society. The so-called church soon died out, and the present Baptist Church of Providence was founded on an independent basis, separate and distinct from that. It seems probable, however, from recent historical researches, that the _oldest_ Baptist Church in the United States, is that at Newport, in Rhode Island, founded by John Clark, against the regularity of whose baptism there has, so far as I know, been nothing alleged. Though, as to that, even if _this, and all the other churches of Rhode Island_, had been, and were still, irregular up to the present time, it would not affect the standing of the great body of the churches in the United States, since very few of them derived their baptism directly or indirectly from Rhode Island—and not single one of them from Roger Williams.”

THE SEVENTH NIGHT’S STUDY.

In which it is clearly proved by the Scriptures themselves and by the testimony of the most learned and eminent pedobaptist ministers, that infant baptism was not commanded by Christ or the apostles: infant baptism was not practiced or sanctioned by Christ or his apostles.

Seventh Night’s Study.

The attentive reader may have observed that Mr. Percy has not favored us with his presence for the last three nights. Though he seemed so greatly interested in the subject, yet with the third night’s study he apparently abandoned it. Since that time he had not visited Mrs. Ernest’s cottage, or held any communion with its inmates. He did not know what progress Theodosia had made in her investigations, nor what assistance she had received from Uncle Jones or others. The remark made by Mr. Courtney, as they were about to separate on that occasion, “that he would find it much easier to satisfy his mind that sprinkling and pouring were not baptism, than he would to abandon his church connections and be baptized according to the commandment of Jesus Christ,” had opened his eyes. He had, till that moment, looked upon the subject merely as one of curious speculation. It was till then a mere question of fact, to be decided by testimony. As such, its investigation greatly interested him. It was congenial to his logical and discriminating cast of mind, and he had been studying it as he would a case of law. But he now saw that it was a _practical_ matter. If he decided that he had not been baptized, consistency would require that he should at once apply for baptism. This would break off his connection with a large, and wealthy, and influential body, and tie him down to a little company of obscure and ignorant laborers and mechanics—for of such was the newly-organized Baptist Church of which we have been speaking chiefly composed. This was something he could not think of. His natural pride had never been humbled by the grace of God, and he was not at all prepared to resign a position at once honorable and profitable, for one of comparative insignificance and contempt. He thought of these things as he was going home that night, and at once resolved that he would have no more to do with the subject.

In this resolution he had been confirmed, by a visit next morning from Colonel White, one of the members of the Session, who was a wealthy speculator in lands, and one of his best patrons. After some conversation about matters of business, Colonel White carelessly remarked: “They have it rumored, Squire Percy, that you are on the eve of leaving our church and becoming a Baptist.”

“Let me assure you, colonel, that there is not the slightest foundation for such a report. I have, indeed, spent a few hours in the investigation of the mode of baptism, but it was for the mere purpose of fortifying my mind with the best arguments in favor of our position on that subject. I found, indeed, that the immersionists have much firmer ground to stand upon than I imagined; but I have never for a moment entertained the idea of leaving the Presbyterian Church.”

“I am glad to hear it, Mr. Percy, for I prefer, and so do several of our best firms, to employ you to attend to our business, and we had all about concluded that we could never trust our interests in the hands of one so fickle minded as such a change would prove a man to be; and, besides this, since the death of Deacon Smith, there has been a vacancy in the Church Session, which we have been desirous to fill with some talented and efficient _young_ man, since the rest of us are now beginning to be somewhat advanced in years. We were talking of you, and the only objection seemed to be, that you were yet unmarried. I took the liberty to say that I thought _that_ difficulty would be removed in the course of another month, as I understood the wedding-day was fixed. It is no secret, you know. But then, rumor says also, that Miss Theodosia is going over to the Baptists; and that her mother, with all her authority, has not been able to dissuade her from the investigation of the subject, though she sees very plainly where it will lead her.”

“It is very true,” said the young man, “that she has been engaged in the study of this subject, but I do not know to what conclusion she may come. For my own part, I have concluded to have nothing more to do with it.”

“It is a delicate matter, Mr. Percy, and perhaps I ought not to mention it, and nothing but my regard for your future happiness, and the honor of our church, could induce me to do it; but would it not be wise in you to use your influence (which I know must be very great) to induce her to pause before she takes a step which will cause your house, always after your marriage, to be divided against itself? I know I have no right to advise, but I take the liberty of a friend to you, and a friend to your father before you, to merely suggest such a thought. Perhaps, on reflection, you may think it advisable, either to see her immediately, or write a little line, stating your own determination, and whatever else you may think most likely to operate upon her mind, so as to prevent such a terrible event as it would be to you and all of us, should she so far disgrace her name and dishonor her profession as to leave the communion in which she was born, and by which she has been nourished and taught—in which her grandparents lived and died—and of which she is herself the ornament and pride, and throw herself away, with all her loveliness and intelligence, by uniting her fate to that ignorant and obscure sect, with a mechanic for a preacher, who have started up here like a mushroom in a single night, and will probably pass away again in a day.”

Mr. Percy was about to reply, when the colonel anticipated him by rising and grasping the young man’s hand very warmly in both of his. “Pardon me,” he said, “I ought not to have spoken thus. Forget that I have said it. But don’t forget my case in the Supreme Court. I have entrusted it entirely to you. I want you to have all the honor which will accrue from a decision in your favor. Good morning. You will need all your time to make preparation for next week’s Circuit Court—you start on Saturday, I believe?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, good luck to you,” and the colonel was gone.

Mr. Percy walked his office with a restless, undecided air, for some time, and then set himself resolutely to work in the preparation of some cases for the approaching court. But he could not banish the subject from his mind. He sometimes thought he would go at once, and have another conversation with his betrothed upon the subject; but when he remembered her earnest and conscientious truthfulness of soul, he feared to lower himself in her estimation by presenting to her any but the real reasons for his abandonment of the investigation, and these he hardly dared to own even to himself. This was on Wednesday morning. He learned on Thursday that Uncle Jones had been conversing with Theodosia on the subject; and, on Friday, that both he and Mr. Courtney had been at the cottage; and Mrs. Tattle had told young Dr. Woodruff, who was his intimate friend and confidant, that, on the coming Sabbath, Miss Ernest was to be baptized.

Early on Saturday morning, he was obliged to start to a distant county-site to attend a session of the Circuit Court. Before his return (if this story were true) the die would be cast. If he would prevent it at all, he must do it now. He determined to write what he felt he could not speak. The letter read thus:

“DEAREST:—I must leave town to-morrow, and shall be gone a week. I have been so pressed by business, that I have not been able to call in again, as I intended when I saw you last. I cannot come to-night, but I cannot leave without expressing to you once more my earnest love. You know, dearest Theodosia, that the happiness of my life is bound up in yours. I have no wish or hope in the future but those of which you form a part; and, if what I am about to say should be unpleasant to you, I beg you will remember that it is dictated by the tenderest and most ardent affection. It is because I value your happiness even more than my own, that I venture to say what I am about to utter. I have learned from rumor that you have already determined to abandon our church, and unite with that contemptible sect of Baptists. I do not know if this be true or not. I hope and pray the rumor may prove false. I will not say these Baptists are not right about the mode of baptism. It may be they are. But whether one mode or another be correct, baptism is not essential to salvation. It is a mere outward form, and I cannot, for the sake of a mere external and non-essential ceremony, abjure the church of my fathers. I fondly hope that she, whom I love more than all else in life, will agree with me in this. I cannot bear the thought that one so beautiful, so lovely, so accomplished, so fitted to shine and _lead_ in the highest circle of our society—one, too, who has the unbounded confidence and affection of her brothers and sisters in the church—should bring such dishonor upon her father’s name, such sorrow to her mother’s heart, and such regret to his, who rejoices in the hope that he will be the companion of her life, and the husband of her love, as to prove recreant to her Christian faith—forsake the church of the mother who offered her to God in infancy—of the teachers who instructed her childhood—of the pastor who prayed with her in the time of her conviction, and rejoiced over her at the time of her conversion; and may I not add of him who, trusting in the solemn promise of our betrothal, expects to spend his life in promoting her happiness? How can you, my dearest love—how can you disregard such considerations as these? I know that you are conscientious in every step you take, and I beg you to reflect whether these things should not have some influence with you. I know that you mean to do right, and I entreat that you will consider if such a course will not be wrong. I know I have no right to dictate, but, oh! I do beseech you, if you have any love for me, that you will not so mortify and distress, not me alone, but all who love you, as to unite your fate with those boorish, uneducated, and bigoted people, called Baptists. “Your distressed, but still most affectionate, “G. W. PERCY.”

This note he hardly trusted himself to read, so he sealed it up, and despatched a messenger to carry it to Mrs. Ernest’s. Its immediate effect on Theodosia we have already seen. When she had reached her own room, she threw her head upon her mother’s bosom, and, sighing as if a heart-string broke with every deep-fetched sob that came, gave free expression to her uncontrollable distress.

It was long before the mother became sufficiently composed to read the letter, and learn what it was that had occasioned such a terrible heart-sorrow to her loving and sensitive child. Terrible she knew it must be, for never in her life had she seen Theodosia exhibit such unutterable distress. The young lady herself did not know precisely what the letter contained. She had loved Mr. Percy with all the fervor of a first and only love. The day was fixed only a few weeks in the future for their wedding. The preparations for it were even then begun. To be what Mr. Percy would approve, was to her the highest point of earthly ambition. She prized her peerless beauty, not for its own sake, but because Mr. Percy praised it. She valued her accomplishments, chiefly because Mr. Percy thought them desirable. With all her independence of thought and originality of mind, she had learned to think that she was wrong, if Mr. Percy did not think her right.

In this investigation he had gone with her step by step, so long as he had taken any part in it. She had, till now, not the very slightest suspicion that he would not _act out his convictions_, as well as herself—much less did she imagine that he would so fearfully disapprove of her obedience to what she now was fully satisfied was the plain and unmistakable command of her Redeemer.

The first influence of this communication was like that of a heavy blow upon the head. It staggered, and then stunned the mind. She only felt that some great and terrible calamity had fallen on her heart and crushed it. She could not recall the language of the letter, but only a general impression of its contents. But there was, here and there, a word which was burnt into her very brain. With all its protestations of affection, she felt (for love is jealous in such things) that if she became a Baptist, she forfeited his love.

To her mother she could speak words no other’s ear might hear—and when her sobs had somewhat ceased, and she had been persuaded to lie down, and try to be composed, she drew her mother’s face to hers, and while. their tears mingled together upon her cheek, she whispered, “I did not think he could have cast me off for seeking to know and do my duty.”

“My precious child, he has not cast you off—he says again and again, that he loves you dearly, and hopes to spend his life in rendering you happy.”

“But, mother, does he not say he cannot bear _to think of my becoming a Baptist_? Does he not call them, whom now I do believe are the true church of Jesus Christ—does he not call them _that contemptible sect_? Does he not say that because he _has no right to dictate_, he _entreats_ me not to _mortify_ him, not to _distress_ him, by becoming one of that little company of boorish, uneducated, and bigoted people? No, no, mother, I see it all. If I become a Baptist, I must resign his love—I must give up all the most cherished hopes of my life. After such an expression of his dislike to these poor and humble disciples of Jesus, I would not dare, if I were one of them, to become his wife. I must choose between him and my Saviour—I see it all—but I can’t choose now. Oh! my mother, pray for me—pray for me! _You_ will not cast me off, my mother: _you_ will love me still. Will you not, my mother? You can love, even though I do mortify and distress you, can’t you mother?”

“Yes, yes, darling—don’t look at me so wildly. I will love you always—I will love you dearly. And so will Mr. Percy, even though you do mortify and distress him. He can’t help loving you, my sweet child. No one, who knows you, can do any thing but love you.”

“No, mother, _he can’t love as I must be loved_, were I the wife of his bosom. But I dare not think of that now. I must pray—I must ask wisdom—I must get strength from heaven. Leave me now, mother, but don’t forget to pray for me.”

The mother went away—and, kneeling down, poured out her heart in a sincere and fervent prayer, that God would indeed give comfort to her poor child’s loving and smitten spirit. While she, the dear, sweet child, lay still upon her bed, and only prayed with those groanings that cannot be uttered, for _strength to bear_, as well as _energy to do_—her mind grew calmer and clearer, and when her mother came, an half hour after, to bid her good-night, she was in a deep sleep, with something almost like a smile upon her face. This may seem strange to one who does not know that one effect of sudden, deep, and terrible sorrow is quickly to exhaust the nervous energies and predispose to heavy slumber. There is, therefore, a most affecting beauty in the language of the Evangelist, when he says of the disciples, whom Jesus had left only a little time, while he went to pray, that he returned to them, and found them _sleeping for sorrow_. No other language could so perfectly express the deep, intense, and soul-exhausting _agony of mind_ which they had felt on learning that their beloved Lord was soon to perish by the hands of his enemies, and that one of their number should be the wretch who would betray him into their hands.

So Theodosia might now be said to be sleeping for sorrow. She did not wake till after her ordinary time of rising in the morning. When she first became conscious, there was a feeling of weight upon her eyelids which prevented her from opening them; and as she lay there, motionless, the events of the past evening began to come back, like the dimly-remembered imagery of some fearful dream. At first, she was only conscious that something terrible had befallen her, and it required some little effort to remember what it was. Then came to view the letter, just as it looked when her mother handed it to her as she sat in the parlor. She could see every mark of every letter of the superscription. Then the open letter was before her; and she read some of the lines as they had marked themselves with terrible distinctness on her brain; others she could not _em_, but only a dim impression of their sense came up in her remembrance. When, as she ran thus in her mind over the letter, she came to where it read, “I know I have no right to dictate—but oh! I do beseech you, if you have any love for me, that you will not so mortify and distress, not me alone,” etc., the tears flowed freely, and she was able to open her eyes.

Her mother had, at that moment, come in, and was bending over her.

“My poor child,” said she, as she saw the tears start even before she seemed to be awake—“how do you feel this morning?”

“Is it morning, mother? I have been asleep—I have had a terrible dream—or was it all reality? Do, mother, tell me, did you bring me a letter last night from Mr. Percy?”

“Yes, my child, you are not quite awake. It was no dream; but the reality is not so terrible as you imagine. Let me give you this cup of coffee, and you will feel refreshed.”

“Theodosia sat up in bed and sipped the coffee—and shortly afterward got up, and went and sat beside her mother and engaged in some worsted work which she had begun the day before. When her mother went out, she followed her, and stood beside her till she returned; so she continued all through the day, accompanying her as constantly and almost as noiselessly as her shadow. She did not speak—she did not weep—she sometimes _tried_ to smile, but it was pitiful to see the effort made to divert her mother’s mind and make her think she was not _so very bad_. In this condition we must leave her for the present, and go to the dwelling of Professor Jones, where Mr. Courtney and the Rev. Mr. Johnson are waiting to engage in the discussion of the subject of infant baptism—which discussion, if it should prove to be less entertaining than this little narrative of what transpired at Mrs. Ernest’s, will, we trust, be more instructive.

“If I understood you correctly, Mr. Courtney,” said Professor Jones (when they were all assembled), “you asserted that there was in the Scriptures not the slightest authority for the baptism of infants, and that baptism received in infancy is not valid baptism.”

“You are _nearly_ correct,” said Mr. Courtney, smiling. “I did not _assert_ that there was no such authority, for it is not my habit to deal in _mere assertions_. I said that I would _prove_ that this was so.”

“But how will you set about proving such a negative?”

“By offering the only testimony which the nature of the case admits. Our authority to baptize any one, infant or adult, is derived only from the _commandments_ or _example_ of Christ or his apostles. All they said and all they did which is of any authority to us, is recorded in the Word of God. Now if I can’t find, and you can’t show me, _any single place_ where an infant was commanded to be baptized, or _any single place_ where one is said to have been baptized, then I think I may venture to say that _there is no authority there for infant baptism_.”

“I think so too; but I am certain we can show you a number of such places. Can we not, Mr. Johnson?”

“Certainly we can. It has always been my understanding that the baptism of the infant children of believers is explicitly commanded by both Christ and the apostles; and what was required by their precepts, they enforced by their example. They both commanded and they practiced it.”

“Very good. Here then is the point on which we are at issue. _If the places are in the Book, you can show them._ I will not be unreasonable. I do not ask even for two witnesses—I only require _one_. Show me _one solitary instance_ of either precept or example, and I will give up the case.”

“I have been accustomed to think,” said the Professor, “that the commission itself, as recorded in Matt. xxviii. 19, and in Mark xvi. 15, 16, contained all the authority which was given to the Christian Church to administer the ordinance of baptism; and I had supposed that the authority to baptize infants was to be found in what Christ said on that occasion—‘Go ye into all the world, and preach the Gospel to every creature. He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved; but he that believeth not shall be damned.’”

“That,” said Mr. Johnson, “is what Mark says. Get a Testament and see how it reads in Matthew. I think it is somewhat different. Here it is—‘Go ye therefore and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and lo! I am with you always, even unto the end of the world.’”

“Very good,” said Mr. Courtney. “You have the law all now before you. Is there in it a single allusion, even the faintest, to infants? Did Christ say, as you Presbyterians do, Go baptize believers and their infant children—or believers only? Matthew says, _teach_ them and _then_ baptize them. So they must be such as can be taught. But can a little babe, ‘mewling and puking in its mother’s arms,’ be taught the doctrines of salvation by Jesus Christ? Mark says—‘He that _believeth_ and is baptized;’ so that he speaks of none baptized but those who had first _believed_. Can little infants, who do not yet so much as know their right hand from their left, exercise faith in the Saviour of souls? _You_ will not, I am sure, venture to say they can, though there have been some _Doctors of Divinity_ who were silly enough to make such assertions. And Matthew, in fact, says just the same that Mark does; for ‘the word rendered _teach_ here, is not the one that is usually so translated in the New Testament. This word properly means _disciple_, or _make disciples_ of all nations.’—(_Barnes’ Notes, In. loc_.) So also says that eminent and good man, Dr. Doddridge, author of the ‘Rise and Progress of Religion’: ‘Here it is to be observed, _first_, certain things are enjoined, viz.: to _disciple_—to baptize—to teach. Secondly, these things are enjoined, in a _certain order_, viz.: the order in which they stand in the divine commission.’—(_Dod. Lec._) So says also that other great and good man, the pious Baxter, author of ‘The Saints’ Rest’:

“‘Go _disciple_ me all nations—and as for those,’ he continues, ‘who say they are discipled _by_ baptizing and not _before_ baptizing, they speak not the sense of the text, nor that which is true or rational, if they mean it absolutely as so spoken, else why should one be baptized more than another?’ ‘This text is not like some occasional historical mention of baptism, but it is _the very commission_ of Christ to his apostles for preaching and baptizing, and purposely expresseth their several works in their several orders. Their _first_ task is by teaching to make disciples, who are by Mark called _believers_. The _second_ work is to _baptize_ them—whereunto is annexed the promise of salvation. The _third_ is to teach them all other things which are afterward to be learned in the school of Christ. To contemn _this order_ is to renounce _all rules of order_, for where can we expect to find it, if not here?’ ‘I profess,’ he goes on to say, ‘my conscience is fully satisfied from this text that it is one sort of faith, even _saving_ faith, that must go before baptism; and the profession whereof the minister must expect.’—_Dis. on the Right to Sacrament_, pp. 91⁠–⁠150.

“Dr. Hibbard, a Methodist, in his Commentary on Matt. xxviii. 19⁠–⁠20, says—‘It is well known that our English version does not give a satisfactory view of this passage. The word rendered teach in the 19th verse is altogether a different word in the original from that rendered teach in the 20th. It should read, Go _disciple_, that is make _converts_ to Christianity of all nations,’ etc.

“Neither of you, gentlemen, nor any other Greek scholar, will dispute that _matheteusate_, in the first part of this commission, means make disciples, as certainly as _didaskontes_ means teaching in the last part of it. Nor can you, or any man of common sense, pretend that any are commanded to be baptized, but those who have first been made disciples. Now what is the New Testament meaning of a disciple? Jesus Christ himself shall answer: Luke xiv. 26, 27, 33. ‘If any man come to me and hate not his father, and mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters, yea, and his own life also, he _cannot be my disciple_. And whosoever doth not bear his cross and come after me _cannot be my disciple_. So likewise, whosoever he be of you, that forsaketh not all that he hath, he _cannot be my disciple_.’ Do little infants, who do not even know the name of Christ, and scarcely know their own, so love Christ that the love they have to all others is like hatred compared to that they feel for him? Can little infants forsake all for Christ, and do they daily take their cross and follow him? Then they are his disciples, and are commanded to be baptized. But no sensible man who is not a _Doctor of Divinity_ would ever think of such absurdity. _You do not pretend to baptize infants on any such grounds._ You do not ask in them for any evidence of penitence, or piety, or faith, or love, or any thing else that goes to make a disciples of Christ.”

“No,” replied Mr. Johnson, “we baptize them on the _faith of their parents_.”

“But this commission says nothing about baptizing the _children of believing parents_. By it the ministers of Christ are commanded to baptize _disciples_ (according to Matthew) and _believers_ (according to Mark); but in regard to the _children_ of these disciples and believers, they are both as silent as the grave.”

“It was not necessary,” said Mr. Johnson, “to put the authority for the baptism of infants _in the commission_, since the matter is fully provided for elsewhere. I grant that it is not in _this_ passage, but it does not follow that it is not in the Bible.”

“Oh! no—certainly not,” said Mr. Courtney. “I am easy to be satisfied; show it to me _in any other place_, and it will do quite as well.”

“But, I do not feel disposed,” said Professor Jones “to give up this passage so easily. Does not the term ‘_all nations_’ include infants as well as adults?”

“Certainly, but they were not to _baptize all nations_, for this would include _all unbelievers_ and _their_ children, as well as _believers_ and _their_ children. They were to Go to all nations (not to the Jews alone, as they had been used to think); and among all nations they were to make disciples, as many as they could—and those disciples who believed they were to baptize.”

“But, Mr. Courtney, let me put in another plea for the infants. I am very anxious to get them into this commission, for I have always thought they were surely there. It is evident they are not included in the expression ‘all nations,’ since it is true, as you say, it will include all infidels, idolators, profligates, and murderers, as well as the infant children of unbelievers—but are they not included in the word disciples? May they not, in view of their innocence, and purity, and evident fitness for heaven, be properly called the disciples of Jesus? Did not Jesus himself compare his disciples to them, and say that none could enter heaven who did not become like one of them? I will therefore, put it on this ground: None but disciples are to be baptized, but infants are already by nature disciples—and therefore infants are to be baptized.”

“But,” said Mr. Courtney, “the disciples who were to be baptized were _not_ disciples by _nature_. They were to be _made_ disciples. They were to be _believing_ disciples, and capable of learning, for they were to be taught. Now as infants are not _made disciples_ by hearing the Word—as they are incapable _of faith_ or of instruction in the things that Christ commanded, they cannot be included in the term disciples.”

“Yes, but infants have the natural _capacity to believe and to be taught_, which will in time be fully developed.”

“Very true; and so when these capacities are fully developed, and they _actually have believed_, they will have become disciples. You know very well that children do not ordinarily grow up the disciples of Jesus, but the servants of sin, and all of them need conversion after they come to the development of their faculties, before they can be disciples. They are in infancy in _some respects like to disciples_, but they are _not_ disciples, but ‘are by _nature_ the children of wrath even as others’—and as soon as they are old enough, they show it very plainly.”

“Well, I fear we must give up the commission. But tell me this, if infants are not fit subjects for baptism, how can they be fit for heaven?”

“Those only are fit subjects for baptism, whom _Christ commanded to be baptized_. The Gospel has nothing to do with infants. There is in it no command addressed to them, nor is any act, either of mind or body, required of them in order to their salvation. They are no more required to believe than they are to be baptized. They are saved without either. You are required to do both. To _you_, God says _believe_ and be baptized. You profess to have _believed_, but you have never made the slightest effort to be baptized. What was done to you in infancy, without your knowledge or assent, was no _act of yours_. You are still living in open disobedience to this law. Jesus Christ did not command _your parents_ to _have you_ baptized—putting the responsibility on them, but he commanded _you_ to be baptized for yourself; and that not _before_ you believed, but _afterward_: ‘He that believeth, and [then] is baptized, shall be saved.’”

“It seems to me, Mr. Courtney,” said the pastor, “that you are rather early in your application of the subject. We have granted, indeed, that the authority for infant baptism is not in the commission by which we are directed to baptize adult believers, but it may be found elsewhere. A recent writer on this subject, the Rev. Dr. Summers, has very expressively said: ‘That the New Testament ABOUNDS with the proofs of infant baptism.’”

“Then, sir, it will be very easy to find at least _one text_ which teaches it.”

“Certainly it will, not only one, but many.”

“But I only ask for _one_; and if you have several, give me that first which you most rely upon.”

“Well, sir, you have the Testament in your hand, please turn to Matthew xix. 13, 14: ‘Then were brought unto him little children, that he should put his hands upon them, and pray. And the disciples rebuked them. But Jesus said, suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of Heaven.’ Do you not see some authority for infant baptism in that?”

“Indeed, sir, I cannot—can you?”

“Yes, truly. It is to my mind perfectly satisfactory. And I do not see how it can fail to convince any candid man who reads it.”

“Your mind, Mr. Johnson, must be easily satisfied then, for I can’t see _one word_ about baptism in it.”

“Oh! I do not say that baptism is _expressly named_ in it; but, sir, the _inference_ is irresistible, that these children were brought _to be baptized_, and that the people were accustomed to bring their children for that purpose, and that Jesus commanded his disciples _never to forbid it_, as you, Baptists, have done, but to suffer the little children to come to him, and make a part of his visible church.”

“Is it possible! Pardon me, Mr. Johnson, if I say, that to my mind there can be no inference about the object or purpose for which these children were brought, because _it is expressly and very definitely stated in the text_. They brought them, that he should _lay his hands on them, and pray_. This was all they came for, and this was all he did. He did not baptize them. He did not command them to be baptized. He merely (verse 15th) ‘laid his hands on them, and departed.’ But there is an irresistible inference that I draw from this text, and that is, that _the disciples had never been accustomed to infant baptism_. If they had been in the habit of _baptizing_ children, they could never have objected to their coming to _be blessed_ by Jesus. They would have regarded it as a thing of course. But if they had, like the Baptist Churches, received _only adults_, and them only on repentance and profession of faith, it was not at all strange that they should reprove those who brought the little children, who could not believe And there was a beautiful propriety in the lesson which Jesus taught them, viz.: that though children were _not to be baptized_, and were not members of his church, yet they were to be objects of _intense interest_ and deep solicitude to his people. Though they were not to be baptized, _they were to be prayed for_. Parents, therefore, ought to bring their little children to Christ by _faith and prayer_, for that he has commanded, but _not_ by baptism, for that he has forbidden, by requiring those who are baptized first to believe.”

“But you cannot deny, Mr. Courtney, that by the kingdom of heaven, in this passage, is meant the _visible church_, and that Jesus expressly mentions children as members of it?”

“Indeed, Mr. Johnson, he mentions no such thing. It does not matter at all whether the kingdom of heaven means the church visible or invisible. He does _not_ say that children are members of it, but that _its members are like children_. He does _not_ say his church is composed of children, but of _such_ as are _like_ children. For in the corresponding passage in Luke and Mark, he goes right on, and explains by saying, ‘Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child, shall in no case enter therein.’ Mr. Barnes, in his Notes on this text, says: ‘Of such as these—that is, of persons with such tempers as these—is the church to be composed. He does not say _of those infants_, but of such as resembled them, or were like them in temper, was the kingdom of heaven made up. It was proper, therefore, that he should pray for them.’—_Notes, in loc._ Olshausen, of whose Commentary, Kitto, a brother Pedobaptist of his and yours, declares that it is, on the New Testament, the best now in existence—Olshausen says on this text: ‘For entering into the kingdom of God, there is enjoined that child-like feeling which enables us most easily to discern the gifts which have been bestowed upon each, and, consequently, puts us in circumstances to fulfill our calling.’ He goes on to say: ‘Of that reference to infant baptism, which it is so common to seek for in this passage, there is clearly _not the slightest trace to be found_.’ And Bishop Taylor, another eminent Pedobaptist, says, in substance, that ‘to rely upon this text as proof of infant baptism, proves nothing so much as the want of a better argument.’”

“I think, Mr. Johnson,” said Professor Jones, “that we had better, for the present at least, let this passage stand aside. It certainly gives no _direct_ testimony in our favor, and even the inferential is somewhat doubtful. We can afford to let it go, as you know we have many others, about the meaning of which there can be no question. Let us take this, for instance, Acts xi. 38, 39: ‘Repent and be baptized, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ, for the remission of sins. And ye shall receive the gift of the Holy Ghost, for the promise is unto you _and to your children_, and to all that are afar off, even as many as the Lord our God shall call.’ Here, most undoubtedly, the parents and children are both included, and that so expressly and plainly, as to leave no room for even the shadow of a doubt.”

“That is, indeed,” replied Mr. Johnson, “one of the strongest passages, if it be not the very strongest that we have.”

“And yet,” said Mr. Courtney, “it has not, in fact, the very _slightest value_ in favor of your faith or practice, but, on the contrary, furnishes at least a very strong _inference_ against them; for if infant baptism was either recognized or practiced, it is incredible that Peter should not have said, ‘Be baptized,’ not only ‘every one of you,’ but you and your children. All that is said of baptism, is only to those who are commanded to repent. Those who are commanded to be baptized, are _first_ commanded to _repent_; and none are to be baptized but those who _have repented_—not the penitents _and their children_.”

“True, Mr. Courtney; but you forget the last part of the text: ‘the promise is to you and your children.’”

“The promise of what? Mr. Johnson. What promise is Peter speaking of? Evidently that in the Prophet Joel: ‘It shall come to pass in the last days I will pour out my Spirit,’ etc. On the faith of this promise, Peter says: ‘Repent and be baptized, every one of you, and you shall receive the Holy Ghost. For this promise (that is, of the Holy Ghost,) is unto you and to your children, and to all that are afar off’ etc. It was no promise of baptism, but the promise of something that should _follow_ their repentance and baptism. But even if the promise _did_ refer to baptism, the subjects of it were not _infants_, for its application is expressly limited to those who can be _called_ into the repentance and faith of the Gospel: ‘Even as many as the Lord our God _shall call_,’ (and no more). Does God call little unconscious infants? If not, then they are not the persons spoken of.”

“What, then, do you think is the meaning of the word children?”

“Simply their descendants. In the next chapter, Peter says to these same people, who were all grown men and women: ‘_Ye_ are the _children_ of the prophets.’ And nothing is more common in the Scriptures than to speak of the Jewish nation as children of Israel. They were not a nation of babies, nevertheless.

“But even granting, for the sake of argument, that it was _little_ children—infants—that were spoken of, then if they were to be _baptized_ without repentance and faith in Christ, so also are all the aliens and idolators among the Gentiles, for they are included in the term ‘all that are afar off.’ And there is the same authority to baptize these as the children. They are equally included in the ‘promise:’ ‘You and your children, _and all that are afar off_’ Unless you will admit the promise thus to embrace ‘all the world, and the rest of mankind,’ you must limit it, as Peter did, by confining it to those ‘of you,’ and of ‘your children,’ and of the Gentiles _whom the Lord our God shall call_. If, therefore, this is the strongest, or one of the strongest passages you have, your case is a desperate one indeed. The text contains a command and a promise. It commands men _first_ to _repent_, and then to be baptized—just as Jesus commands them _first_ to _believe_, and then to be baptized. And, of course, unless unconscious infants can repent and believe, they cannot be baptized. Then it promises the ‘gift of the Holy Ghost’ to those who _have_ thus _repented_ and _been baptized_: for Peter makes this the condition of their receiving it: ‘Repent and be baptized, and ye shall receive the gift.’ And as _they_ might receive the _gift_ of the Spirit on these terms, viz.: baptism and repentance, so might their _descendants_, and so might even the idolatrous _Gentiles_, who were now afar off—even as many of them as the Lord our God should call.”

“That is indeed entirely satisfactory,” said Professor Jones, “and I am only surprised that I did not see it in that light before. But the truth is, because I saw _baptized_ in one part of the passage, and children in another part, I took it for granted (since it was one of the proof-texts quoted in our confession of faith) that it was the _children_ who were to be baptized. I see now that it was only those who repented; and I am ready candidly to acknowledge that there is no authority for infant baptism in _this_ text, but there are surely many others.”

“Oh, yes,” said Mr. Courtney, “you know ‘the New Testament _abounds_ with proof of infant baptism.’ And if you will turn to 1st Cor. vii. 14, you will find one which has been relied upon even more confidently than the one we have just disposed of: ‘For the unbelieving husband is sanctified by the wife, and the unbelieving wife is sanctified by the husband; else were your children unclean, but now are they holy.’”

“Well, I should like to see how you will set aside a passage so plain and appropriate as that is,” said Mr. Johnson.

“I simply say,” rejoined Mr. Courtney, “that there is not _one word_ in it about baptism, either of infants or adults. It has not only no mention of baptism, but not even the most distant _allusion_ to it, direct or indirect.”

“Why, sir, does it not say that the children of but one believing parent are _holy_? and if they are _holy_, are they not fit subjects for baptism?”

“You know,” replied Mr. Courtney, “that the words _holy_ and _sanctified_, among the Jews, were used in a physical or ceremonial sense, as well as in a moral sense. If the Apostle used them here in a _moral_ sense, he stated what _was not true_, for in this sense the infidel husband or the infidel wife _was not made holy_ by the other’s faith. The faith of the husband did not make a _saint_ of his wife, nor did the faith of the wife make a _saint_ of her idolatrous husband. They might have been, and doubtless often were more sinful afterward than before the other party was converted. Nor does the faith of _both parents combined render their children holy_, in this sense of the word: for you know and every other man knows, that the children of believers _grow up in sin, and need to be converted_, just as much as the children of unbelievers; and without such conversion, will just as surely be lost as the children of the vilest. Did David’s faith take the incestuous Ammon and murderous Absalom to heaven? You and your wives are both believers: are _your_ children, in this sense, holier than other children? Do you not daily pray for God’s converting grace to _make_ them holy? It is evident, therefore, that the words sanctified and holy (which are equivalent terms) must here be understood in their other sense. The expression is indeed one of those _Hebraisms_ in which Paul abounds. Its real meaning is very clearly stated by one of your best Presbyterian Commentators, Dr. McKnight—for more than twenty years the Moderator of the Presbyterian General Assembly of Scotland:

“‘I think, therefore,’ says he, ‘with Elsner, that the words in this verse have neither a federal nor a moral meaning, but are used in the idiom of the Hebrews, who by _sanctified_ understood what was fitted for a particular use, and by _unclean_ what was unfit for use, and therefore was to be cast away. In that sense the Apostle, speaking of _meat_, says, 1 Tim. iv. 5, _It is sanctified_ (that is, fitted for your use) _by the Word of God and prayer_. Ver. iv. _Every creature of God_ (fit for food) is _good, and nothing_ fit for food is _to be cast away_ as unclean. The terms of the verses, thus understood, have a _rational_ meaning, namely, that when infidels are married to Christians, if they have a strong affection for their Christian spouses, they are thereby _sanctified_ to them—they are fitted to continue married to them; because their affection to the Christian party will insure to that party the faithful performance of every duty; and that if the marriages of Christians and infidels were dissolved, they would cast away their children as _unclean_—that is, by losing their affection for them, they would expose them, after the barbarous custom of the Greeks, or at least neglect their education; but by continuing their marriages, their children are _holy_; they are preserved as sacred pledges of their mutual love and educated with care.’

“Hence he thus paraphrases the text:—‘For the infidel husband is sanctified—is fitted to remain married to the believing wife by his affection for her; and the infidel wife is sanctified to the believing husband by her affection for him; otherwise certainly your children would be by you neglected as unclean, whereas indeed they are clean; they are the objects of your affection and care.’”

“I do not know,” said Mr. Johnson, “that we are bound to admit Dr. McKnight’s exposition of this passage merely because he was a Presbyterian.”

“Certainly not; but one would naturally suppose that if there were any infant baptism in the passage, a learned and eminent Presbyterian Doctor of Divinity would be the man to find it. Perhaps _you_ can show it to be there, though _he_ could not.”

“I do not say, Mr. Courtney, that infant baptism is _commanded_ in this passage, but only that it is _recognized_. These children were not _morally_ holy—that is self-evident. Yet they are called (‘_agia_’) holy, by the same term which is sometimes used to designate the _saints_; that is, the members of the church. Therefore, they must have been church members; and as none were church members but those who had been _baptized_, it follows that they must have been baptized. That is what I call a demonstration.”

“And if it be so,” replied Mr. Courtney, “then the infidel wife and the infidel husband had also been baptized, and were members of the church, for they are called (_hagiarai_) ‘sanctified,’ the same term which in this epistle (1st chapter and 2d verse) is applied to the members of the church: ‘To them that are _sanctified_ in Jesus Christ, called to be saints,’ etc. And again, in the 6th chapter and 11th verse, ‘But ye are washed, ye are _sanctified_; but ye are justified in Christ,’ etc. These _sanctified_ ones called to be saints, and these _sanctified_ ones who were washed and justified in Christ, were, most undoubtedly, members of the Corinthian Church. It was as such that Paul addressed them; and as the same term (_sanctified_) is applied to the infidel and idolatrous husband and wife who had a believing companion, it follows, of course, that, infidel and idolatrous as they were, they _must_ have been members of the church; and as none are church members but those who have been baptized, they must certainly have been baptized. That is what _I call_, not a demonstration, but a palpable absurdity; yet it stands _precisely_ upon the same ground with your demonstration.”

“We must give it up, Mr. Johnson,” said the Professor, “at least so far as this text is concerned, for if it proves any thing, it proves _too much_. It will be better for us to give up the children than to take the unbelieving and idolatrous adults. If we ground our practice of baptizing infants on _this passage_, we must baptize the unbelieving _wife_ on the faith of her husband, and the unbelieving husband on the faith of his wife, as well as their children on the faith of either. This we have never done, and would not dare to do, so we must look for some other passage to sustain our views.”

“Not quite yet,” said Mr. Courtney, smiling; “I have wrested this weapon out of your hands, and I will now turn it against you.

“I will prove, _by this very passage_, that there was no such thing as infant baptism known in the Corinthian Church, or in the mind of Paul, when he was writing to them; but that, on the contrary, the Corinthian, and, of course, all the other churches of that day, were _Baptist Churches_, in which neither the _children_, nor the unbelieving companions of believers, were baptized, or in any sense regarded as church members. If the unbelieving husband or wife had been baptized and made a member of the church, the question to which the Apostle is evidently replying could never have been asked. The Jews, as we learn from Ezra x. 3, were not permitted to continue in the marriage relation with their Gentile wives. Now the question had come up in the Corinthian Church whether a _Christian_ should not, under a similar regulation, separate from an unbelieving and idolatrous companion. But if such unbelieving consorts were by _the other’s faith entitled to church membership_, and had, consequently, been baptized, such a thing as separation on this ground would never have been thought of. It is evident, therefore, that the infidel husband or the infidel wife were not baptized or made church members. There is in the Scriptures not the slightest allusion to any such church _members_ made by the faith of _others_, and not by their own. These persons were, therefore, in every sense, outsiders. They had no more connection with the church than any other heathens had. But the Apostle says to their Christian companions, You have no more reason to discard them on this account than church members have to discard _their children_, for they are also unbelievers, and without the pale of the church. The unbelieving husband and the unbelieving wife, and your children, not their children, stand in the same category. They are all without the church—all unbaptized—and thus far, all equally unfit associates. But as your children, though not in the church, are _holy to you_—that is, fit to associate with, so is the unbelieving husband or the unbelieving wife, although they are also out of the church.

“That this is the sense in which the Apostle uses the terms sanctified, and holy, and unclean, is evident from the fact, that this is the _only_ sense in which what he says of the parties can be _true_, and this sense corresponds perfectly with the common Scripture usage of the words. Those things and persons among the Jews were called _unclean_ which a holy person might not lawfully touch, use, or associate with. It seems, from Gal. ii. 12, that they considered it very criminal to associate or eat with Gentiles. Peter, it seems, had the opinion that only certain _food_ was fit to eat, and that all other was unclean. And he said: ‘Lord, nothing common or unclean hath at any time entered into my mouth.’ And Paul, 2 Cor. vi. 17, says, quoting from Isaiah: ‘Come out from among them, and be ye separate, and touch not the unclean thing,’ or, more properly, ‘touch no _unclean_ person,’ ‘and I will receive you,’ etc. Things unfit for holy persons to use were, Therefore, to them said to be _unclean_. Food which such persons might not eat, was called unclean food. And persons which they might not associate with, were called unclean persons. In this sense, therefore, neither the unbelieving children, nor the unbelieving husband, nor the unbelieving wife, were to be regarded as unclean. They were all equally sanctified—fit for the companionship and affection of their believing parents and consorts.”

“That is all plain enough, Mr. Courtney; but I do not see what it has to do with infant baptism.”

“Simply this. The infidel consorts of believers were not church members—they had not been baptized. When Paul was asked by the church, if the believing husbands and wives must separate from such, he says no; it is as lawful for them to live together as it is for _you_ to live with _your children_. But your children are _holy_ [fit associates] to you, and so their companions are _sanctified_ [fit associates] to _them_. Now there was no force or propriety in the comparison, unless the children were in circumstances similar to the unbelieving consorts—that is, they must _all_ have been alike out of the church, and _all unbaptized_; and if the children of believing parents were unbaptized, it was a Baptist Church; and if the church at Corinth was a Baptist Church, then all the churches planted by the apostles were Baptist Churches.”

“I do not feel inclined to grant all that,” said Mr. Johnson, “but we have wasted too much time on this text already; let us proceed. But I see it is of no use to argue with you, for you are disposed to construe every passage so differently from what we have been accustomed to consider their true meaning, that the most conclusive texts have no weight with you whatever.”

“But pardon me, Mr. Johnson; do I not construe them according to the natural and necessary meaning of the language? I appeal to Professor Jones to say if I have shown any disposition to present any other than the straightforward and obvious sense of the passages which we have examined.”

“I begin to think,” rejoined the pastor, “that my brother Jones is himself more than half a Baptist, which accounts for his being so easily convinced.”

“Not at all, Mr. Johnson. I was very desirous to find infant baptism in the Scriptures; I confidently believed it was there; I expected we could have pointed to it without the slightest difficulty; but I acknowledge that I can’t see the slightest trace of it in these proof texts which our church has been so accustomed to rely upon. But though we have no _command_ to practice it, we have authority which is quite equivalent, and that is the _practice_ of the Apostles.”

“Certainly,” said Mr. Johnson, “I did not expect to find any such absolute command as could not be explained away. It is chiefly on the examples that we rely.”

“I hope, Mr. Johnson, you will do me the justice to acknowledge that I have not explained away any command to baptize infants. I am sure I would not willingly even attempt to explain away any command of Jesus Christ, or his Apostles, on this or any other subject. I asked you to show me a command to _baptize infants_, and you pointed to the commission as a command to baptize those who are the _believing_ disciples of Jesus. You pointed, then, to an incidental command, to let the children come to Christ, that he might lay his hands on them and bless them. But as the children were not in the other command, so the baptism was not in this. It was not for baptism, but for quite another purpose that he bade them to come. You pointed then to a command and promise given through Peter, but the command was _Repent_, and _then_ be baptized, which, of course, excluded infants. And the promise was not a promise of _baptism_, but of the gift of the Holy Ghost to those whom _God should call_ to repentance, faith, and baptism, which excluded infants from the promise as well as the command. You then pointed to the place which we have last examined, which certainly contains not even the shadow of a command to baptize infants; and so far as it teaches any thing upon the subject, teaches that they were no more to be baptized on the faith of their parents than unbelieving husbands are upon the faith of their wives. You have not found the commandment, because it is not there; I do not like to discourage you, but I assure you, you cannot find the _example_ for the very same reason. This has been conceded, over and over again, by the most learned and most zealous advocates of infant baptism. They rest it on different grounds.

“Dr. Wall, the most eminent of them all, distinctly declares: ‘Among all the persons that are recorded as baptized by the Apostles, there is no express mention of any infants.’

“Bishop Burnet says: ‘There is no express precept or rule given in the New Testament for the baptism of infants.’

“Richard Baxter says: ‘I conclude that all the examples of baptism in the Scripture do mention only the administration of it to the professors of saving faith; and the precepts give no other direction.’

“Martin Luther, the great reformer, says: ‘It cannot be proved that infant baptism was instituted by Christ, or by the first Christians after the Apostles.’

“Erasmus, another of the Reformers, says in his Notes on Rom. vi. 14: ‘The Apostle does not seem to treat of infants. It was not the custom for infants to be baptized.’

“Olshansen, the famous Pedobaptist commentator, says: ‘There is altogether wanting any conclusive proof passage for the baptism of children in the age of the Apostles, nor can the necessity of it be deduced from the nature of baptism.’

“Limbroch, another distinguished Pedobaptist professor of theology, and the author of a ‘System of Divinity,’ says: ‘There is no express command for it in the Scriptures. Nay, all those passages wherein baptism is commanded, do immediately relate to _adult_ persons, since they are ordered to be instructed, and faith is a prerequisite as a necessary qualification.’ And again: ‘The necessity of infant baptism was never asserted on any council before that of Carthage, held A. D. 418. We own that there is no precept, nor undoubted instance in Scripture of infant baptism.’

“Dr. Hanna, editor of the North British Review, says: ‘The baptismal service [of the English church] is founded upon Scripture, but its application to unconscious infants is destitute of any express Scriptural warrant. Scripture knows nothing of the baptism of infants.’

“Dr. Knapp says: ‘There is no decisive example of infant baptism in the Scriptures.’

“Neander, the great Pedobaptist historian, says: ‘It is certain that Christ did not ordain infant baptism.’

“Even your Presbyterian Doctor Miller, of Princeton Theological Seminary, says: ‘The fact is, that during the whole threescore years after the ascension of Christ, which is embraced in the New Testament history, we have no hint of the baptism of infants born of Christian parents.’

“So says your able defender, Professor Moses Stuart: ‘Commands, or plain and certain examples relative to it in the New Testament, I do not find.’

“So says also your other celebrated writer on this subject, Dr. Leonard Woods: ‘The New Testament is silent respecting the subject of infant baptism.’ ‘It is evident that infant baptism is not introduced as a subject of particular discussion. It is neither explicitly enjoined or prohibited, and neither is the practice of baptizing children, nor the absence of it, expressly mentioned.”’

“I declare, Mr. Courtney,” said the Professor, “this is very discouraging. If such men as these, all of whom are on our side of this controversy, and all members of churches that are in the habit of baptizing infants—most, if not all of whom, received their own baptism in infancy—many of whom were eminent ministers, and in the habit themselves of baptizing infants—and some of the most eminent of whom were _authors_, who, like Stuart, and Miller, and Wood, wrote expressly upon this subject—if such men cannot find the ‘command,’ or the ‘example,’ it seems hardly worth while for _us_ to look for it.”

“I do not know,” said Mr. Johnson, “what they considered a plain command, or an undoubted example, but I conceive that these statements which Mr. Courtney has quoted so glibly, were (to say the least) very ‘_unguarded expressions_,’ which were by no means justified from the facts in the case. I grant that there is no express _command_, but there are many examples, with, if not plain enough to satisfy _Baptists_, are such as will satisfy any candid inquirer after the truth.”

“I only ask you, gentlemen,” said Mr. Courtney, “to show me one which you will YOURSELVES _say is an undoubted case_, after we have examined the testimony. I only ask you to show me one which your own theological writers and teachers will agree upon as an undoubted case—or one which they will all agree upon as even a _probable_ case. I do not wish to dissuade you from the attempt, but you could not find _one single solitary instance_ if your very lives depended on the effort.”

“Certainly, Mr. Courtney,” said the pastor, “you are speaking without due reflection, for you must know perfectly well that such examples are as numerous as the household baptisms recorded in the Acts or referred to in the Epistles.”

“Not at all,” said Mr. Courtney. “I understand what I am saying, and I desire to be distinctly understood to mean that as there is not (as we have already seen) any _command_, so neither is there a solitary _example_, either among the _‘households’ or any where else_, in which baptism was administered either to an infant or to any one else who did not first profess faith or repentance. From the first of Matthew to the end of Revelations, you may examine every passage in which baptism is mentioned or alluded to, and you not only will find no infant plainly spoken of as baptized, but you will not find so much as an allusion to any such a class as the ‘Baptized children of the church.’”

“Surely,” replied Professor Jones, “you must be mistaken in this. I am sure I have always thought that there was no more doubt about the Scriptures teaching infant baptism, than about their teaching the divinity of Jesus Christ. I am certain it must be somewhere in the Scriptures.”

“Many people are certain that things are in the Scriptures that neither they nor any body else can find there,” said Mr. Courtney. “Your Doctors of Divinity have told you it was there, and you took it for granted that they told you the truth. But if it is there, _you_ can find it and _show_ it to me. And ever afterward you will know how to _give a reason_ for the faith that is in you on this subject.”

“But Mr. Courtney, we have not time to read over the whole Bible to-night, to see if there is not some case mentioned; and if we do not, we may overlook some case.”

“That is not necessary. Your Doctors of Divinity have done it for you; and if they have found any case that had even the remotest squinting toward infant baptism, they have paraded it before the world. Your pastor here is doubtless perfectly familiar with every case that has the slightest bearing upon the subject, and which presents even the shadow of a proof in favor of the practice of your churches. But if you doubt his information, or if he is unwilling to trust to his memory in the case, suppose you take a Concordance, and refer to _every place_ where baptism is mentioned. Here is Butterworth’s Concordance. It will doubtless mention every place where the words occur; and we can thus test the matter at once.”

“Certainly,” said the pastor. “I greatly prefer that to a reliance upon my own memory; for though I can without any hesitation refer you to several examples, as in the cases of Lydia, and the jailer, and Stephanus, and Cornelius; yet as I might forget some place, I would leave our defence less perfect than I desire.”

“We will then work by the Concordance, and will come to each of those cases in their proper order,” said the Professor.

“Very good,” said the schoolmaster. “Now what is the first place?”

“It is,” said the pastor, “Matthew iii. 7—‘John saw many of the Pharisees and Sadducees come to his baptism.’ We must admit there were no infants there, but then you know we do not consider John’s baptism to be Christian baptism, which was not practiced till after the death of Christ; and so it does not matter who John baptized, or what class of persons were baptized before the ascension of the Saviour, as it was only then that _Christian_ baptism, properly so-called, began to be administered. I am willing to grant, therefore, that there was no mention made of the baptism of any infant until after that time.”

“That will,” said Mr. Courtney, “save us considerable trouble—but it will deprive me of the advantage of at least one very convincing argument against any inference for infant baptism. I think I could easily prove to you that not only John’s baptism, but Christ’s baptism (I mean that which is _called his_, though John says Jesus himself baptized not, but his disciples), was just the same baptism which _He_ commanded after his death—and that since John required repentance and works meet for repentance as preliminary to _his_ baptism, and Christ is expressly said to have first _made disciples of_ those whom _he baptized_ (John iv. 1), unconscious infants were of necessity excluded, and would be, as a matter of course, _considered as excluded_ until an express command was given to include them. But we will pass it by, and the first case of baptism that comes up after the commission had, in your view, fully established the Christian ordinance, was that on the day of Pentecost, Acts 2d chapter. Suppose, Mr. Johnson, you just turn to the chapter, and see if you can find any thing about infants there.”

“Oh, no. We do not pretend,” said the pastor, “that those three thousand were any of them infants, or even children. There were evidently none among them who could not understand the preaching of Peter and the rest, for they _gladly_ received his word (41st verse) before they were baptized, and continued steadfastly in the Apostles’ doctrine and fellowship afterward. They were all adults, and we must admit also that they were all professed believers.”

“Very well,” said Mr. Courtney; “then we will go on to the next case; but I cannot help remarking by the way that it is _very extraordinary_ if they ever baptized infants in those days—if they were considered as included in the commission. I say it is _very remarkable_ that all these three thousand should have been old bachelors or old maids, or, to say the least, all unmarried, or if married, all childless. Yet such must have been the case, for not a word is said about the _duty_ of bringing their children for baptism—nor among them all was there a single one who brought his little ones that they might be baptized at the same time with his parent. I have been present several times when a number of persons joined _your_ society, and there were always among them more or less who brought their children with them. I do not suppose that you ever recorded in your church the baptism of twenty adults, but that they brought some children with them, yet you pretend that the Apostles practiced infant baptism as you do, and still admit that here are three thousand adults and not a single child—but go on to your next case.”

“It is,” said the pastor, who glanced at the Concordance, Acts viii. 12: “‘But when they (the people of Samaria) believed Philip preaching the things concerning the kingdom of God, and the name of Jesus Christ, they were baptized.’”

“It seems, then,” said Mr. C., “that these were adults too; for they were able to hear preaching, and exercise faith. They believed the preaching before they were baptized, and none were baptized who did not first believe. But you did not read all the verse: does it not go on to say, that they were baptized, both the men, the women, _and their children_?”

“No,” said Mr. Johnson, with a very perceptible degree of petulance in his tone, “it only says, ‘both men and women.’”

“So then, here is another case, where a large company of men and women were baptized, not one of whom were heads of families. It is _very remarkable_, for if the Apostles taught and practiced infant baptism, Philip had doubtless instructed them that ‘_it was their duty and their privilege_’ to bring their infant children into the kingdom with themselves. This is what _you_ teach, and this is what _your converts_ do. If Philip taught as you do, his converts were a ‘peculiar people’ truly. But let us pass on to the next case, which was that of Simon the magician, in the next verse; but as you won’t imagine any infant baptism there, we may pass to the next.”

“That was,” said the pastor, “the case of the Ethiopian Eunuch (Acts viii. 13); and the next that of Saul (Acts ix. 18); and the next that of Cornelius and his friends, which I have sometimes considered as a case of household baptism, but on examination I do not see that there is any mention of infants (Acts x. 47).”

“Please read it, Mr. Johnson,” said Professor Jones. “I have, I am sure, always looked upon this as one of the proof passages.”

“I had such an impression myself,” said the pastor, “but I see it cannot be relied upon. ‘Can any man forbid water that these should not be baptized _who have received the Holy Ghost as well as we_? And he commanded them to be baptized.’ Now it is true that Cornelius had a _family_, and he had called together his kinsmen and near friends; and it seems _most likely_ that there would have been among them some children, but still it does not seem absolutely certain. It is, I should say, a _probable_ case, but I do not present it as a certain one.”

“How _can_ you, Mr. Johnson, I was ready to say how _dare_ you, as a minister of the Gospel of truth, even pretend that there is any _doubt_ about the case at all? Could little infants in their mothers’ arms ‘receive the Holy Ghost,’ and ‘speak with tongues,’ and ‘magnify God,’ as these are said to have done in the 44th and 46th verses! The _persons_, and the _only_ persons, who were commanded to be baptized, were those who spake with tongues and magnified God. And it was on this evidence, and only on this evidence, that ‘God had granted repentance unto the Gentiles,’ that they were admitted to baptism at all. He who could see a probable infant baptism in this, might see it just as well, it seems to me, in the baptism of the three thousand who received the word with gladness, on the day of Pentecost; or the five thousand who received it a few days after; or in the case of the Samaritans, who believed in the Gospel preached by Philip. If _they_ heard, repented, and believed, _these_ did all that and more, for they received the miraculous influences of the Holy Ghost _before_ their baptism; whereas the others received them _after_ it, when they received them at all. These did all that those did, and moreover spake with tongues, and ‘magnified God,’ and yet _you talk about their being unconscious infants_.”

“Oh, well,” said the pastor, “you have no need to become so eloquently indignant. I said I was willing to pass by this case. I will admit that it is not even a _probable_ instance, if that will satisfy you. We shall find certain ones enough, so we can afford to be liberal in this. You will not be able, I trust, to dispose so easily of the next, which is the baptism of Lydia, Acts xvi. 15—‘And of _her household_;’ which, as a matter of course, would have some children in it.”

“I do not see how Lydia’s household should necessarily have children in it. I am acquainted with several households in this town that have no infants in them. You have none in yours. You have children, but none too young to repent and believe, make credible profession of their faith, and lead a Christian life; and if you should all be convinced, in the revival which I believe God is now beginning to send upon our little Baptist church, that you have never been baptized—and should all give us satisfactory evidence of true piety—we would gladly do for you just what Paul did for Lydia. We would baptize _you and your household_; but you would not insist that we had baptized any unconscious babe.”

“But, Mr. Courtney, you must admit the principle that the ‘household was baptized on the faith of its head.’ Lydia _believed_, and she _and her household_ were baptized. Now, whether they were large or small, they must have been baptized on their mother’s faith.”

“No, Mr. Johnson; it is that principle which I especially condemn and deny. What I say is this—No one under the Gospel is to be baptized, or to be regarded as in _any sense_ a member of Christ’s church, or to enjoy any of the privileges of that church, _who has not first repented and believed for himself_, and in his own proper person: and if you will _show_ me _any case_ where any one, either old or young, male or female, bond or free, adult or infant, was by the Apostles baptized, who had not first given evidence of his repentance, faith, and conversion, then I admit you have gained your point. I grant that Simon Magus was baptized while yet unconverted but not before he _professed to be_, and gave such evidence as was satisfactory at the time. For Luke says Simon also _believed_ and was baptized. Now Lydia was baptized and her household was baptized; but there is no evidence that her household were children. There is no proof even that she was married, or ever had been. She may or may not have had a husband; she may or may not have had children; she may have been a widow, or she may have been an old maid. The record says not a word on these points. It only says that her name was Lydia—that she came from a distant city, called Thyatira—that she was engaged in the business of selling purple, which we know, from other sources, was a very respectable and profitable employment. We learn, also, that she was keeping house, and living in such a comfortable way that she could afford to give the Apostle and his companions a home at her house during their stay. It appears also that she had a family (_oikos_), but whether they were children or servants, or both, is not declared; but _one_ thing is certain, whether they were her offspring or servants, they were _grown men_, for in the end of this same chapter (verse 40) we read that as soon as Paul and Silas were liberated they _returned to the house of Lydia and saw the brethren and comforted them_. They were therefore men, who could be comforted, and not little children. They were also believers, for otherwise they would not be called brethren.

“Hence the celebrated commentator, Dr. Adam Clarke, very properly remarks: ‘_She attended unto the things._’ ‘She believed them and received them as the doctrines of God, and in this faith she was joined by her whole family, and in it they were all baptized.’ And again—‘The first members of the church of Christ, at this place, were Lydia and her family, and the next in all probability were the jailer and his family.’

“So far, therefore, from being certain or even probable that the household of Lydia were infants, it is placed past all doubt by the Scripture itself, that they were _men and brethren_, who believed and were baptized; for though their _faith_ is not specially mentioned, yet it is necessarily implied by the calling of them brethren.”

“But is it certain, Mr. Courtney, that these _brethren_ were the same who composed Lydia’s family? Might they not have come in there merely to meet the Apostle?”

“No, Mr. Johnson; Lydia and her family were the _only_ converts until the Apostle was arrested and thrown into prison. While there, the jailer and his family were converted, and these two families were all the followers of Christ—_all the brethren_ that were in the place. But those at the jailer’s house Paul and Silas had just left, when they came to Lydia’s house, and saw and comforted the brethren there.”

“I think, Mr. Johnson,” said Professor Jones, “that we may as well let this case go. We can afford to do it, as we have so many others. And it evidently, so far from aiding us, testifies directly against us. The same difficulties cannot exist in that of the jailer and his family, recorded in the same chapter. I have always heard that referred to as a most undoubted example.”

“Yes,” said the pastor. “The jailer was a man in the prime of life, as is evident from the impulsive character of his behavior. He drew his sword, called for a light, and he _sprang_ in, which indicates that he was a man of activity and energy. Now such a man would be almost certain, if he had a family at all, to have among them some little children. I consider, therefore, that this is an unquestionable case. The evidence amounts almost to an absolute demonstration.”

“It is a great pity,” said Mr. Courtney, “to spoil such a beautiful and perfect demonstration; and if we had time, I would spare it for a few minutes, that we might at our leisure admire its beauty and its ingenuity. But as we probably have several other places to examine, we cannot afford to trifle over this. You read, in verse 33, that ‘he was baptized, he _and all his_, straightway.’ Now you say that ‘all his’ must include one or more infants. I only reply, that if so, they were infants who could _hear_ the preaching of the gospel, and could _believe_ it and _rejoice_ in God. For, verse 32, Paul _preached_ to him and _all his_. And, in verse 34, he rejoiced, believing in God, _with all his house_. Now, there is not in the record the slightest intimation that there was a child on the premises. There was a _family_, but whether of adults or children, servants or relations, is not said; but it _is_ said, that they all _heard_ the Word, all _believed_, and all _rejoiced_, just as certainly as they were all _baptized_. There is the same testimony of the hearing, believing, and rejoicing as of the baptism. The Baptists will baptize all the children in town, if they will come to them believing and rejoicing in God—not, however, on their parents’ faith, but on their own. Your next case is in the 18th chapter, is it not?”

“Yes,” said the pastor (glancing at the Concordance which he still held in his hand), “and the 8th verse. ‘And Crispus, the chief ruler of the synagogue, believed on the Lord, with all his house. And many of the Corinthians hearing, believed, and were baptized.’”

“Does it not say that their children were baptized with them on the faith of their parents?”

“I read the whole text,” replied the pastor, gruffly.

“Then you must consider it a _very_ remarkable text,” said Mr. Courtney, “for it declares that among these _many_ Corinthians, there was not a man or woman who had an unconverted child; for if there had been one, it would, if Paul had taught as _you_ do, have been brought up for baptism. These early Christians were strange people. There were three thousand of them at one time, five thousand a few days after in Jerusalem, a great multitude in Samaria, and many more here in Corinth—_all childless_; for it is incredible that _if they had children_, and had been instructed that ‘_it was their duty and their privilege_’ to have them baptized, that _some_ of them would not have done it. Nay, all of them _must have_ done it, or have stood in open _disobedience_ to the requirements of the Gospel. We read of their believing, of their rejoicing, of their breaking of bread, of their assembling for worship, of their ministering to the saints—but never a word of their bringing their little children to be baptized. They evidently did not obey this command, if any such command was given them. And there is never an intimation of any reproof of such inexcusable disobedience.”

“I must say, Mr. Courtney,” rejoined the pastor, “that you are the most unreasonable man I ever tried to argue with. I have given you, at least, two plain and unquestionable instances in which the _families were baptized with the parents_, and yet you say that out of these eight or ten thousand converts, there is not _one_ who had his children baptized. To use an expression of your own, I do not see how you can _dare_ thus to trifle with the Word of God!”

“I know, Mr. Johnson, that you gave us cases where _families_ were baptized, and you can give us more; but you have not shown that these _families contained a single infant child_, and _that is the point on which the whole argument turns_. I reply to you in the language of you own Pedobaptist historian, the celebrated and acute Neander: ‘We cannot prove that the Apostles ordained infant baptism, from those places where the baptism of a whole family is mentioned, as in Acts xvi. 33; 1 Cor. i. 16. We can draw no such conclusion, because the inquiry is still to be made _whether they were in these families any children of such an age that they were not capable of any intelligent reception of Christianity, for this is the only point on which the case turns._’ Ch. Hist. p. 198.

“I might retort by saying that you are exceedingly unreasonable in your mode of argumentation. You say that the Apostles baptized infants. I ask you to _prove_ it. You reply by saying he baptized _families_. Now if there _was never a family without infants_, your argument would be complete. But your own family has no infants in it. It consists of two grown sons, a daughter nearly grown, and a servant. My family has no infants in it: it consists of myself, my wife, and my nephew, who assists me in my school. The family of our friend Mrs. Ernest has no infants in it. It consists of her daughter, Miss Theodosia, of her son Edwin, and her old servant, Aunt Chloe. All of whom are old enough to believe and rejoice in God, as the jailor’s family did. Should they all determine to obey the commandment of Jesus Christ and be baptized according to the Gospel order, you can say of her, as Luke does of the jailor and of Lydia—She was baptized, and her household. You see, therefore, that if you would make your argument worth a straw, you must go one step further, and prove that there _was an infant_ in the families. It will not do to say that it is _probable_ there was one. It is just as probable that there is one in yours, or mine, or Mrs. Ernest’s, yet you know there is none. You must, if you build an argument on the infant as being there, first _prove that it was there_. If you can’t do this, the judgment goes against you of course. I need not prove that it was not there. The burden of proof rests on you. If you go into court and claim property as the heir of a certain woman’s _child_, you must prove that there was _such a child_. If you should prove no more than that the woman was _married_ and kept house, and had been heard to speak of _her family_, the court would laugh at you. That she was married, kept house, and had a family, you would be told, was not the slightest legal proof _that she had a child_. And this is the point on which your whole claim rests. Peter had a family, though so far as we are informed it consisted only of his wife and his wife’s mother. And so Crispus, the chief ruler of the synagogue, had a family: who they were, we do not know; whether children, grand-children, nephews, or servants. His father and mother, and the father and mother of his wife; his own brothers and sisters, or the brothers and sisters of his wife his clerks or apprentices, if they had lodged in his house and eaten of his table, would have been called—his family, _his house_; but whosoever they were, they ‘_all believed on the Lord_,’ and so were not unconscious infants.”

“Have we not some other case, Mr. Johnson?” inquired the Professor.

“There is only one other,” replied the pastor, “and that is that of the family of Stephanus, mentioned by Paul, 1 Cor. i. 16—‘I baptized also the household of Stephanus.’”

“And that need not detain us long,” said Mr. Courtney, “for your own Presbyterian Doctor of Divinity, McKnight, in his excellent Commentary, says, ‘The family of Stephanus seem all to have been _adults_ when they were baptized; for they are said, chap. xvi. 15, _to have devoted themselves to the ministry of the saints_.’

“We have now examined _all_ your ‘examples,’ and the infants are not yet discovered. Lydia’s family are called ‘brethren.’ The jailer’s family are said ‘to believe and rejoice in God.’ That of Crispus ‘believed in the Lord.’ And that of Stephanus ‘addicted themselves to the ministry of the saints.’ And, Cor. xvi. 16, the church is directed to ‘submit itself unto such.’ You have not only failed to prove that there were any infants, but I have proved (though by the rules of debate I was under no obligation to do so) that they were all adults, or at least old enough to hear, believe, obey, and rejoice in the Gospel. I leave it now for you to say yourselves, whether there is, in any of these instances, a _single certain example_ of the baptism of an unconscious infant?”

Mr. Courtney paused, but neither of the others felt disposed to answer; after waiting a moment, he continued:

“But I am not willing to pass so readily from these passages. You are accustomed, Mr. Johnson, and so are all your ministers, to present these as proof-texts for infant baptism. You will probably go and do it again, though I pray that God may give you a better mind. They stand as proof-texts in your ‘Confession of Faith,’ and yet, in truth, neither they nor you _have ever believed them to be such_, or else you are more inconsistent in your conduct than sensible men are often found to be.”

“Why, sir, what do you mean? Do you intend to insinuate, sir, that we Presbyterian ministers teach as God’s truth what we do not believe?”

“I mean to say, Mr. Johnson, that you teach for God’s truth what you do not practice—and you know a good man’s practice _ought_ to correspond to his belief. You teach that the _families_ of believers are to be baptized on the faith of the _head of the family_. Out of the thousands and thousands of people who are recorded as having believed and been baptized, you find three or four instances in which a whole family believed, and were baptized at the same time, and they are mentioned as a certain man and his family. Now you say if these three or four _families_ were baptized, _all_ families of believers are entitled to baptism. This is what your argument amounts to, if it has any force at all. Now, in every one of these instances the _whole family_, every member of it, is said to have been baptized.”

“Very well,” said Mr. Johnson, “so much the better for our cause—so much the more likely that it included _the infants_.”

“It may be so much the better for your _cause_, but it is so much the worse for your _consistency_. You teach that all the family were included in these baptisms, but _you do not baptize all the family_. Are not my wife and my nephew members of my family? but you would not on my faith baptize either of them. Is not old Aunt Chloe a member of Mrs. Ernest’s family? yet you never have baptized her, or urged on Mrs. Ernest the duty of bringing her _servant_ as well as her children. Are not children of ten or twelve, or fifteen or twenty years of age, as much members of the _family_ as the baby is? If these passages prove that _one_ member of the family may be baptized on the faith of the head, they prove equally that every other member may be; and your only consistent ground is that occupied by Mr. Barnes in his Notes on 1 Cor. i. 16—‘Household (_oikon_). the house, the family. The word comprises the whole family, including adults, domestics, slaves, and children.’ … ‘It was the custom doubtless for the Apostles to baptize the _entire household, whatever might be the age, including domestics, slaves, and children_. The head of a family gave up the _entire household_ to God.’ If you and Dr. Barnes _believe_ this, you ought to _practice_ it. If Paul baptized all the children, and all the domestics, and all the slaves, and all the other members of the family, of _whatever age_, you ought to do it too. You are unworthy to have charge of a Christian church, if you do not, at least, _attempt_ to do it. You ought to urge upon your members the ‘duty and privilege’ of bringing their _slaves_, where they have them—their men servants and their maidens—their domestics, male or female, ‘_of whatever age_,’ and all their children, whether infant or adult, to be baptized upon the faith of the head of the family. Nor do I see how you could well omit the _wife_, for although Dr. Barnes has not included her, she certainly belongs to the _family_ as much as the ‘domestics.’ If they refuse to perform this duty, which was thus enjoined, as you believe, by the Apostles, you can not do less than call them to account for their neglect. If they will still prove obstinate, you must exclude them as disobedient to one of the ‘undoubted’ ordinances of the church of Christ. They are _certainly_ under as much obligation to bring _all_ as to bring the infants.”

“Yes,” said the pastor; “but where they have come to years of discretion, we think it best to leave them to come themselves, as an act of personal obedience.”

“But you have no _right_ to leave them, even if you do think best. Lydia did not, according to your account of the matter, leave hers to come when they pleased. The jailer did not leave his—he brought them all _straightway_. If the head of the family is to have his _household_ baptized, on the authority of these examples, he is not at liberty to leave them to come of themselves It is his bounden duty to exert all his authority as husband, father, and master, to bring his whole family at once to the baptismal basin; and it is your bounden duty, as a minister of Christ, if you believe such things, to urge the subject upon their attention. Call upon them for the immediate performance of their obligations; and it is the duty of the church to deal with those who neglect or refuse. But this you never have done. There are none of your ministers who do it; and I venture to say that Mr. Barnes himself has never done it. You never will do—you, none of you, dare to do it. Your own consciences would recoil from the introduction, in this way, of infidels, and blasphemers, and irreligious men and women, into the church of Christ, on the faith of their father or master. As you would be afraid to do it yourselves, you do not believe in your hearts that the Apostles did it. It is altogether inconsistent with every thing we know of their character, and the nature of the churches they established; and it would therefore be fair to infer that these families which were baptized were families of believers, even if they had not been called brethren in the case of Lydia, or said to believe and rejoice in God in the jailer’s—to speak with tongues and glorify God in that of Cornelius—to believe in the Lord Jesus in that of Crispus, and to give themselves to the Christian ministry in that of Stephanus.”

“I did not expect when we commenced,” replied Mr. Johnson, “to be able to convince you of your errors in regard to this subject. I have often observed that the more one reasons with a Baptist, the more firmly he fixes him in his baptistical notions. I have, therefore, had no desire for any such controversy as this. It was only to satisfy my friend and brother, Professor Jones, that I engaged in it at all—and I must now beg leave to decline any further argument upon the subject.”

“Pardon me, Mr. Johnson, if in the heat of debate I have made use of any expression that has seemed improper, or in any degree disrespectful to you. I did not intend to do so, and regret most sincerely if my feelings have led me to overstep the bounds of gentlemanly discussion.”

“Oh, I do not,” resumed the pastor, “decline further disputation on that ground; though I might, I think, fairly complain of some of your expressions. I merely do not wish to continue a discussion which is not likely to result in any good.”

“Permit me to suggest,” said Professor Jones, “that if we leave off here we acknowledge ourselves to be completely routed, for it is certain that we have not yet been able to produce a single undoubted precept or example of infant baptism from the Scriptures. But since such men as Woods, and Wall, and Stewart, and Coleman, and Neander, concede this, and yet are the firm advocates of the baptism of infants, _there must be some other ground_ on which it can be sustained.”

“That is true, sir,” replied the pastor. “And I have purposely reserved our strongest argument for the last. But I am sure it will have no influence on Mr. Courtney, nor any other Baptist.”

“But, Mr. Johnson, it may have some effect on me. And I hope you will do us the favor to present it for my benefit.”

“We will not have time to-night,” replied the other, “and for the present at least I am tired of the subject. Perhaps you will hear something at church to-morrow that will satisfy your mind.” And with this intimation the Rev. gentleman took his leave, and the parties separated.

THE DAY AFTER THE SEVENTH NIGHT.

Theodosia is baptized according to the commandment, and the example of the Lord Jesus Christ.

The Day After the Seventh Night.

We left Theodosia in that most distressful condition, in which duty, struggling with inclination, distracts and rends the mind with agonizing efforts to decide one way or the other.

With her this was not a slight or momentary strife. It was the terrible agony of one who struggles for his very life. Dearer to her than life was Mr. Percy’s love; it was her first love; it was her only love; it was a pure and holy love; it had been sanctioned by her mother’s fond approval; it had been sanctified by their formal espousals; the day had been set for the consummation of their happiness; she had fully given up her whole heart to it; it was the great, controlling, soul-absorbing passion of her being; all the hopes of life were centered here. To tear such love from out the heart, was to rend the heart itself. Yet she felt it must be done; and God gave her strength to do it. All day long, as we said, she had crouched at her mother’s side, or followed her like her shadow. She seemed to feel that something terrible impended over her, and that she was safer in her mother’s presence. Not one word was spoken by either of them on the one subject which occupied the minds of both. Mrs. Ernest observed that, as the day advanced, her daughter’s face became more natural in its expression. The lines of agony began to disappear. The eyes no longer looked so strange and restless; nor did they turn to her, as in the morning, with that beseeching gaze of agony which almost broke her heart. But still, she noticed that her lips often moved, though she uttered no word; and when she spoke to her about the business of the household, it was some time before she answered, and then slowly, and often in such a way as to show that she had not fully comprehended her meaning. Her mind was evidently far away.

About three o’clock she laid down her worsted, and taking up the Testament which lay upon her work table, turned to the fourteenth chapter of Luke, and read: “If any man come to me and hate not his father and mother, and wife and children, and brethren and sisters, yea, and his own life also, he cannot be my disciple; and whosoever doth not bear his cross and come after me, cannot be my disciple. For which of you, intending to build a tower, sitteth not down first and counteth the cost, whether he have sufficient to finish it, lest haply after he hath laid the foundation and is not able to finish it, all that behold it begin to mock him, saying, This man began to build, but was not able to finish. Or what king going to make war against another king, sitteth not down first, and consulteth whether he be able, with ten thousand, to meet him that cometh against him with twenty thousand? or else, while yet the other is a great way off he sendeth an ambassage, and desireth conditions of peace. So likewise whosoever he be of you that forsaketh not all that he hath, he cannot be my disciple.”

“Mother,” said she, looking up, and speaking as though her mother had known what she was reading, “you will not make it necessary for me to forsake you too?”

“Why, what do you mean, my daughter?”

“Jesus says here, that if I do not forsake all for him, I cannot be his disciple.”

“Yes, my child, but that has nothing to do with baptism. It means that you must give up all _to be religious_.”

“To be religious, mother, is to _obey Jesus Christ_. ‘If ye love me,’ he says, ‘keep my commandments.’ One of the plainest and most positive of those commandments is, ‘_Believe_ and _be baptized_.’ Baptism is commanded as much as faith. It makes, indeed, a part of the _same command_. I trust I have believed; but I _have never been baptized_. Even if the sprinkling which I received in my childhood had been baptism, _it was no act of mine_. I have not obeyed: _I—must—do—it_!” She pronounced these last four words slowly, with a slight pause between each of them, as though each cost her heart a pang to speak it, and yet it must be said.

“Well, my child, if you must, you must.”

“But, mother, you will not forbid me? You will not make it needful to disobey you as well as to—” But she could not finish the sentence, and left her mother to guess her meaning.

“No, my dear child, I will not absolutely _forbid_ you. You know what I think about these things. Baptism is not essential to salvation, and I had much rather you would remain where you are. I cannot bear to see you sacrifice all your prospects in life for a mere whim, for I don’t see but what one baptism is just as good as another. And if you were not in such distress, I would certainly oppose you, but I see it would do no good; and though it will mortify and distress me, I will not forbid you. And if you are determined to do it at all hazards, and it will relieve you of a single pang, I give you my consent.”

“Thank you, mother! You do not know what a load you have taken off my heart.” And she buried her face in her mother’s lap, and wept aloud for several minutes. Then she arose, wiped her eyes, and went into her own room and closed the door.

Shall we invisibly follow her there; see her on her bended knees pour out her soul to God; hear her cry for help with those inarticulate groanings which the Apostle speaks of; see the resolve take form and substance in her heart; see her arise with that same strange calmness which we observed after she had prayed the day she came up from witnessing the baptism in the river; see her open her little writing-desk, and select a sheet of paper; take her pen and write, “My Dear Mr. Percy;” then pause, lay down her pen, cover her face with her hands, pressing upon her eye balls, as if to shut out some terrible vision, while a strong convulsive shudder quivers through her frame? It is past; she uncovers her face; looks up beseechingly to heaven; composes herself; takes up her pen, and writes as follows:

“I received yours on Friday evening. To say that its contents gave me _very great pain_, would but feebly express the truth. I was not only distressed, but most grievously disappointed; for I had supposed you were as sincere and earnest in your desire to know and do your whole duty in regard to this subject as I was myself. Your letter undeceived me. I do not complain of it. I am thankful for your expressions of interest in my welfare, and of affection for myself. I will not deny that I had no higher ambition, so far as this world is concerned, than to secure your approbation. But I cannot, _even to please you_, venture to disobey my Saviour, I intend to be baptized to-morrow. I am aware, after what you have said, that by doing so, I shall not only ‘mortify and distress’ you, but I shall renounce all claim to your love. When you return, therefore, I shall be to you but as one dead. I pray you so to consider me; it will be better for us both. And if you will spare me farther pain, I do entreat you never to solicit a renewal of our engagement. It will not give you as much pain to read this as it does me to write it; but I have weighed it well. I say every word deliberately, though sorrowfully. I will not cease to pray for you. And will you not sometimes pray for her who _was_ your “THEODOSIA.”

This letter she folded, enclosed, sealed, and directed to Mr. Percy’s lodging place, and called the old servant, Aunt Chloe, and directed her to take and leave it there.

This done, she returned to her mother with something almost like a smile of joy upon her face. The peace of God was in her heart; and if she was not _happy_, she was no longer wretched. With a low, but calm and almost cheerful voice, she told her mother what she had done, and asked her to make suitable preparation for her baptism. At night she sent a line to Uncle Jones, requesting him, if he could, to be present; and another to Mr. Courtney, announcing her intention to ask for baptism. She spent most of the time in her own room, alone, until the hour of rest, and then slept sweetly till morning. When she awoke, her first thought was expressed in the language of the Psalmist—“I laid me down and slept; and I awoke again, for the Lord preserved me.” She felt now that she was, in a peculiar sense, in the care of God. She had given all, and had obtained all. She had given up self, and obtained Jesus in all his fullness, and God in all his boundless power and love. Jesus was _her_ Saviour; God was _her_ God. Yes, the mighty Maker of the worlds, the omnipotent Ruler of the Universe, was not only her _God_, but her _Father_. She felt this morning that she might ask what she would. And yet such was the overwhelming conviction in her heart, that her loving Saviour and her kind Father knew so infinitely better than herself what she most needed, and what would be really best, that she could only pray: “‘Thy will be done;’ I leave it all with thee. Do what thou seest best. Give joy or sorrow; give comfort or affliction; give life or death. Thou knowest best—thou dost all things well. I trust myself—my soul and body; my happiness here and hereafter; all I am, all I have; all I feared, all I hoped for—I give all up to thee. Thou only art my portion now; and I am thine—_all_ thine; I _delight_ to do thy will, oh, my Beloved. I have now no other love but thee, my Saviour, my Father, my Friend. Thou art my all. Jesus is mine, and I am his. What can I want beside? Blessed Saviour, may I never leave thee—may I never grieve thee any more. Lord, thou knowest all things. Thou knowest that I love thee. Yes, I love thee, and I will keep _all_ thy commandments. Show me thy ways. Thou shalt guide me by thy counsels, and afterward receive me into thy glory. Yes, me—even me—poor, lost, rebellious sinner that I am. Thou wilt love me freely. Thou wilt save me through thine own infinite mercy. Mercy, all mercy. Not for works of righteousness which we have done, but of his own mercy, he saves us. Jesus, I thank thee. Oh, make me love thee more.”

With such incoherent ejaculations of trust, and praise, and prayer, she rose, and prepared for church.

It was strange how the news had got abroad, yet it had spread like wild-fire through the town that Miss Theodosia Ernest would that morning apply for baptism. At an early hour the school-house was crowded to its utmost capacity, and before the services commenced, even the windows and the doors, and every place was occupied from which one could hope to catch a glimpse at what was going on within, or hear a word of what was said.

The church bells began to ring. Mrs. Ernest had all the morning been distracted between affection for her lovely child, which prompted her to go to the school-house, and pride, which urged her to go and sit in her own pew as though nothing had happened. Curiosity to see and hear what Theodosia would do and say, and what sort of people these Baptists were, joined with affection in pleading for the school-house; and a sort of indefinite dread of what _Mr. Johnson_ might say, came to the help of pride. And, it may be, there was something like a mistaken sense of religious duty which spake on that side also. However this may be, the first few strokes of the costly and solemn-sounding bell which had been accustomed to call her to church, seemed suddenly to decide her.

“I want you to understand, Theodosia,” said she, “that though I do not forbid, yet I do not altogether approve of what you are about to do, and I cannot sanction any such proceedings by my presence. I don’t know what Mr. Johnson would think of me, if I should forsake our own dear church to wander about after these new comers.”

This was a new disappointment to the sensitive child. She had greatly relied on her mother’s presence to sustain her in the untried scenes through which she was about to pass. She had also hoped that Uncle Jones would call and go with her, but he had not come, and she was alone. Yet she was _not alone_, for she looked up as her mother was speaking, and in her heart said again, “Not my will, but thine be done!”—And the Spirit replied, “Fear not, for _I am with thee_; and be not dismayed, for I am thy God!” “When my father and my mother forsake me the Lord will take me up.”

I do not say that she felt no natural misgivings, no modest shrinking from going alone into a house filled with strangers, with the consciousness that every eye was on her, and every heart full of curiosity to see how she would look, what she would do, and what she would say; but she thought much less of this than my reader would naturally suppose. The peace of God was in her heart, and it gave to her mind and her manner a quiet yet determined calmness, and a collectedness of thought and perfect self-possession which was surprising even to herself.

She set out therefore _alone_; for Edwin had not returned from Sabbath-school. Two or three times the mother turned and looked after her as she went, and wished she _could_ consistently, and without displeasing Mr. Johnson, have gone with the dear child.

Mr. Courtney had taken it for granted that Uncle Jones or some of the family would accompany her, and when he saw her coming by herself, he hastened to meet her, and conducted her to a seat.

The preacher was not the same who had been there before, but a stranger who had providentially been sent to fill his place. He was a man about forty years of age, rather below than above the ordinary size; his complexion dark, his hair slightly silvered with gray, and the top of his head almost bald. His eyes, and indeed the whole expression of his face, were somewhat peculiar. He seemed to have been long in feeble health, and his face was marked with lines of suffering. Its habitual expression was one of _sad and sorrowful resignation_. The casual observer saw in it no evidence of lofty genius, or of even extraordinary talent—and yet he was an extraordinary man. Though he had but slight acquaintance with the technicalities of logic, he was a clear and powerful reasoner. Though he knew little of the scholastic theories of theology, he was wonderfully familiar with the teachings of Jesus and the Apostles. Though he professed no acquaintance with the metaphysical subtleties of mental philosophy, he knew full well how to convince the understanding and move upon the hearts of his hearers. He was not familiar with the ancient classics, yet his style was pure and strong, and not entirely void of elegance. His tones and gestures were not formed by any rules of oratory, yet he was sometimes very eloquent. When he first rose, there was a slight rusticity in his manner, and something in his dress which for a single moment struck Theodosia unpleasantly; but there was, also, such an air of trusting meekness, that this impression was removed almost as soon as made. His text was John xv. 14—“Ye are my friends if ye do whatsoever I command you.” And the main object of his sermon was to show the vast difference which there is between the so-called obedience which springs from hope, or grows up from fear, and the willing and _true_ obedience of the Gospel which is produced by _love_. It was a deep, heart-searching discourse, and must have left on every attentive bearer’s mind the sad conviction that genuine Gospel obedience is much more rare than is commonly imagined. We cannot follow him through all his argument; but we may not omit one portion of it. “The obedience of _love_,” said he, “makes no division of Christ’s commandments into essential and non-essential. ‘Ye are my friends if ye do _whatever_ I command you,’ whether _you_ think it important or not. We know that we love him when we have respect unto _all_ his commandments. The obedience of _hope_ says, how much _must I do to_ be permitted to enter heaven? The obedience of _fear_ asks, what may I omit to do, and yet escape from hell? The obedience of _love_ simply inquires, ‘Lord, what wilt THOU have me to do?’ It does not ask, what _must_ I do? but what _can_ I do to show my love for Jesus? It does not ask how far I _can venture to disobey_, and keep my hope of heaven? How far off can I follow Jesus, and yet not be disowned of him? Oh, never, never! He who will obey Christ no farther than he may fancy is _essential to salvation_, has never obeyed him at all. Love of self, not love of Christ, is his controlling motive. He is striving not to please his Saviour but to secure his _own personal happiness_. Love teaches a different way. Love _delights_ to do his will. Love delights to do all his will. Love never asks, what is essential to salvation? but what did Jesus Christ _command_? Love never asks, how little _may_ I do? but how much _can_ I do? If _he_ commands, that is reason enough. He is no _loving_ child who will obey his father only in those things which he must do, or be disowned and disinherited. He is no _loving_ child who will do all he dare to grieve a doting parent whom he believes will pardon all, and love him though he grieves him. He who truly loves him will obey his _slightest desires_ as well as his most peremptory commands. He who truly loves will study to know all his will, and in his very heart _delight_ to do it—_not_ to avoid disinheritance—not to secure his estate—not to enjoy his father’s bounty, either present or prospective—but simply because the father _wishes_, _asks it_, or commands it.

“And yet men call themselves obedient children of God, while they refuse to do what he commands, because he does not add to the command a promise of heaven or a threatening of hell. Oh, it is terrible to think how fearful will be their disappointment! Obeying only to secure salvation is itself sufficient proof that they have not obeyed unto salvation. Omitting all but what they think essential to salvation is of itself sufficient proof that they have omitted all that _is essential_ to salvation. The faith of the Gospel _works by love_, and love is obedient to _all_ his commandments, so far as it is able to know and to do them. When, therefore, Christ Jesus gives a plain command, as that to ‘believe and be baptized,’ love will not be content merely to believe. It will do both. It will do _whatever_ Christ commands, and he who stops because there is no penalty of hell fire attached to the last, as there is to the first part of the command, is no friend to Jesus. He does not obey from love to _Jesus_, but from love to _self_. And further, the obedience of love takes the command as it is given. It obeys in the same order that Christ requires. It not only does the very acts which he commands, but does them in that very _way_ that he requires them to be done. If Christ commands _first_ to believe and _then_, when thus prepared, to be baptized, the obedience of _love_ will never venture to _reverse_ Christ’s order. It will not seek to be first baptized and then believe. And as the command requires _personal_ obedience, it will never seek to substitute obedience _rendered by another_. Christ commands _you_ yourselves in your own right, and for yourselves, to _believe_, and then to be _baptized_. It may be you have not done either. Oh, what a fearful state! Not to have even begun to obey! It may be you have believed, but are fancying that an act done by your parents, and your pastor, without your knowledge or consent, and which _they called_ baptism, has released you from the obligation to obey yourself. But do not mistake. The religion of Christ is a _personal_ religion. The obedience it requires is an intelligent and personal obedience. You must be baptized for yourself. It must be an act of your own. He that believeth and is baptized, shall be saved. The one is to be your _own_ act as much as the other. But this command you have never even _tried_ to obey. You have never made the slightest effort. Oh, if you _love_ Jesus, will you not at least _try_ to obey _all_ his commandments?

“One thought more. The obedience of _love_ does what HE commands. ‘Ye are my friends, if ye do whatever _I_ command’—not what others may put in the place of it—not what you may fancy would do as well. You are not to ‘teach for doctrines the commandments of men.’ Jesus is the sole Lawgiver of his church. _His_ commandments, given in person or by those who spake as they were moved by his Holy Spirit, we must obey. If he was immersed in Jordan, then John’s baptism was immersion. If John’s baptism was immersion, then the baptism administered by Jesus and his disciples was immersion; for John says, Jesus went into a certain place, and there he tarried and baptized. And John also was baptizing in Ænon at the same time. And the Pharisees heard how that Jesus made and baptized more disciples than John. Whatever one did the other did. It was the same _thing_, because it is called in the same connection by the same name. And if Jesus and John immersed, it was immersion that he commanded. Yet _men_ have done away with what HE commanded, and substituted sprinkling in its place. To believe and be sprinkled, therefore, is not to _do whatever he commands_, but to teach and practice for his commands the doctrines of men; and of those who do such things he says, ‘In vain do they worship me.’ Don’t call me bigoted for reminding you of this. They are not _my_ words, but the words of Jesus Christ. It is _he_ who says it; and I believe that he _means_ just what he says. Popes and cardinals, bishops and priests, have met in solemn conclave and _changed_ the ordinance of Jesus. _They_ have substituted the sprinkling of infants for the immersion of believers. This was ordained by Christ, and that by anti-Christ. Yet there are many professed believers, men who would be grieved if I should intimate that they did not _love_ the Saviour—who in his name and as his ordinance practice these commandments of men. The very time and place when and where these changes were thus made by popes and councils is recorded by themselves. They claim to have _authority_ as the vicegerents of Christ on earth to make such changes. But the obedience of love will never recognize _their_ rule. It obeys _Jesus Christ_. It does whatever =he= commands. And whenever professed religious teachers, whether Catholic or Protestant, teach other commandments as a substitute for his—it rejects them with disdain.”

After the sermon, he came down from the little platform which had been erected for his convenience, and announced the church as ready to receive applicants for membership—requesting if there were any present who desired to unite with it, that they would come forward while the brethren sang a hymn, and take a seat allotted for that purpose.

The brethren immediately commenced singing the hymn—

“’Tis religion that can give Sweetest pleasures while we live; ’Tis religion can supply Solid comfort when we die.”

Before they had completed the first couplet, Theodosia arose and walked to the appointed seat. And when they had finished, the minister asked her to give to the church some account of her religious experience, that they might be able to judge of the nature of her faith and hope.

My reader, who is familiar with her strength of mind, firmness of purpose, clearness of conception, and habitual command of the most appropriate language, can form little conception of the surprise which was excited, as much by her manner as her words. She did not wait to be questioned, and simply answer yes or no, as is customary on such occasions; but modestly arose and turned her face to the audience, and began to relate in a low, but still in a perfectly audible voice, her experience of grace before she made any profession of religion. The house was still as death. Every eye was fixed, every ear attentive to even the slightest modulation of her voice. After describing, in her modest and simple, yet most impressive style, her conviction and conversion, she paused a moment, as if to think of the propriety of saying what was yet upon her mind.

“And why,” inquired the minister, who was ignorant of her history, “did you not _then_ unite with the people of God?”

“At that time,” she continued, “I had rarely been in any other but a Presbyterian house of worship. I regarded Presbyterians as the true church of Christ. Perhaps I would not be going too far if I should say, that I regarded them as the _only_ true church, or at least as the only church that was not involved in some most important error of doctrine or practice—it was my mother’s church;” and her voice faltered, and eyes filled with tears, as she said it. “It was the church in which God’s truth had been made effectual to my conversion. I had no shadow of a doubt that it was _the church_, if not the _only_ church, and with them I _did unite_. Nor, until last Sabbath, did I ever have a doubt that I was right in doing so. Last Sabbath, you will recollect, one of your number was baptized. I had the curiosity to go to the river. As I saw her plunged beneath the water, the thought impressed itself upon my mind, _if that’s baptism, I have never been baptized_; for whatever baptism may be, it must always be the same—‘One Lord, one faith, one baptism.’ I went home and commenced a careful and thorough investigation of the subject. I found that it was immersion, and not sprinkling, that Jesus commanded. It was this which HE himself; as our Example, submitted to in the river of Jordan. It was this which his disciples practiced in his life. I was this which he commanded after his death. It was this, therefore, which he required of me. I have not yet obeyed him, but I _desire_ ‘to _do whatever he commands_ me.’ Mine is, I humbly trust, the ‘obedience of love.’ I have come here to-day, and it is the first time in my life that I have ever been in a Baptist Church. I have come to ask you to _baptize me_, if you think me worthy, according to the commandment of the Lord Jesus.”

“Why, this is wonderful!” exclaimed the minister, as she resumed her seat.

“It is the Lord’s doing,” rejoined Mr. Courtney, “and it is wonderful in our eyes.”

“Brethren, what will we do in regard to this application?”

“I move,” said one, “that she be baptized, and received into the fellowship of the church.”

This was, of course, unanimously determined on.

“When will you be baptized, my sister?” inquired the minister.

“As soon as it may suit your convenience, sir. I am ready now.”

“Then after prayer we will at once proceed to the water’s side. Let us pray.”

They kneeled, and offered up a short and fervent prayer that God would own the ordinance about to be administered in his name—bless her who was to be its recipient—fill her with the comforts of the Gospel—make her a faithful and useful Christian, and at death receive her into his heavenly kingdom.

When Satan finds that he cannot prevent the performance of a religious duty, he often strives to render its performance as distressing as he can. Theodosia had not yet left the house before she began to be assailed by the most terrible temptations. First came the magnificent church, with its soft light, its cushioned pews, its richly carpeted aisles, its tasteful and costly pulpit, its deep-toned organ, and its well-trained choir, which had all her life been the accompaniments of her public devotions. And she could not but contrast their rich, luxurious elegance and comfort, with the rough platform, the naked, dirty floor, the hard benches, and harsh, unskillful voices which had surrounded her to-day. In that splendid church she saw her mother weeping over her daughter’s apostasy—her brother showing no interest in her fate—her uncle, whom she loved as a father, and upon whose approbation she had confidently relied, yet he had not come near her, though she had earnestly requested his presence—her pastor, who had taught her in childhood, and prayed over her at her conversion—and there was yet another, whom she now scarcely dared to think of. They were all there—all happy, all united. She only was a poor outcast from all—yes, yes, from _all she loved_. With her own rash hand she had cut the ties which bound her to her kindred and her friends. She had left all the _elegance_ so congenial to her delicacy and refinement of taste. She had left all the affection so necessary to the very life of her fond, clinging, loving heart, and here she stood _alone_ among these _strangers_, whom she felt instinctively, with one or two exceptions, had scarcely a sentiment or taste in common with her own. Then, as she was walking to the river, they passed the _very spot_ where she and Mr. Percy stood on the previous Sabbath; and in a single moment, what visions of affluence and ease, of elegant _social_ enjoyment, of domestic bliss—all the happiness of the loved and loving _wife_, extending down through many long and blissful years—came vividly before her mind. She could see nothing else. She forgot for a moment where she was, and why she came there. She walked on unconsciously. Unconsciously she took the offered arm of the minister as he came to conduct her into the river. The touch of the water recalled her to herself. She paused, and suddenly withdrew her arm, clasped her hands together, and looked up to heaven, and so stood for some moments, lost in silent prayer. Those who could see her face, observed the expression of distress and terror (which they attributed to a natural timidity at entering the water) suddenly gave place to one of joy and confidence as she again placed her arm within the minister’s and walked on. Jesus had heard her prayer—“Oh, Lord, save me! Give me strength to make all this sacrifice for thee! Thou art my Saviour. Thou hast commanded this. I do it in obedience to thee. Oh, leave me not. Help, Lord—I have no other helper—thou art _now my all_.” And as she prayed, the visions of earthly bliss vanished from before her, and she saw Jesus stretched upon the cross in dying agony, and he seemed to say, “I bore _all this_ for thee.” And she thought of the words of the Apostle—“He died for us.” And as she walked along, she remembered what Jesus said—“_Blessed_ are ye when men shall hate you, and when they shall separate you from their company, and shall reproach you, and shall cast out your name as evil, for the Son of man’s sake. Rejoice ye in that day, and leap for joy—for your reward is great in Heaven.” “And every one that hath forsaken houses, or brethren or sisters, or father or mother, or wife or children, or lands, for my name’s sake, shall receive an hundred fold, and shall inherit everlasting life.”

So fully was her mind occupied with this delightful thought, that she felt no further anxiety, and not the slightest fear. And as she was lifted from the liquid grave, she could not help exclaiming in an audible voice, “_Jesus, I thank thee!_” And then, as they turned toward the shore, such a gleam of heavenly peace and holy joy illumined her beautiful face, that several of the brethren and sisters who stood upon the bank, simultaneously exclaimed, “Blessed be the name of the Lord!”

“Yes,” she exclaimed, “blessed be his holy name!” And suddenly she stopped, and with a voice which was naturally sweet and powerful, and had been carefully cultivated, and now was rendered deeper and more expressive by intensity of feeling, she commenced singing:

“Jesus, I my cross have taken, All to leave and follow thee; Friendless, poor, despised, forsaken, Thou from hence my all shall be. And whilst thou shalt smile upon me, God of wisdom, love, and might, Foes may hate, and friends disown me, Show thy face, and all is bright. Man may trouble and distress me, ’Twill but drive me to thy breast; Life with trials hard may press me, Heaven will bring me sweeter rest. Oh, ’tis not in grief to harm me, While thy love is left to me! Oh, ’twere not in joy to charm me, Were that joy unmixed with thee!”

The effect upon the audience was electrical. Tears streamed from every face; many sobbed and wept aloud. Among these was a voice which instantly fixed her attention. She looked up among the assembly, and was surprised to see that it had increased since she started into the water to a great multitude. The congregations from several other churches had hurried to the river as soon as they were dismissed from their several places of meeting. Foremost among the crowd stood Uncle Jones, with her mother on one side, and Edwin on the other. It was she that she heard; for when she saw her daughter standing thus alone, and heard her sing, “Friendless, poor, despised, forsaken,” she lifted up her voice and wept. Nor did she weep alone. Strong men, who were not professors of religion, and who were thought to care for none of these things, stood and gazed at that sweet face, all radiant with the love of Jesus, as though it had been the face of an angel; and as they looked, the big tears chased each other down their unconscious cheeks. The brethren and sisters of the church wept; old men and mothers in Israel wept. Young men and maidens wept. But Theodosia heard none, saw none but her mother. As she came to the water’s edge, that mother rushed down to meet her, and clasped her closely to her heart. The brothers and sisters of the church, who were approaching to give her the hand of fellowship, stood respectfully aside.

“Oh, mother, do you—can you forgive me?”

“Don’t talk so, my child; I have never blamed you. You have done your duty; you have done right. You have obeyed your Saviour—he will bless you. I wish I had the courage to follow your example.”

“God bless you for those words, my mother! Oh! how full of joy my heart is. He maketh my cup run over. Surely goodness and mercy hath followed me all the days of my life. Uncle, dear uncle, it is _blessed to obey_. Can’t you give up _all_ for Christ?

“Mr. Courtney, I thank you for your teachings. Now I _know_ I am baptized. I have now done just what Jesus commanded. I have left all and followed him; and, blessed be his name, I have already that peace which passeth understanding.” And as the brethren and sisters came crowding round to welcome her into the communion of the church on earth, she sang again with that sweet, soul-thrilling voice, to which the intensity of her feelings and utter self-abandonment gave tenfold power:

“Children of the living God, Take the stranger to your heart—Let me dwell in your abode, Never more from you to part.

“Can you love me? Will you help me? Help me on my way to God—Can you love me? Will you help me? Help me keep his precious word.”

While singing, she continued to give her hand to one after another as they came up; and as she finished the strain, a sister standing by sang:

“Yes, come, thou blessed of the Lord, No stranger art thou now—We welcome thee with warm accord, Our friend and sister thou.

“The hand of fellowship, the heart Of love we offer thee; Leaving the world, thou dost but part With lies and vanity.

“In weal or woe, in joy or care, Thy portion shall be ours; Christians their mutual burdens bear, They lend their mutual powers.”

The minister pronounced the benediction, and they led her up the bank, and then each went his way rejoicing.

Uncle Jones went home and dined with Mrs. Ernest. When Theodosia had changed her dress, and returned to the parlor, he went up and took her hand as she came in, saying, “My dear Theo., why did you not tell me you were going to be baptized to-day? I would have gladly gone with you to your meeting.”

“Then you did not mean to cast me off?” said she, her eyes filling with tears. “I thought you too had forsaken me. I sent you a line last night, entreating you to be present—but you did not come!”

“I did not get it, nor did I know, till after church, that you intended any such thing to-day. I missed you from your accustomed seat, and inquired of your mother as soon as the meeting was dismissed, and learned that you had gone to be baptized. We hurried to the river, and fortunately were just in time to see you go into the water.”

“Oh, uncle! I am so glad. I thought that you, and mother, and all who loved me, so disapproved of what I was about to do, that you would none of you be present. God is already giving me back my friends.”

There was preaching again at three o’clock,—and as the school-house could not hold half the people, it was thought best to adjourn to the court house. At night the court house was filled to overflowing, and the preacher requested those who were concerned about their souls’ salvation, and desired the prayers of the people of God, to take a seat in front of the congregation. More than a dozen came forward at once, among whom were several who had been a long time professors of religion, and some were members of the Baptist Church. On inquiry, these professors stated that they had been _trying to get to heaven_, and with this object in view had endeavored to lead in some degree religious lives. They had gone to church, partaken of the Supper, sometimes prayed, or tried to pray—but took _no pleasure_ in religion; and from what they heard in the morning, were convinced that whatever obedience they had shown was the obedience of fear, or hope, and not of love. _For if they could have got to heaven without religion, they would have willingly dispensed with it._ They had abstained from open sin, because they knew that those who lived in open sin would _surely be lost_. They had endeavored to perform certain duties, because they considered the attempt (at least) to do such duties to be _essential to salvation_. What they did not think thus essential, had little weight upon their conscience. Now they saw that they had been fearfully deceived, and desired to seek for the obedience of love—not the obedience which seeks to merit heaven, and continually looks for its reward—but that which receives all mercies as the _free gift_ of God in Christ, and yet longs, and strives, and prays to do all his commandments, because it thus and only thus can exercise, exhibit, and gratify the _love of God that fills the heart_.

The minister did not try to give them back their hopes, and make them think that they had no occasion for alarm. He knew full well that Christ will say to _many_, “Depart from me, I never knew you,” who here on earth _called_ him Lord, Lord, and professed to be his disciples. He greatly feared that there were thousands and thousands who had a respectable standing in the church of Christ, who never asked, with the converted Paul, “Lord, what wilt THOU _have me to do_?” But only with the yet unconverted jailer, “What must I do to be saved?” This last he knew was most important, but it was not _enough_. It was a needful and common _preparation_ for religion, but it was not _religion_. It might lead to _seek_ for faith, but it is not the _result_ of saving faith, for _THAT works by LOVE_—and through Love purifies the heart—and through Love brings forth good works in the life. He was convinced, moreover, that it was infinitely better for many of God’s true children to suffer temporary anxiety and alarm, than for one false professor to be confirmed in his delusive hope.

It was determined at the close of this meeting, to appoint one for Monday night, and probably continue to have preaching every night during the week. Whether they did so, and what was the result, we will learn hereafter. It is time for us now to return to our study, which at the close of the Seventh Night (the attentive reader will perhaps remember) was about the Scriptural authority, or rather about the utter want of all Scriptural authority for infant baptism.

THE EIGHTH NIGHT’S STUDY.

New characters and new arguments.

Infant baptism is virtually forbidden in the Word of God.

The covenant of circumcision furnishes no ground of defence for infant baptism.

Eighth Night’s Study.

The Reverend Mr. Johnson had, early in the preceding week, commenced the preparation of a discourse, which was intended, at once and forever, to put an end to any further defection among his flock. He was a fine declaimer, and was, in the pulpit, accustomed at times to deal in the bitterest denunciation of those who differed from his party in their religious opinions and practices. He had more power of sarcasm than of reason, and hence, found it easier to denounce the opinions of others than to defend his own. His discourse upon the Sabbath through which we have just passed, was that which we saw him preparing at the commencement of our Third Night’s Study. It was designed to be a scornful, bitter, and withering denunciation of all those weak minded and credulous, or fanatical, persons who, in this day of light, and surrounded by such advantages as were possessed by _his_ congregation, could be by any means induced to wander away from the sacred pale of Presbyterianism. We will not trouble the reader with even a synopsis of this remarkable sermon. It had been prepared with evident labor and care, and it was delivered with great energy and feeling. Under other circumstances, it might have produced the effect that its author intended, which was to deter any other persons from any investigation of the subject of baptism, or indeed any other religious subject, except for the purpose of confirming their faith in the doctrines in which they had been instructed from their childhood. To have fully answered his purpose, he should have preached it at least a week sooner. Now, it was universally understood to be expressly aimed at certain individuals, whom it was well known had been investigating the subject of baptism, and _might_ possibly be considering the propriety, or rather the conscientious _necessity_, of a change of church relationship. Many a glance was turned, during its delivery, to the seats occupied by Uncle Jones and Mrs. Ernest. The latter felt that it was an uncalled-for abuse of her absent child, whom she knew had been impelled to the course she had taken by the sternest and most distressing conviction of indispensable duty; and though she wept as she listened, her tears were tears of mortification and anger. That sermon did more to destroy her faith in Pastor Johnson, and her affection for her church, than all the anti-Presbyterian arguments she had ever heard. So also it did more to fix the attention of the congregation upon the work which was going on among the Baptists, than any thing which _they_ could have done or said. Many were willing to go and learn at the Baptist meetings what those terrible and seducing doctrines were which could so excite the ire of their venerable shepherd.

After preaching, he gave notice that a meeting of the Session would be held at three o’clock, at the parsonage, to attend to some business of importance, and gave a special invitation to the _resident ministers_ (by whom he meant the President of the college, and those of the professors who were also preachers) to meet with them.

Neither Uncle Jones nor Mrs. Ernest said any thing of this ominous announcement to Theodosia, for both had some indistinct conception that the business to be done related to her case.

Uncle Jones, as one of the ruling elders, and a member of the Session, felt it his duty to be present. He was a little after the time, however; and when he arrived, he found that they had already entered upon the discussion of the business on hand. There was an awkward pause in the conversation when he came in, until the pastor remarked that the matter which they were considering might be an unpleasant one to him; and if so, there would be a quorum present should he think best to retire.

“If your business relates in any way to my niece,” said the Professor, “I prefer to witness all you have to say or do.”

“We were indeed speaking of her,” said the pastor; “and though it gives me pain to say it, I have felt it my duty, also, to make some mention of your own case, as of one aiding and abetting error in another, if not yourself entertaining opinions which are inconsistent with your obligations as a ruling elder in the church.”

There was a slight flush passed over the manly face of Professor Jones, as the pastor, with evident reluctance, thus gave him to understand that _one_ object of the meeting was to inflict the discipline of the church upon his recreant niece, and another to take steps to depose him from the eldership; but he answered very calmly:

“Don’t let my coming in interrupt your order of business. You will take up one case at a time. I will be present when you take action on that of Miss Ernest. When you are ready to consider mine, I will retire.”

“We understand,” said the pastor, “that Miss Ernest, while her name was still standing as a member upon our record, has gone to a Baptist society, solicited immersion, and has actually been immersed by a Baptist preacher. By this act, she has undoubtedly severed all connection with our church, and must of necessity be excluded from _our communion_. The only question is whether we are bound to make the usual citation to appear and answer to the charge.”

“There can be no doubt,” replied Professor Jones, “that we are bound, according to our rules, to give the ten days’ notice of citation, with a copy of the charges preferred against the accused. But, in this case, I will take it upon myself to answer for my niece, that she would prefer the quickest and the simplest mode of excision. She has no wish for farther connection with us. She regards herself as already separated from our communion, and will probably make no answer or defence to any charges not affecting her moral or Christian character, which you may think fit to bring against her.”

After some consultation, it was decided that it would not be proper to dispense with any of the stipulated formalities of the rules of discipline; and consequently, all that could at this time be done, was to take order that a copy of the charges preferred against her, the names of the witnesses by whom they were to be established, and a citation to appear and answer ten days thereafter, should be issued and served upon Miss Theodosia Ernest. A committee, consisting of the pastor and clerk, was appointed to carry these measures into execution.

“You are now done with Miss Ernest’s case for the present,” said Professor Jones, “and I will retire, that you may feel perfect freedom in speaking about mine.”

“Oh, no,” said the President of the College, the Rev. T. J. McNought, D.D., LL.D., who was present on the invitation of the pastor. “We were merely speaking of what it _might_ be necessary to do in a case such as our brother Johnson conceived yours would _eventually become_, should you continue to progress in the direction in which he imagines you have started.”

“Brethren,” replied the Professor, “let us not misunderstand each other. You know me well. I am a plain, blunt man. I will have no concealment on this subject. My niece has carefully studied the Word of God, which our standards declare ‘IS THE ONLY RULE OF FAITH AND PRACTICE.’ I assisted her in the investigation. We both came to the conclusion, as I think every right-minded man must do, that the baptism commanded and spoken of in the New Testament, is neither sprinkling nor pouring, but dipping, or, as it is commonly called, immersion. This I now firmly believe. This I am ready to prove from the Holy Word to you or any one else who feels inclined to inquire into the matter. I will prove it by the very meaning of the _word_ baptize. I will prove it by a reference to the _places_ selected for baptism. By the going down into the water, and the coming up out of the water, said to have preceded and followed baptism. I will prove it by the nature of the _allusions_ to baptism, as a _bath_, as a _planting_, and a burial. I will prove by the testimony of the Fathers, that it was for centuries the _only_ baptism, and by the testimony of _our own ablest writers_—such as Wall and Stuart, Neander and Colman—that it continued to be the _common_ baptism for more than thirteen hundred years, even in the Roman Catholic Church, and the churches derived from her, and _still_ continues the only baptism in the Eastern churches. I will show you the very time and place when and where the change was made by authority of the _Pope and his council_. I will show you when and how the new practice was introduced into England and into this country. I will show you this, not in Baptist books. These facts do not rest on Baptist testimony, but on that of _our own_ historians and divines. _You know_, President McNought, that what I say is true; and Mr. Johnson knows it, too, or might know it, if he would look at the evidence in his possession. Now, if to believe these things on such testimony makes one a heretic, I wish you distinctly to understand that I am decidedly heretical. Though I assure you, on my honor as a man and a Christian, that I am ready and willing to see and to acknowledge my error, if _any one of you_ can point it out. On the subject of infant baptism, I am not fully convinced. I am satisfied, as any one can easily be who will make a critical examination of the Scriptures, with this object in view, that _there is neither express commandment nor example to justify the baptism of any but believers, to be found in the Word of God_. Pastor Johnson and myself have together searched diligently to find either the precept or the example, and he, as well as I, was compelled to grant that it _is not there_. But Woods and Stuart, and others of our most eminent divines, while they have granted this, still contend for infant baptism. There must, therefore, be _some other Scriptural ground_ on which it rests. I will be thankful to any one among you who can point it out.”

There was a moment’s pause. The Session were not prepared for such a confession of his faith and no one knew what to reply.

“I will now retire,” continued he. “You have the case before you, and can adopt such measures as you may think best.”

After he had gone, “I told you,” said the pastor, “that he had become a Baptist in all but the name. I don’t believe his niece would ever have left us, but for his encouragement and that of her mother.”

“They must have felt,” said Colonel White (the lay member whom we have had occasion to mention once before), “they must have felt to-day, if they had any feeling left. I would not have been in their places for the best farm in the country. It made my very ears tingle to hear how you belabored them. But it don’t seem to have done him the slightest good. I doubt if there is but one argument that can be brought to bear upon him, and that is the same that so easily convinced my young friend, Esquire Percy.”

“What is that?” inquired President McNought.

“It is the _argumentum ad pocketum_. I have heard from doctors that the pocket nerve was the most sensitive nerve in the whole body. Convince a man that his bread and meat depend upon a correct belief, and he is very apt to believe correctly. This may not be always true of a _woman_, but I have never known this argument, when prudently and skillfully presented, to fail of convincing _a man_. You may appoint a committee to confer with brother Jones, and endeavor to convince him of his errors. It is, perhaps, essential that you should; for this will give him a pleasant and honorable opportunity of recalling his heretical expressions, or at least, of explaining them away. But before you do this, let me intimate to him that the Board of Trustees (of whom you know I have the honor to be the President) will greatly dislike to dispense with his _valuable_ services in the college—but that it is a Presbyterian college; and however much they may esteem him as a man, and value him as a teacher, yet we can retain no one whose orthodoxy is openly doubtful. Believe me, brethren, you will then find him much more pliable, and ready to be convinced that he is wrong.”

“You may try it,” said the pastor, “but I don’t believe you will succeed. I know him better than you do. He has always been one of the most _conscientious_ men I ever knew. He will _act_ as he _believes_.”

“No doubt of it,” rejoined the speculating elder. “He will act as he believes; but he will believe that it is _wrong_ to make any change in his church relations, or to meddle any farther with the subject of baptism, unless it is in the defence of our opinions. Professor Jones is a poor man. It is not generally known, but it is true, that he has for several years greatly assisted in the support of Mrs. Ernest and her children. He has thus lived fully up to his income. He has now a growing family. He expects to provide for them out of his yearly salary. It is all he can do. Take away this; turn him out of the house he now occupies, rent free; let him feel that he stands suddenly not only destitute, but without employment and friendship—and he is something more or less than man, if he can look upon his helpless wife and children and refuse to hear to reason.”.

The Session appointed the pastor and the Rev. T. J. McNought, D.D., LL.D., as a committee to see and labor with their brother Jones, and endeavor to convince him of his errors, especially in regard to infant baptism, as on this point he seemed likely to be most accessible, and then adjourned to meet again at the call of the pastor.

Colonel White considered himself a committee of one to make matters easy for the committee of two. Early in the day, on Monday, he called at the house of Professor Jones, at an hour when he knew he was absent, for he felt the necessity of all the assistance he could obtain, and relied upon Mrs. Jones and the children as his most efficient allies.

“Is the Professor in this morning, Mrs. Jones?”

“Not just now, sir. He has a recitation at this time. He will be in in half an hour. Take a seat, colonel.”

“No, I thank you, madam. I called to see Professor Jones about some important business. I will meet him at the college. There is a matter afloat, which I fear is going greatly to injure him in his future prospects, and I merely called, as a friend, to suggest some plan by which the ruin—for ruin I fear it will be—may be averted.”

“Why, Colonel White, what _can_ you mean?” asked the lady, in just that tone of distress and alarm which he desired to hear.

“Oh,” said he, taking a chair, and sitting down where he could look right into her face, “it may be nothing after all. Indeed, I don’t really believe it will amount to any thing; but still, there is, I _fear_, some danger that he will lose his situation in the college. There is a rumor abroad, you know, that he is about to become a Baptist—or, at least, that he has a little tendency that way; and there are _some_ of the trustees who are disposed to be _very particular_ about such things—too much so, as I may say. Now, for myself, I am disposed to be liberal; and I shall do what I can—in fact, I may say I have done what I could—to influence their action. You know I have always been in favor of Professor Jones. I know him to be a worthy man, and a very superior instructor; and I know he has the confidence—the implicit confidence, as I may say—of the whole community. And what if he _does_ entertain some heterodox opinions about a matter not essential to salvation? says I. Why, he is a good man, and that is enough for me. But you know, Mrs. Jones, people don’t all think alike; and I am dubious about what the trustees may take a fancy to do. But I can’t stay,” continued he, rising, and going toward the door. “I could not do less, as a neighbor, than just to call and tell you my fears. I will try to meet Professor Jones himself, and consult with him about what is to be done.”

He sallied out, and about the time that Professor Jones was starting for home, placed himself in the way as he came from the college building.

“I am sorry,” said he, “brother Jones, that our pastor used such expressions as he did yesterday. I don’t wonder that you became excited; I could not have borne it half as well as you did. But I am afraid you dropped some expressions that will injure you with the trustees. Some of them have been talking with me this morning. They say that you as good as declared yourself a Baptist, and they don’t see what further use a Presbyterian college has for your services. But I said, wait a while. Jones is a man of impulse. His feelings were touched yesterday, and he said more than he intended. He is as much a Presbyterian as I am. He will be all right in a week. I took the liberty to say thus much for you. I have always been your friend, and I mean to stand by you through thick and thin, so long as I can be of any service to you. I don’t advise you to conceal or falsify your opinions. I know you are incapable of doing _that_; but I merely suggest, since so much depends upon it—your own living, as I may say—that you will be a little more careful and prudent in your expression. Think what you please; but you are not obliged always to _tell_ all you think. You understand? I felt bound to give you this little hint. There may be more in it than you are aware of.”

Such thoughts as these had already intruded into the Professor’s mind. His wife had several times suggested something of the kind. Till now, however, the danger had seemed distant and undefined. It was indeed a dark cloud, but it hung low on the far-off horizon; now, it lowered above his very head, and covered all the heavens with its blackness. Nothing but utter ruin stared him in the face. He walked along home, almost blinded by the rush of fearful thoughts. He sat down in silence to his dinner. His wife seemed even sadder and more distressed than he was. Scarcely had he begun to eat, when she inquired:

“Have you seen Colonel White this morning? he was here looking for you. I _told_ you how it would be, when you first begun to meddle with this subject of baptism; but you could not be satisfied. And we are now to lose our pleasant home and all our means of support, and be turned out destitute upon the world, just because you would not listen to your wife, and let well enough alone.”

“Oh, not so bad as that I hope, my dear.”

“Well, I don’t know how any thing could be worse. Colonel White says the trustees are going to declare your professorship vacant, or something like it, because you have turned Baptist. And of course we must leave this house, which you know belongs to the college, though we have fitted it up for ourselves just as though it belonged to us. And you know you have never saved a dollar of your salary, though I am sure I never spent the half of it. I never could tell what became of it; and how we are going to live, I should like very much to know. If you depend on those ignorant and stingy _Baptists_ for a support, any body can see we must come to starvation. They could not do much if they would, and they would not do any thing if they could. I’m sure I hate the day they came here, to disturb the peace and quiet of our town. They have brought nothing but trouble to me.”

“But, my dear wife, things may not turn out so badly after all. I did indeed see Colonel White, and he told me, as a friend, that some of the trustees are a little piqued at my entertaining opinions on this subject different from their own; but with his influence exerted in my favor, I hardly think I shall lose my situation, at least till I can make other arrangements.”

“His influence! Why, he is the very soul and body of the whole business. You don’t know that man as I do. He can’t impose on me with his soft words. I could see the evil intention in his eye while he was talking about it to me. As soon as he saw how much it distressed me, I could see it did his very heart good. He is the very man that is working your ruin. And all I wish is that you had not yourself placed in his hand the club to beat your brains out with. If I were you, I would go to the trustees myself, and set the matter right.”

“What can I say to them, my dear?”

“Say? Why tell them, that though it is true that you have given a little time to the investigation of this subject, you are as good a Presbyterian as any of them, and have no more thought of leaving the Presbyterian Church than President McNought himself. I know you _love our church_. I have often heard you say so. It was good enough for your father and mother to live in and die in. It was good enough for Timothy Dwight and Jonathan Edwards to live and die in. It is good enough for Pastor Johnson, President McNought, your brother professors, and all the most intelligent, and influential, and wealthy portion of the town, and _I can’t see why it is not good enough for you_.”

“If I were only sure it is the Church of Jesus Christ, that would be all I could ask,” he replied; “but I must consider further of this matter.”

“Yes, I see how it will be; you will consider and consider till the mischief is done and we are turned out of house and home. But I know it’s of no use to talk to you. You will just go on your own way. I only wish you may never be as sorry as I am that you ever saw a Baptist.”

Night came, and with it came the committee appointed by the Session—the reverend pastor and the reverend doctor. They had previously consulted and arranged their plan of argument. Mr. Johnson knew it would not be worth while to go again over the same ground through which they had already traveled. They had in vain _searched the Scriptures_ to find a single precept or example to justify the baptism of infants. They concluded, therefore, they must make it out by _inference_.

“I understand,” said President McNought, “that you insist on some _express precept_ or _example_ for infant baptism, before you will receive it as a scriptural practice?”

“Oh, no,” said Professor Jones; “I am by no means particular about the _character_ of the proof. I only ask for Scripture evidence that it was either required or practiced. You may find that evidence in any form you can. You can’t find the _precept_ or _example_, that is certain. We have tried it. If you have any _other_ testimony, let us hear it.”

“The truth is,” said the D.D., “there was no necessity for the precept or example. The case was so plain, that the early disciples could not help understanding their duty, so there was no _need_ of commanding it.

“Children had _always_ made a part of the _Jewish_ Church, and unless there was something said to the contrary, they would of course be regarded as making a part of the _Christian_ church. If, therefore, you cannot prove that they _were absolutely excluded_ from the Christian church, it is most conclusively evident that they were received into it, though there should be no record of the fact.”

“To that,” said the Professor, “I might reply by saying that the baptism of infants, if required at all, is a positive institution of our religion, something _essentially binding_ upon the Christian churches. And it is difficult for me to conceive how you can make out a _positive obligation to perform a certain Christian duty in a church capacity_, from the mere fact that _not one word is said about it_. Your argument amounts to this. The Jews _circumcised_ their male infants at eight days old, because God had again and again positively and plainly _commanded_ them to do so; therefore Christians should _baptize_ all their infant children, both male and female, _because_ the Lord has given _no commandment on the subject_, and further, because we cannot find the slightest allusion to any of the first Christians as having done or refused to do it, nor any intimation that any person was ever expected to do it. Such logic may be very conclusive to you, but I can never be convinced by it.

“But I think I may safely venture to take the very ground proposed by you, and prove that _infants_ (according to your own language) _were absolutely excluded_, both by the commandments of the Saviour and the example of the early Christians. While looking in vain for any precept or example to justify the baptism of infants, we found enough both of precept and example to satisfy my mind, since I have come to reflect about it, that _infant baptism_ is absolutely and clearly forbidden.

“It is forbidden in the commission itself. The command to baptize _believers_ is a command _not to baptize_ any but believers. The command to make disciples _first_ and then baptize them, is a command _not to baptize_ any who are not first made disciples. If I tell my servant to go and wash all the old sheep in my flock, it is equivalent to a prohibition to wash the little lambs. If I tell him to cut down all the _dead_ trees in a grove, it is equivalent to a prohibition to cut any green and living ones—and if he should disobey me and cut the green ones also, I would not consider it a valid excuse, that I had _last year_, on _another plantation_, expressly ordered him to _girdle_ both green and dry. So the command to baptize _believers_ excludes all others; and as infants cannot believe, it excludes them from the very necessity of the case. Nor would I like to offer, for the violation of this command, such an excuse as this: Oh, Lord, I know that thou didst ordain _only_ the baptism of _disciples_ and _believers_—but as thou didst, under a _former_ dispensation, expressly command children to be _circumcised_, I thought thou wouldst prefer to have them baptized under this, although thou didst omit to tell us so. Would he not reply, What right had you to make ordinances for me? If I commanded the _Jews to circumcise their children_, it was their duty to do it; and when I command _Christians_ to baptize _believers_ and _disciples_, it is their duty to do _that_. ‘Ye are my friends if ye do whatsoever I command you.’ ‘But in vain do you worship me, teaching for doctrines the _commandments of men_.’

“And as a prohibition may be fairly inferred from the _command_, so it may also from the _examples_. Among all the multitudes who came to John and were baptized of him in Jordan, there was _not a single infant_. John required repentance and faith in the coming Messiah as an indispensable prerequisite. He taught them that the _Father’s_ faith would not avail in this new dispensation. ‘Think not to say unto yourselves, we have Abraham for our father; but bring forth for yourselves fruits suitable to repentance.’

“Those who were baptized by Jesus and his disciples, were also adult believers, for the Pharisees heard that Jesus made and baptized more disciples than John. He _made disciples_ before he baptized them. Of the three thousand mentioned as added to the church upon the day of Pentecost, there was _not one infant_, nor did they bring an infant with them. Of the five thousand, a few days after, there was not one who was not an adult believer. They were men and women. Of the great multitude who believed and were baptized in Samaria when Philip preached, there was not a single little child. The Evangelist expressly classes them all under two heads, ‘both men and women.’ And nowhere, in a single case, is there even an intimation that there was a child baptized, nor is any one ever reproved for the neglect to have it done. Now if _this_ does not absolutely exclude them by example, I do not see what force there is in example. I reply to your argument, therefore, first, by proving that even if infants had _not_ been _expressly excluded_, there would not be the slightest warrant for their baptism; and, second, by showing that they _were_ absolutely excluded, both by Christ’s command and the practice of the early Christians.”

“Then,” said Mr. Johnson, “you are unwilling to believe that ‘baptism has come in the room of circumcision,’ as I have been accustomed to inform my people every time an infant has been baptized in my church for twenty years.”

“Oh, no, Mr. Johnson—not at all. I am very willing to believe it—I may almost say, I am very desirous to believe it. All I ask is that you will give the _slightest Scripture proof_ of it. You are too good a Protestant to ask me to take _your word_ for it, or even the often repeated _assertions_ of all the clergy in the land. Give me _one text of Scripture_ to prove it, and I am as ready and willing to believe as even yourself can wish.”

“You know,” replied Mr. Johnson, “that we teach that baptism is instituted by Christ—that it is a seal of the righteousness of faith, and that the seed of the faithful have no less a right to this ordinance under the Gospel than the seed of Abraham to circumcision under the Old Testament.”

“Oh, yes—I know _you teach_ this. I have heard and read it a hundred times: and I have no doubt most of our people think you have Scripture to show for it. It is not enough, however, for me to know that _you_ teach it; I want that you should show me where the _Lord Jesus_ teaches it, or where he authorizes _you_ to teach it. Where is it _said_ or even _intimated_ ‘that the seed of the faithful have no less a right to this ordinance under the Gospel than the seed of Abraham to circumcision under the Old Testament?’ If it is in the Bible, you can show it. If I read correctly, the seed of Abraham had a right, or rather were in duty bound to circumcise their male children at eight days old, _because God expressly commanded it_—to give the children of believers the _same right_ to baptism would therefore require an _express commandment_ that they should be baptized. But you know full well there _is no such_ command. I have heard a great deal of, to me, unintelligible jargon about ‘federal holiness,’ and ‘covenant holiness,’ and the ‘covenant of circumcision,’ and the ‘Abrahamic covenant,’ etc., etc. There may be a great deal of sense and Scripture in it, but I can’t understand it. I want a plain Scriptural statement of the facts. You say that baptism came in the room of circumcision. Show me where the Word says so. Show me any thing like it.”

“If you will take the Confession of Faith,” replied the Doctor of Divinity, “and turn to the 147th page, you will see the texts upon which this doctrine rests.”

“Well, here is a copy. Let us find them. This is coming to the point. If any text is mentioned or referred to which gives to the _infant children_ of believers the same claim to baptism that the descendants of Abraham had to circumcision, or even intimates that baptism has come in the room of circumcision, I am satisfied. This is all I want.”

The book was handed to the pastor, who found the page, 147, and read as follows: “Gen. xvii. 7, 9, with Gal. iii. 9—‘And I will establish my covenant between me and thee, and thy seed after thee, in their generations, for an everlasting covenant; to be a God unto thee, and to thy seed after thee. And God said unto Abraham, thou shalt keep my covenant therefore, thou, and thy seed after thee, in their generations.’”

“Stop a minute,” said the Professor. “Let me turn to the place in the Bible. We will understand it better to read it in its connection. Here it is, Gen. xvii. 7⁠–⁠9. Why did they leave out the 8th verse—‘And I will give unto thee, and to thy seed after thee, the land wherein thou art a stranger; all the land of Canaan, for an everlasting possession; and I will be their God’? This makes it all very plain. God agreed with Abraham that he would _give_ his seed the land of Canaan for a possession forever; and as a condition, on the other part, he required (see 10th verse) that every man child should be circumcised. I can understand all that; but what has it to do with baptism or Christianity? No more than the carrying of the bones of Joseph out of Egypt.”

“Oh, yes it has, Professor Jones, for we read in Gal. iii. 9—”

“Stop a minute, till I find the place. Now—but let me read it; I will begin at the 6th verse: ‘Even as Abraham _believed_ God, and it was counted unto him for righteousness. Know ye, therefore, that they _which are of faith_, the same are the children of Abraham. And the Scripture, foreseeing that God would justify the heathen _through faith_, preached before the Gospel unto Abraham, saying, In thee shall all nations be blessed.’ And now comes your proof-text—‘So then they which be of _faith_, are blessed with faithful [believing] Abraham.’ Now, I think I can understand this; but for the life of me I can’t see one word about baptism in it, or of circumcision either. There is no more allusion to either, than there is to the lifting up of the brazen serpent in the wilderness, or the giving of the law on Sinai, or the falling down of the walls of Jericho. Abraham _believed_ God. So Christians _believe_. Abraham was _blessed_ for his _faith_. It was counted to him for righteousness. So _we_, who believe, are also blessed with believing Abraham; and that is all. There is surely no infant baptism here. What is the next?”

“It is Romans iv. 11, 12: ‘And he received the sign of circumcision, a seal of the righteousness of the faith which he had, being uncircumcised; that he might be the father of all them that believe, though they be not circumcised,’ etc.”

“I have it here,” said the Professor, as he found the chapter; “and to understand the sense, I see it will be necessary to begin at the first of the chapter. Paul is proving that justification is by _faith_, and not by _works_. So he says even Abraham _believed_ (third verse), and it was counted [or reckoned] unto him for righteousness; and in the tenth verse, he asks, how was it reckoned? _before_ he was circumcised or after? It was before. He had the faith, and he received the sign of circumcision as a seal of the _righteousness_ of faith. And the Apostle goes on to argue, that if faith was counted to _him_ for righteousness, while he was yet uncircumcised, so it will be counted for righteousness to all who believe in Christ, even though _they_ should not be circumcised. But what has all this to do with baptism? The subject is never mentioned or alluded to. The sentiment is the same which is expressed in Galatians—Abraham believed, and believing, he was blessed. So Christians, believing as he did, will like him be blessed; and thus all believers may be counted as _his children in faith_. The only allusion to circumcision here, is made to show that _it_ had nothing at all to do with the blessedness of faith. To baptism there is no allusion at all. If you will satisfy me that baptism has come in the room of circumcision, so that the law of circumcision was transferred to baptism, you must give me something better than this; and if there were any thing better, the Confession of Faith would have quoted or referred to it. I take it for granted, therefore, that these are the strongest proof-texts you can present. And if they prove any thing at all, that has any bearing whatever upon the point at issue, it is that _all_ the members of a Christian church must of necessity be professed _believers_. The seed of Abraham enjoyed certain blessings (the possession of Canaan) in virtue of circumcision, but the _righteousness of faith_ pertained to Abraham, as he was _un_circumcised, and now belongs to those who are his children, not by circumcision, or by any thing that came in the room of it, but by the same faith which he exercised. Those who _believe_, and _only_ those, are to be partakers of the blessing. Christianity is a _personal_, individual, and not a _hereditary_ religion. In the New Dispensation, _every_ man stands on _his own_ foundation, and is responsible for _himself_ to God.”

“I do not see,” replied the President, “why you should think it necessary to have any Scripture to prove a familiar and notorious _fact_. It is well known that circumcision was the _initiatory_ ordinance of the Jewish Church, and we all agree that baptism is the initiatory ordinance into the Christian church. Of course, then, it takes the place of the other. It bears the same relation to the Christian, that the other did to the Jewish Church. _It is the door of entrance._ Now, the church of God is, and has been in every age, substantially _the same_, although existing under different names; and consequently, the character of the persons admitted to membership must have been the same. These persons among the Jews were admitted by circumcision, and among Christians by baptism. They were the infant children of church members among them; and so, of course, they must be among us. We don’t need any express _text_ to prove this, for it is self-evident from the general tenor of the whole Word.”

“Your argument,” replied Professor Jones, “is simply this: Infants were members of the Jewish Church; and, as the church of God is always substantially the same, they must be members of the Christian church. The _door_ of entrance is changed, but there is no change in the character of the persons who are to enter it.”

“Yes, that is precisely what I mean, Whatever other changes were made, there was _no change in the membership_.”

“Then,” said the Professor, “you mean precisely what is certainly not true. Jesus Christ, when he commanded the _new_ door to be opened, commanded also that different persons should _enter_ it. To the Jews he said, bring in your male children and servants at eight days old. To Christians he says, bring all who _believe_ in the blessed Gospel which I send you to preach. If he made the one change, he just as clearly made the other. Believers—as Mr. Johnson and I have seen in our examination of the word—he plainly commands to be baptized; but he commands _no others_, and no others ever were baptized in all the history which the New Testament records. Neither is it true that Christianity is _substantially the same_ as Judaism. It was one of the most earnest labors of Paul to explain and enforce the difference. This difference was substantial—it was fundamental—it was constitutional. The other was a religion of _works_; this is one of faith. That was one of outward forms; this of inward affections. That consisted of the whole Jewish nation, both the evil and good; this is confined to the truly converted. That was a national establishment, and this an assembly of true believers, from which all are to be excluded but the pious in heart and the holy in life. This substantial and fundamental change, we, as Presbyterians, recognize in fact, though we deny it in theory. We _say_ that infants are church members, but we do not, in this: country, _treat_ them as such; we do not _address_ them as such; we do not, in fact, consider them as such. You, in your preaching, are continually urging the baptized children who have come to years of discretion, ‘to come out from _the world_;’ and when they are converted, you urge them _to join the church_. It is true that, by the Confession of Faith (p. 504), you are required to inform them ‘that it is their duty and their privilege to come to the Lord’s Supper,’ whether they give evidence of conversion or not, provided only that they are intelligent and moral. But you _never do it_; and half our members would not believe that we have any such rule. In other countries, however, this is done. Our theory is carried out into practice, and the church is filled with unconverted men and women. This is the legitimate result of infant church-membership.”

“I am very sorry,” rejoined the pastor, “to hear you talk in this way. I fear you are preparing great trouble for us, and are about to bring down terrible sorrow upon your own head and that of your family. I had hoped, for the honor of our beloved church, that you would have thought better of these things. We have, however, done our duty. The Session deputed us to reason the case with you, and endeavor to convince you of your errors; but we find that you _will not be convinced_. Let us hope, however, that you will consider further, and carefully weigh the unanswerable arguments which we have presented, and let them have their full influence upon your mind. There may be more dependent on it than you are aware of. I suppose it is not worth while to spend more time upon the subject; so we will bid you good-night.”

Professor Jones understood very well the ominous import of this parting address. He knew that his home, his employment, his all, depended on the will of a few men, some of whom would take pleasure in rendering his condition as wretched as possible, so soon as they had no further hope of binding him to themselves. And he knew, on the other hand, that those to whom he would go, had neither influence to aid him, or profitable employment to furnish him the means of support. As soon as the reverend committee had retired, he fell upon his knees, and offered up to God his thanks, that thus far he had not been tempted to deny his truth, or falsify the solemn convictions of his conscience. And then, in view of what he now began to feel would be inevitable, he prayed for strength to obey all the Master’s will, and trust God for the consequences:

“Oh, my God! I see before me nothing but trouble and sorrow. Want and affliction stare me in the face. Lord, give me strength to welcome them, or at least, firmly to endure them. Thou canst bring good out of evil. I commit my destiny into thy hands. I have trusted my _immortal soul_ to thee; why may I not trust my body and my family? Thou hast promised to save the one and to provide for the others. Help my unbelief! I must go out like Abraham, not knowing whither I go. I look to thee, my Father in heaven, to open the way before me.”

As he was rising from his knees, the remark of Theodosia, as she came from the water with her face so full of heavenly joy, came back to his mind with tenfold force and beauty—“Uncle, dear uncle! it is _blessed to obey_! Can’t you give up _all_ for Christ?”

“Yes, yes,” he unconsciously exclaimed, “I will—I do give up all. I will follow where duty leads, let the consequence be what it may. I will resign my professorship to-morrow. God will provide in some way for my wife and children.”

The conversation which we have recorded took place in his private study. On returning to his family room, he was delighted to find there his sister, Mrs. Ernest, and her daughter, and also, Mr. Courtney, who had called to have a little conversation with Theodosia, and finding they were about to start out, had accompanied them on their visit.

Mrs. Jones had been so anxious about the result of the conference with the committee, that she could not enjoy the society of her visitors, nor even exert herself successfully for their entertainment. She was, therefore, greatly relieved when her husband came in and took that task upon himself.

“I wish I had known that you and Theo. were here,” said he, “I would have turned the reverend committee who have just left me over to you.”

“I do not understand what you mean,” said Mr. Courtney.

“Only this. My brethren in the Church Session have learned that I do not any longer believe that sprinkling is baptism, or that any but believers are to be baptized. And they have deputized Dr. McNought and Pastor Johnson to endeavor to bring me back into a belief of their human traditions. Their main argument at this time was on the baptism of infants as founded on the usage of the Jews. Baptism, they said, has come in the room of circumcision; and as infants were circumcised, so infants must be baptized. What answer would you have made?”

“I would have said: Gentlemen, you do not _yourselves believe_ that baptism came in the room of circumcision in any such sense that the same order of persons who were circumcised are to be baptized; or, if you _believe_ it, you do not act _out_ your faith. The law of circumcision included only males, but you baptize both males and females. The child, when it was _possible_, was to be circumcised at eight days old, but you baptize at any other time. The servants and the slaves, whether old or young, whether born in their house or bought with their money, were to be circumcised, but you never baptize them—but only the children. They were to be circumcised by the parents and not by the priest; but you require baptism to be done by the minister. If the law of circumcision is transferred to baptism in _one_ particular (without any New Testament authority) it is equally transferred in all the others.

“Then I would have said further: Baptism _could_ not come in the room of circumcision, because _circumcision is still in force_. No room was ever made for the second by taking away the first. The truth is simply this: God made a covenant or agreement with Abraham, when he was ninety-nine years old, in which he promised to his seed the land of Canaan. The token or memento of this contract was the circumcision of every male. This was the condition of their entering Canaan. This is now the condition of their restoration to it. The promise still stands. The Jews are still a separate people. This is their _mark_. By this they are yet to claim their inheritance. This is its object, and this the sum of its value. The covenant has not been revoked. It is still in force and its seal or token still remains.

“God made with Abraham _another_ covenant some twenty-four years earlier, in which he promised him, among other things, ‘That in his seed should all the nations of the earth be blessed.’—Gen. xii. 3. This is what Paul refers to when he says, Gal. iii. 8—‘The Gospel was preached unto Abraham, and Abraham believed it.’ He trusted in the Christ to come, and so was, in a certain sense, a member of Christ’s church. So was Noah—so was Enoch—so were all who like Abraham believed God, and it was counted unto them for righteousness. They were not introduced into it by _circumcision_—nor was Abraham himself—for it was twenty-four years after he heard and believed the Gospel, before he was circumcised. He was a member of Christ’s mystical body, and an heir of the _heavenly_ Canaan, without the seal of circumcision. By _it_ he and his seed became the heirs of the _earthly_ Canaan. This was its object, and no more. The blessings of the Gospel are to us, as to him, the result of _personal faith_. Thus, they who are of faith, are blessed with [believing] faithful Abraham; and thus far, and no further, this first-made covenant with Abraham extends to us. If we believe as he believed, we shall be blessed as he was blessed. This is all that any one can make out of all that is said of the relationship of the Patriarch and believers.

“I should have said to them further: Gentlemen, _you_ call the Jewish _nation_ the church of God, and tell us that the Christian church is the same under a different dispensation. But Christ calls that nation _the world_, in opposition to his church. The disciples to whom Christ spake, John xv. 19, were men in good and regular standing in the Jewish nation, which you call the church. Yet Christ says, I have chosen you _out of the world_—and therefore the world, that is, the Jewish nation, hateth you. Paul was not only a member, but an _eminent_ member of this Jewish body; but he says that _he was a persecutor of the CHURCH OF GOD_. Nicodemus was a ‘master in Israel;’ but Christ told him he could not come into _his church_ till he had been born again. The Jews needed conversion as much as any, before they could make any portion of the _church_ of God. This church God set up for the _first_ time when John began to preach. For the first time he organized a visible assembly of penitent, believing, holy persons. There were good men, pious, devoted men and women, among the Jews; but they were not gathered into _a church_. The Jewish nation had some religious privileges; but it was not in the Gospel sense _a church_. And when Christ established his church, he made the terms of membership such as were intended to preserve its purity and separation from all national politics. People were not to be born into it, but to enter it by _faith and baptism_. ‘He that believeth and is baptized.’ But by the introduction of infant baptism, the object of this arrangement is entirely defeated.”

“I have often thought,” said Theodosia, “since my attention has been directed to the subject, what disastrous consequences must follow if the theory of Pedobaptism were fully carried out, and infants actually recognized and treated as members of the visible church.”

“If you would fully realize what the consequences would be, you have only to go to those States of Europe where this is actually done. You will see men who blaspheme their Maker on the way to church, go and partake of the Holy Supper. You will see them leave the church where they have so partaken, and openly resort to the ball room, the horse race, the drinking saloon, the gambling house, the cock pit, and even to the very lowest and vilest haunts of dissipation. They are members of the church. They were made such at eight days old. When they could say the catechism they were confirmed, and informed, according to the directions of the Presbyterian Confession of Faith, that ‘it is their duty and their privilege to come to the Lord’s table.’ To be baptized in infancy and confirmed in childhood, are all that is needful to church membership. That _faith_ required by the Gospel, they laugh at. They call those who profess to know any thing about it in their own experience, deluded enthusiasts. They know no more of religion than its external ceremonies. They have the form of godliness, but deny the power. Such was the Presbyterian Church to which Dr. Carson preached in the North of Ireland. ‘In the general disregard of religion,’ says his biographer, ‘the people of his charge were not behind their neighbors. Horse races, cock fights, and other forms of sinful diversion were frequent, and were numerously attended even by professing Christians. The soul of this pious servant of God was deeply grieved. He knew well the heaven-born excellence of Christianity, and clearly understood what should be the fruits of the Spirit, but he beheld around him only the works of the devil. He rode into the throng that crowded the race-course, and saw there the members of his own church flying in every direction to escape his sight.’ … ‘His church was composed of worldly people, whom neither force nor persuasion could bring into subjection to the Laws of Christ.’ In Germany and some other European States, _every body_ is in the church. Every body is recognized as a church member. Thieves, gamblers, drunkards, and prostitutes are members of the church. There is no such thing as the world. The church has swallowed it up. It has taken all the infidelity, all the atheism, all the blasphemy, all the vice, and all the depravity of the world into its own bosom. This is the natural and necessary result of receiving all the _infants_ as church members. The church has ceased to be the body of Christ, and has become a loathsome mass of hypocrisy and vice. There may be in it some few good and pious believers in Jesus. There are in it many upright, and honorable, and moral citizens: but these, as _church members_, are not at all to be distinguished from the basest profligates that issue forth from the recking stews of infamy. They have all alike been baptized in infancy and confirmed in childhood, without _any profession of conversion to God_—most of them denying the necessity of any such change, and all sit down alike to the same table of the Lord.”

“Surely, Mr. Courtney, you do not mean to speak thus of the _Protestant_ churches of Europe! I know it is true in regard to the Catholics; but since the Reformation, it cannot be true of any others.”

“Yes, Mrs. Jones, I mean to say this of the Protestant churches, wherever they have become _national_ churches, and by the process of infant baptism have absorbed the whole population. It is _necessarily_ true of _any_ church which receives its members in this way. It would be true in _this_ country, if you Presbyterians, and the Episcopalians, and Lutherans, and Methodists could by any means accomplish what you all so earnestly are laboring to attain—viz.: to induce _all the people_ to have their children baptized.”

“Oh, no, Mr. Courtney. You must have conceived a terribly mistaken idea of what we are all aiming at. We desire, I trust, as much as the Baptists themselves, to keep our churches _pure_, and are as strict in our terms of membership and as rigid in our discipline as _you_ are. We want our churches to consist, as they now do, of godly people, and would not for a day permit such as you have mentioned to remain in our communion.”

“I know it, Mrs. Jones; but in order to do this you are obliged continually to repudiate your own acts, and deny in practice what you teach in theory. I was speaking of what the result must be, provided you could induce all the people to have their infants baptized, and should then recognize these baptized ones as church members _in fact_, as you do in _theory_.

“Listen one minute, and I will satisfy you that what I say is strictly true. You teach that, as circumcision was the door of entrance into the Jewish Church, so baptism is the door of entrance into the church of Christ. If so, all who are baptized are church members. Now, _you Presbyterians_ say all the children of _believing parents_ must be baptized. In your churches you baptize all the children of those parents who have been baptized. The Episcopalians baptize _any_ child for whom proper sponsors will stand. The Methodists will baptize _all_ the children, with or without believing parents. Now, if you could succeed (as by sermons, books, tracts, and newspapers you are all striving to do) in convincing all the people that you are right, and prevail upon them to bring _all_ their children, and have them thus initiated into the church of Christ—I ask you of whom, _in the next generation_, would the church consist? It would be composed of these infants, then grown to manhood. If that generation be like the present, or the past, it will consist mostly of unregenerate men and women. A few will be converted—many will be moral—most will be wicked, and many will be most vile. They will all, however, have entered into the church of Jesus Christ by the door of baptism, and will every one be members of Christ’s visible kingdom.”

“Oh, no, Mr. Courtney; we would exclude the wicked and unworthy by process of discipline.”

“Who would exercise discipline, Mrs. Jones? This would be a body of _unregenerate_ men. They would have no love to Christ or his cause. The power of discipline is in their own hands. If they exclude all that do not give evidence of piety, they will exclude themselves. They will do no such thing. They may exclude the _openly_ and _scandalously vicious_, for the reputation of their denomination, while there are several sects striving for the supremacy; but if (as in those countries I spoke of) any one sect could swallow up the rest, and by connection with the State become the _national religion_, then a man would hold his right to the Lord’s Supper, and all the privileges of the church, by about the same tenure that he held his right to vote or to exercise any other privilege of citizenship.”

“But if this is so, Mr. Courtney, why don’t we see at least some illustrations of the principle among us now? Why are not _our_ churches now filled with unconverted men and women?”

“Simply because you don’t act out your principles. Your churches _are_ filled with unbelievers, but you refuse to recognize them. You daily repudiate your own acts, and continually falsify your own theory. You baptize infants, and you _say_ you do it _to introduce them into the church of Christ_. But you _don’t believe it_. You never treat them as church members. You give them none of the privileges of church members. You don’t count them in the list of your church members. They do not regard themselves as church members. They do not claim or enjoy any of the privileges of membership. They do not exercise the discipline of the church on others, nor are they considered subjects for its discipline. They are practically as separate from the church as the children of an infidel or a Hottentot. It is thus, and _only_ thus, that you retain any degree of purity in your actual membership. Your church consists _in fact_, of believers, and not, as your book says, of ‘believers and their children.’ You thus obviate one of the evils of infant baptism, by a virtual repudiation of the act and regarding it in practice as a nullity. Mrs. Ernest does not look upon her son Edwin as a member of the church. She did not consider you a member, Miss Theodosia, till about a year ago, when you professed your faith in Christ, and as they all expressed it, ‘_joined the church_.’ How could you be said to _join_ it, if up to that time you had not been considered as _separate_ from it? The baptized children are urged, like others, to come out _from the world_, and to _unite_ with the people of God, when they have believed in Christ; and those who have thus _believed_, and made themselves a public profession of their faith, you count as members; and to them and them alone you give the privileges of members. And this simple fact, that you are obliged to treat the baptized infants, _when_ they grow up, as though they had not been baptized at all, in order to preserve the spirituality and purity of the church, is of itself sufficient proof that your celebrated historian, Neander, tells the truth when he says ‘It is certain that Christ did not ordain infant baptism.’”

“Well, Mr. Courtney,” replied Professor Jones, “is there any other argument you would have urged upon the attention of my reverend visitors, had you been present?”

“Yes, sir. I would have said further: Gentlemen, if you found infant baptism on Jewish circumcision; if you declare, that the Christian and the Jewish Church are the same, but only under different dispensations; and that because infants were circumcised in the old, infants must be baptized in the new, how can you get rid of the necessity for a _national_ church? The Jewish Church was a national church: it united Church and State. The Christian is the same, and _it_ must consequently be a national establishment too. We must unite the Church and State. For this, every Christian should strive. Of this union, where it exists, no Christian should complain; for there is certainly as much Scriptural authority for it as there is for infant baptism. And further, gentlemen, you must receive and recognize not merely three orders of the ministry, like the Episcopalians; not merely deacons, priests, and bishops, but also a grand and supreme ruler of them all, similar to the Pope. The Jewish polity had its common priests, its chief priests—who controlled certain numbers of the others—and its _High_ Priest, who was above them all. So, to correspond, there should be the Presbyters, the Bishops, and the Archbishops, if not the Pope. This has quite as much, and the same sort of Scriptural authority as infant baptism. To this, they would have replied, by saying, that the constitution of the Christian church is to be found in the _New Testament_, and that we learn what its officers were, by seeing what ones were ordered or recognized by Christ and the Apostles; and they neither commanded nor recognized but _one_ order of ministers. This is good logic, I do not object to it. But I ask if the _membership_ of the Christian church is not designated in the New Testament even more clearly than its _officers_? If baptism is the door of entrance, show me a single instance where any one is permitted, much less commanded, to enter in upon the faith of any but himself. Show me any instance in which an infant was received, or ordered to be received; any in which one was recognized as a church member, or even where there was the slightest allusion to him as such. They cannot find one; and so, upon their own principles, must take the whole paraphernalia of Episcopacy, and Church and State, or give up infant baptism.”

“But, Mr. Courtney, as you say that among us Presbyterians in this country, infant baptism is a _mere nullity_, as we don’t count the baptized as church members, or give up the discipline of the church into their hands; as they have, in fact, no more to do with the church than other people, and cannot, therefore, injure its standing or diminish its spirituality, what _harm can it do_ to baptize infants?”

“What harm! Alas! madam, I am incompetent to tell the thousandth part of the harm that it has done, is doing, and will continue to do so long as it is practiced. Pardon me, if I decline attempting to answer your question.”

“Well then, if you can’t tell what harm it does, why do you talk so much against it?”

“I can’t tell! Oh, yes, but I _can_ tell. I can tell so much that you would not have the patience to hear. I can tell such things of it, that you would almost think it impolite to mention. And that is, in truth, the reason why I felt disposed to decline a proper reply to your question. If I should speak of this act, which _you_ perform as a religious _duty_, as I think it deserves, I should characterize it as a _heinous sin_, an act of daring rebellion against God; and this you would think scarcely becoming in me as your guest. If I should tell you all the harm I know of infant baptism, instead of convincing, I should probably make you angry. You have been so long accustomed to look upon it as something sacred and holy, that you could hardly avoid feeling indignant at hearing what I, after careful and prayerful study of the subject, have come to think of it.”

“I don’t see how you could say much worse things about it than you have already; but I assure you that I will keep my temper, let you say what you may. So you may consider yourself as having full license to say to me in my own house, any thing that you would feel at liberty to say to me or any one any where else.”

“Yes,” rejoined Mrs. Ernest, “do go on and tell us all you think about it. I have some curiosity to understand just what you Baptists do think of us Presbyterians. I know you have a very mean opinion of us, but I would like to know just how mean it is.”

“Go on, Courtney; you have the ladies’ curiosity excited now, and you will be obliged to gratify it. If you don’t _tell_ what you think, they will imagine it is something very horrible indeed. For myself, I am satisfied now that it is a thing _not commanded_, and therefore I would not practice it; but I don’t see what great _harm_ there is in it. It is a simple ceremony, and if not required, a very _useless_ one; but I don’t see who is hurt by it. We are, however, all of us prepared now to hear hard things from the Baptists. We don’t look for any thing else.”

“I should be very sorry to believe that Baptists were accustomed to say hard things _of_ their opponents, whatever they may feel it their duty to say _to_ them. Mrs. Ernest thinks I have a very mean opinion of Presbyterians. She is utterly mistaken. Many of the best and most earnest-hearted children of God whom I have ever known are Presbyterians. I not only esteem them highly, I love them dearly. I love them not only as Individuals, but as Christians. I count them my brethren and my sisters in the Lord; but at the same time, I think they have been educated in error, and are in some things most grossly deceived. They are to that extent wrong in their faith, and wrong in their practice. The more I love them, the more I would rejoice to set them right. I hate error and wrong in them as in others. I oppose it; I reason against it; I denounce it in them as well as in others. It is not their persons, but their _opinions_ that I war against. In most cases, I do not even esteem them less for holding these erroneous opinions; for I know they are sincere and conscientious. They have been deceived by those who have instructed them. They have never had the truth laid fairly before their minds. Early education, denominational attachments, and prejudices have enveloped their intellects in such a cloud, that it is hard for the clear light of Scripture truth to find its way into their hearts. I was as honest and sincere when I believed that sprinkling was baptism, and that infants were to be baptized, as I am now. So was Miss Theodosia. Nor were we suddenly convinced that we were wrong. The light shone in little by little. What was at first a doubt, became a certainty by patient investigation. It is not long since I said, as you do—infant baptism is not commanded. It is not authorized by the Word of God, but still it is only a useless ceremony. Let those who will, engage in it. No good is done; but yet it does no harm. Since that time, I have studied the subject more carefully. The more I looked at it, the more fearful it appeared. And I am now fully convinced, that he who baptizes an infant in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, _is guilty of a most enormous sin in the sight of God_! And this is not less true because good men have done it, and are doing it still. Good men have often been ignorantly guilty of most enormous crimes. That excellent and holy man of God, Rev. John Newton, was for years after his conversion engaged in the slave trade. It was then considered a reputable and righteous business. Many good men of the past generation were engaged in the manufacture and sale of intoxicating drinks. It was then considered a legitimate and Christian calling. No good man will engage in it now. Their ignorance was their excuse. God forgave them as he did Paul for persecuting his people—because he did it ignorantly, and verily thought he was doing God service. His conscientious sincerity did not, however, make the act a righteous one. The deed was still one of terrible wickedness and daring impiety. So I say of those who practice infant baptism; so I would say _to_ them if I could. They may be good men. Some of them are good men—earnest, warm-hearted, devoted Christians; but they are ignorantly _sinning against God_. It may not be becoming in me to _reprove_ men older, and better, and more useful than myself; but surely I may entreat them, as my brethren and fathers, to do ‘_no more so wickedly_.’”

“But what is there so wicked about it, Mr. Courtney?”

“Much every way. In the first place, if you will excuse me for talking so plainly, _infant baptism, as practiced by Presbyterians in this country, is a continually repeated falsehood_!

“You _say_ that ‘baptism is a sacrament of the New Testament, ordained by Jesus Christ, not only for the _solemn admission_ of the party baptized into the visible church, but also to be unto him a sign and seal of the covenant of grace, of his ingrafting into Christ, of regeneration, of _remission of sins_, and of his giving up unto God, through Jesus Christ, to walk in newness of life.’—_Con. of Faith_, p. 144.

“Now, this is either true or false. If it is _true_, then the person baptized _is admitted_ into the visible church of Christ. You say it is true, and that you _do thus admit_ him; but, at the same time, if I point you to one of these members thus received in infancy, staggering from the grog-shop, and ask you if he is a member, you tell me—_No_. You would be ashamed to think that such a wretch had any connection with your church. Is his father a member? Yes, one of the best men in the church. Did he have his children baptized? Yes, I suppose he did. Has this man ever been excluded? No, you reply, he never _joined_ the church. He grew up a wild and reckless boy, and has always been a vicious, dissipated man. He was never in the church; nobody ever thought of such a thing. There is an amiable young lady, moral, irreproachable in her character; but she makes no pretensions to _religion_—she is perfectly indifferent to it. Is _she_ a member of your church? Oh, no; our members are all spiritual-minded Christians. She has never even expressed a conviction of sin, or even the slightest desire to join the church. Why do you ask if she is a member? Simply because I remember when she was _baptized_. Does not baptism admit persons into the visible church? Yes; but we never _consider_ them as members till they make a profession of religion and join the church again. Then your baptism is a solemn falsehood, for it does not admit into the church at all.

“But now, if you take the other horn of the dilemma, and say we _do_ admit them—then I reply, you are guilty of introducing into the church of Christ wicked and unregenerate men and women. If you recognize them as members, and treat them as members, you at once destroy the distinction between the church and the world. The church no longer is Christ’s kingdom. It is no more a body of _his_ people. It consists, in part at least, of the wicked and profligate _descendants_ of his people.

“But you say, further, that baptism is to the baptized ‘a sign and a seal of his ingrafting into Christ’—‘of his regeneration’—and of ‘remission of his sins,’ etc. Now this is true or it is false. You _say_ it is true. A mother brings her babe to have it sprinkled. It is a beautiful child, and she verily thinks she is doing God service—and is, herself, a lovely object, as she stands there with the infant in her arms. But now I ask you, Is that child ‘regenerated’? Is he a ‘branch ingrafted into Christ’? Are all his ‘sins forgiven’? In other words, is he a _believer_ in Jesus Christ? You say—_No_, it is absurd to think of such a thing. Then, I reply, your baptism _is a falsehood_—for it is designed to signify and seal these things, which, in this subject, do not and cannot exist. To a _believer_ in Christ, baptism has all this significancy; but to an unconscious babe it can have none at all. There is not, in fact, in your minds, the slightest suspicion that the child is born again and ingrafted into Christ; and yet you say to the world, that this ordinance is designed to signify and seal the fact that such is actually the case.

_“Is it no harm thus, in the house of God, as a religious act, and in the very name of Jesus, to proclaim such practical falsehoods to the world?”_

“I declare, I had never thought of it in that light before. Have you any other charge to make against it?”

“Yes; I say, in the next place, that _the baptism of an infant is an act of high-handed rebellion against the Son of God_.”

Mrs. Jones and Mrs. Ernest both lifted up their hands in utter astonishment. The former looked at him as though she expected to see him drop down dead after making what seemed to her such an impious announcement.

“That is the most astounding statement,” said the Professor. “But I know you would not make it, unless you thought you had the evidence to sustain it.”

“What!” said Mrs. Jones, “The evidence to prove that it is _wicked!_—positively _wicked!_ to baptize a child; an act of rebellion!—high-handed rebellion! Well, I will try to be quiet, just to see what the man can say. Go on, Mr. Courtney; we are all attention.”

“Yes,” resumed Mr. C., “I have said it; and I will prove that it is not only _rebellion_, but rebellion attended with such circumstances as mark it with a character of peculiar malignancy. Not only a sin, but a _terrible_ sin; most flagrant in itself, and most terrific in its consequences to the church and to the world.”

“Really,” said Mrs. Jones, “I am curious to know how you will make it out.”

“You know,” said Mr. C., “that you Presbyterians are accustomed to count some requirements of Christ as essential, and some as non-essential—or, at least, less essential than others. Now when Christ came into the world, _one_ great object, if not _the_ great object of his mission, was to establish his visible church. He set it up himself. He instructed his disciples carefully in the nature of its laws, and especially those organic or constitutional laws which lie at the very foundation of the whole superstructure. To _these_ laws especially he must have attached great importance. Willful disobedience to these fundamental rules, which regulated and fixed the very _nature_ of the visible kingdom he established, must have been regarded by him as a rebellion of no common order. Now the _most important_ of these fundamental rules was that which fixed the terms of membership in his kingdom. This lay at the foundation of the whole business. The character, the influence, the prosperity of his new kingdom, must depend upon the character of the persons of whom it was composed. Now the Jewish kingdom, though it had in it much of good, and was a beautiful type of better things to come, yet it had included more of the evil than the good. In it the wicked dwelt in the land, and the righteous were among them. But now Christ was organizing not a _temporal_, but a _spiritual_ kingdom. His dominion was to be one of interior rule—by the power of love. The subjects of this kingdom were to be _converted men and women_, who loved God and lived to his glory. No one could belong to it, as he told Nicodemus, who had not _been born again_. This was his church. It was designed to be a permanent and living illustration of the power and the purity of his religion. The members of this church were to be his living epistles, known and read of all, describing the nature and results of his religion in their hearts and lives. No fact is more clearly evident than this. The church is not only commanded to be holy—exhorted to be holy—but it is said to be holy, and addressed as though it was thus holy. It is always and everywhere regarded as a body of professedly converted men and women. As many as were baptized into Christ had put on Christ. They were those who trusted in Christ. They walked by faith. They lived, but not they—it was Christ that lived in them. They had been sinners, but were called to be saints, and now had an inheritance among them that were sanctified. They were a peculiar people, zealous of good works. Not of the world, not like the world, for Christ had chosen them out of the world. Such was the church as he established it, and such he intended it should continue to the end of time. Now to secure to it this character, he determined that none should be admitted into it but those who repented of sin, and believed on him with saving faith. The door of entrance into this church was by the ordinance of baptism. Consequently, when any one repented and believed, and gave evidence that he was born again, he was to be baptized, and henceforth counted among his people. The very nature of the church, and the object of its establishment, required that _no others should ever be admitted_. How then, I ask, can he look without abhorrence and indignation upon _that act_, in which a minister of this church—claiming to act by his authority—subverts the very foundation of his church, changes its nature, and defeats the very object of its establishment, by introducing into it, knowingly and willfully, persons who are confessedly not penitents, not believers, not regenerate, but the children of wrath even as others.

“If baptism converted them—if by the act itself they were regenerated—there would be some excuse for this course; but no one of _you_ will pretend to believe that it has any such influence. You know that a baptized child grows up a sinner, just as his unbaptized brother does. _Doctors of Divinity_ talk about such things; but no man or woman of common sense believes that the sprinkling of a little water on a baby’s face changes its heart, and makes it a new creature in Christ Jesus. If it is introduced by this act into Christ’s visible church, it comes in a sinner, as it is born; it comes in an unconverted, impenitent, and unbelieving sinner—just such a sinner as Christ forbade his ministers ever to introduce. And now what is the consequence? Let us look at the history of the church. It is enough to make one who loves Jesus and his cause weep tears of blood, to see what have been the results of this rebellious departure from the instructions of the Master. For the first two or three hundred years the church remained what Christ intended. It was a body of professed believers. All history accords to its members a character of singular uprightness and purity. It was a light shining in darkness. But when infants, instead of converts, began to be introduced, its whole character was changed. Its spirituality was gone. Its very ministers were worldly men, contending for wealth, and place, and power. In the course of a few generations, it had, like the national churches of Europe of the present day, swallowed up the world. All the villainy and depravity of the land was in the church, or in that establishment that _called itself_ the church of Jesus Christ. No Pagan, not even the tiger-hearted Nero himself, was so cruel in his persecution of the Christians, as this body of baptized infants became when it grew up to manhood, and was invested with the power to kill. Nothing which the most infernal hatred could suggest, and the most diabolical ingenuity could invent, was thought too hard for these baptized ones to inflict upon those who professed faith in Christ, yet would not conform to their newly introduced rites and ceremonies. The most bitter and relentless persecution was directed especially against those who denied infant baptism. This has continued through every age. It has not been confined to the Roman Catholics. It has been practiced by all the so-called churches _that received infant members _(your own included) whenever and wherever they have been able to obtain the power. The world has been deluged with the blood of the saints, shed by these members of the church, whom men, professing to be _his ministers_, have, in his name, though against his authority, introduced in their infancy. Now I say, the act which thus subverts the very nature of the church of Christ, and leads to such terrific consequences, _is no common sin_. Such perversion of the very fundamental law of his church is no common rebellion. It is a great and terrible crime. It has led to great and terrible results even in the present world. Its consequences, even here, have been so terrific, that our very hearts shudder but to think of them; what they may be in the eternal world, we cannot conceive.

“But I will go further. I said ‘the baptism of an infant was a _sin_—an act of high-handed _rebellion_ against God.’ I have proved it. I will now say even more than this. _Infant baptism is impious_—it is an act of sacrilege.”

“Be careful, Mr. Courtney, be careful|” exclaimed Mrs. Jones. “This is a solemn subject. You should not thoughtlessly make use of words which convey such horrible impressions.”

“I _am_ careful, Mrs. Jones. I have chosen these words deliberately, because they are the only words that will fully express my meaning. I mean to say that it is _impious_ for a professed minister of Jesus Christ to stand up in the presence of the world, and in HIS name, and by HIS authority, perform, as a solemn and sacred ordinance of HIS religion, an act which HE NEVER COMMANDED OR AUTHORIZED! I regard it as a fixed fact, that there is no such commandment or authority. We have been searching for it carefully; we cannot find it. It is not in the book. And now the question comes up—‘Even if it be not commanded, what _harm_ is there in it?’ This is the question we are endeavoring to answer. I say, _If God has not commanded it or authorized it, then to perform it as an ordinance of HIS religion, in HIS name, and by HIS professed authority, is an act of impious sacrilege!_ It can be nothing less. I know your preachers do not so _intend_ it; I know that they would shudder at the very thought. They verily believe _they_ have the authority. They do it _ignorantly_, as Paul persecuted the church. But though their ignorance may, in a degree, excuse their conduct, it does not change the nature of the act. And for one who has studied the subject, who has looked for the authority and failed to find it, as we have, for such a one thus, in the name of God, to do what God has not required, must require a degree of temerity which I trust few of the professed ministers of Christ possess.”

“I declare, Mr. Courtney, it fills me with a sort of horror to hear you talk. I am almost sorry I insisted on your saying any thing about this subject. I don’t and can’t believe that what you say is true. And yet I shall never be able again to see an infant baptized without a feeling of terror.”

“But why can’t you believe that I tell the truth? Have I not proved every position by the Word of God?”

“Oh, as to that, any body can prove almost any thing they please by the Scriptures. Unitarians, and Universalists, and Methodists, and Episcopalians, and all sorts of people, find plenty of proof in the Bible for all they teach.”

“Then how are God’s people to know what he requires of them?”:

“Well, I don’t see as we _can_ know with any certainty. I have been raised a Presbyterian, and taught that they were right; and I believe I had as soon risk my soul on their faith as any other. I don’t see as I need to give myself much trouble about it.”

“You do not deny, Mrs. Jones, that you ought to obey God rather than man, and that the Scriptures are a perfect and infallible rule of faith and practice?”

“Oh, no, I grant that; but the difficulty is, that I can’t understand just what they teach. If I could know what they require, I must believe and do it. But Mr. Johnson tells me one thing, and you tell me another, and the Methodist tells me another; and between you all, I don’t know really what I must believe or do.”

“I will tell you, then. God will hold _you_ responsible for _your own_ faith and practice. You are not, therefore, to rely on me, or the Methodists, or on Mr. Johnson, but you are to go to the Bible for _yourself_. If there is any command to baptize infants there, you can find it, and you can read and understand it as well as a Doctor of Divinity. Do not take for granted that what they say or what I say is true, but _search the Scriptures_ for yourself. Make use of all the helps you can, but don’t let any one convince you that any doctrine is taught, or any practice required, by the Word, till _you can see it in the Word_. You will not find the teachings of the Scriptures to be either doubtful or contradictory when you go to _them_, and are _willing_ to believe and practice just what they teach. Doctors of Divinity may contradict each other and themselves, but God’s Word is not a book of doubtful oracles. It speaks plainly; it speaks decidedly; and it speaks always the same thing. Try it yourself with reference to this subject. Your pastor tells you that he has authority in the New Testament to baptize infants. Ask him to _show it to you_. If it is there, he can find it. You can see it as well as he can. He will, perhaps, refer you to the commission, Go baptize, etc.; but you will say, this is only a commission to baptize _believers_. It does not say a word about believers _and their children_, but only about believers. He will then remind you that Jesus said, Suffer the little ones to come unto me, etc. You will reply, they did not come to be _baptized_, but to be _prayed_ for: ‘And he laid his hands on them, and departed.’ This is good authority to _pray_ for children, and to devote them to God by faith, and seek his blessing on them, but none for baptizing them. He will then remind you that Peter says, ‘the promise is to you and to your children.’ You will reply, this is a promise of the ‘gift of the Holy Ghost,’ not of baptism; and, moreover, it is limited to those ‘whom the Lord our God shall call;’ and God does not call unconscious babes. He will then tell you, that ‘the unbelieving wife is sanctified by the believing husband, etc.: else were your children unclean, but now are they holy.’ To this, your good sense would reply, that there is here not a word about baptism; and if the child is to be baptized because it is holy, so ought the infidel husband and the infidel wife, for they are also sanctified or holy. He will then seek to find some _example_. He will tell you, that there were a number of _families_ baptized, and it is _almost_ certain there must have been infant children in _some_ of them. You turn to each place, and find that they who were baptized are the same who are said to have heard the Word, believed in God, rejoiced in God, spake with tongues, glorified God, ministered to the saints, and, in the case of Lydia’s family, are called _brethren_. Finding neither precept nor example in the New Testament, he will turn to the Old, and tell you about the covenant with Abraham, the seal of which was _circumcision_, and was applied to the children. Now, he will say, this covenant includes Christians too; for Paul says, All that believe are the children of believing Abraham. And if his children by nature were circumcised, his children by _faith_ must be baptized. To this you will reply, true, his children by _faith_ are to be baptized, but who are they? Paul says, they are _believers_, not the infant offspring of believers. You will say, further, the Jewish infants were circumcised because God _expressly commanded_ it to be done. But God never commanded Christians to baptize their infants. On the contrary, he directed only the penitent, the believing, the regenerate, to be baptized, which expressly excludes infants; and not a single infant ever was baptized during the period of which we have the history in the Scriptures. He has nothing more to offer. This is the substance and the sum of what _he calls_ Scriptural authority. Dare you now, with this light in your mind, consider the baptism of an infant an ordinance of God? I say, then, try it for yourself. Search the Scriptures, as the Bereans did, and see if these things are so. I do not ask you to take _my_ word for one solitary fact or circumstance. Go to the Book. Go not to cavil, but to learn. Go not to twist an argument out of it, but to ascertain your duty. Study it; pray over it. Don’t rest till your mind is _satisfied_. If _you can’t find_ infant baptism in the Word, you may take it for granted _it is not there_, even though all the Doctors of Divinity in Christendom assert the contrary. If you _do find it_, bring the Book, and show it to us benighted Baptists, and we will practice it; for we do earnestly desire, if we know our own hearts, to ‘do whatever Christ commands us.’ If you find it, it will be your _duty_ to bring it to our notice; for in that case we are in most woeful error. If you are right, we are most _fearfully_ wrong. If God has commanded us to baptize our infants, we are living in open and avowed _rebellion_. But we desire to obey; and if you will show us our error, so far from growing angry, we will _thank you_ for the care that you show for our good.”

“There is much in what you have said,” replied Professor Jones, “that strikes me with amazement. I cannot deny, that infant baptism is in opposition to the Word of God; but yet, I have never conceived of it as the terrible thing you have represented it. I see, however, that it must be even so. If it does not introduce people into the church, it is a falsehood on its very face; for this is what it pretends to do. If it does introduce them, then it evidently subverts the very foundation of the church, as a body of believers. And if God has not commanded or authorized it, it must, indeed, be impious to do it in his name, as though he had. I cannot deny this; but you made some statements concerning the results of its introduction, which I do not feel disposed to receive solely on your assertion.”

“My dear sir, I don’t desire you to receive any thing on my assertion. What I do not _prove_, I beg you will consider as though I did not say. I don’t intend to make any assertion, that I cannot sustain by the very best of testimony.”

“You said that infant baptism was not introduced in the time of the first Christians, nor until several hundred years after Christ. And that all churches, both Protestant and Catholic, who had embraced it, had persecuted the saints whenever and wherever they possessed the power. All this is quite at variance with what I have always regarded as the truth. I do not deny that it is so, but I cannot believe it without the evidence.”

Mr. Courtney glanced at the clock, as he replied:

“It is now near bedtime. We will not have time to-night; but at any time you may suggest, I will convince you that I did not speak without reason. I will prove to you, by the testimony of the ancient Fathers, by the testimony of _your_ own most eminent historians and divines, that what I said is strictly and entirely true. I will show you, that infant baptism was introduced in the same way, and by the same sort of authority, that pouring and sprinkling were—only that it began at a somewhat earlier day. I will show you, too, what were the consequences to the true believers, who refused to sanction the innovation—how they were driven out to dwell in caves and dens of the earth—how they were tortured and tormented—hunted like wild beasts; and that not a few hundreds, or thousands, but millions have gained a martyr’s crown—slain for the testimony of Jesus; not by Pagans; not by infidels; not by the people of the world; but by _the members_ of the (so-called) churches of Jesus Christ, made members in their infancy by this ‘_blessed_’ ordinance of infant baptism. Where shall we meet?”

“Oh, come back here,” said Mrs. Jones. “I begin to feel a sort of fearful interest in your strange teachings; something—if you will pardon the comparison—like I would expect to feel in the dying speech of some outlawed wretch, denouncing, on the very scaffold, all that good men hold dear and sacred. I do not mean any disrespect, but I cannot think of any thing else which will so well describe my emotions. I shudder while you talk, to think that you should dare to speak of one of the most beautiful and holy rites of our religion as of a deadly sin; and yet I want to hear all that you have to say. Sister Ernest and Theodosia will come over with you again to-morrow night.”

“So be it, then. We will meet here to-morrow night.”

THE NINTH NIGHT’S STUDY.

Of the time and manner in which the baptism of infants was substituted by men for the baptism of believers, which Christ commanded.

Ninth Night’s Study.

There was no one of the company that assembled at the Professor’s house on Tuesday evening, to continue this discussion, who looked so anxiously for the time of meeting, as did Mrs. Jones. The idea that an act which she had always regarded as one of the most beautiful and holy of all the rites pertaining to our holy religion, was really no part of that religion, but in fact directly opposed to it, and forbidden by it, had haunted her mind continually ever since the last night’s conversation. She had awakened her husband at midnight, to tell him that she should ever after be afraid to see an infant child baptized—and all the day she had been anxiously looking at the arguments of Mr. Courtney, as she called them up one after another in her memory, but could see no fallacy in the reasoning, though it led to what she considered such fearful conclusions. One reflection, however, gave her some comfort. Infant baptism _could not be a sin, otherwise good men could not have practiced it_. She was sure, therefore, that there must be some defect in his reasoning, though she could not see it.

And when they had come together, she began the conversation by asking Mr. Courtney if he had not said that he regarded Presbyterian and other Pedobaptist ministers as good and pious men?

“Certainly; I said that I knew some such. Men of God, whom I love as my brethren in the Gospel. And I know personally of no one among them whom I would be willing to condemn as being a worse man than myself.”

“But how can you say that, Mr. Courtney, when you know that they all practice infant baptism, and teach others to do so, which you say is not only a sin, but a most grievous sin: not only sin, but impious sacrilege? It seems to me you are the most inconsistent man I ever heard talk.”

“Will you permit me, madam, to answer your question by asking several others? Were Luther and Calvin and the Reformers good and holy men?”

“Of course they were, Mr. Courtney. No one has ever doubted that.”

“Was Archbishop Cranmer, who suffered martyrdom for his religion, under Mary of England, a good and holy man?”

“Certainly; he must have been.”

“Were our Puritan Fathers, who settled New England, good and holy men, deserving our reverential and affectionate remembrance for their Christian principle, which led them to sacrifice all for a conscience void of offense?”

“Most assuredly they were; but what has that to do with my question?”

“You will see, madam, when I have asked one more. Is it not a great and fearful sin to persecute and take the lives of men for their religious faith?”

“Of course it is; and no good man will do it.”

“And yet, madam, our Pilgrim Fathers persecuted the Quakers and the Baptists, and condemned them to banishment and death. Cranmer, before he was burnt, had been very officious and energetic in bringing Baptists to the stake. (See Neal’s History of the Puritans). Calvin procured the condemnation of Servetus for his religion, and Luther urged the princes of his country to persecute those who could not conform to his opinions. You see, therefore, that good and pious men may be led by their very piety (under mistaken notions of duty), to do things which are most fearfully wrong and sinful. Paul _verily thought_ he was doing God service when he killed the followers of Jesus; but his mistake did not make the action right. It was still a most awful sin. He did it ignorantly, and God forgave him. So he will forgive your Pedobaptist brethren who in their ignorance imagine they are obeying him in baptizing little children into his church. But the act is sinful, terribly sinful, nevertheless. You are to take _God’s Word_, not the example of those whom you consider holy men, as your standard of right.”

“If I did not misunderstand you,” said Uncle Jones, “you told us last night, that infant baptism was utterly unknown in the time of the first Christians. Now this is altogether at variance with what our ministers have always taught us to believe. I am sure that they have labored sedulously to make the impression on our minds, that from the very times of the Apostles till about six hundred years ago, no one had ever questioned that infants should be baptized. I am sure that I have been told again and again, from the pulpit and in private conversation, that it was the united testimony of _all_ the Fathers that infant baptism was received from the Apostles, and that we not only have no account of the time and manner of its introduction, but no history of any period of the church when it was not universally received and practiced.”

“Very likely,” replied Mr. Courtney. “Doctors of Divinity often deal in just such sweeping assertions. The same men who assure you that the New Testament _abounds_ with proof of infant baptism, though no man living or dead has ever been able to show for it a single precept or example, can well afford to make just such statements about history. And I say to them in this, as in the other case, If there be any record of infant baptism in the first ages of the church, you can _show it_, and I can _see it_. Your mere assertions are not worth a straw—bring in your proof.”

“But have they no such proof?” asked Mrs. Jones. “Surely the ministers of our church are as good and as truthful as those of any church, and would not make such assertions without good and sufficient authority.”

“I will answer your question, madam, by referring you to the writings of some of the most eminent ecclesiastical historians, who were Pedobaptists, like yourselves, but who would not stoop to falsify history to promote the interests of a creed. Let me ask your attention, and yours especially, Professor Jones, to the testimony of a very remarkable class of these witnesses. Soon after the Reformation, a project was set on foot by the Pedobaptist Protestants of Germany, to collect and embody in a permanent form all the known and reliable facts in the history of the early Christian churches. A great number of the most learned and eminent men of Europe engaged in the work. They had access to all the stores of ancient learning, and were fully competent to explore and appropriate them. Lutheran princes and powerful nobles were patrons of the work, and neither money nor labor was spared to make it a faithful picture of the ancient churches. It proposed to give the history of each century by itself; and as it was published at Magdeburg, its authors are commonly called the ‘_Magdeburg Centuriators_.’ It was executed with great care, and has ever since its publication been regarded as one of the most faithful and accurate records of early church history. Now, I want you to remember that there was not a single Baptist among these men; and then observe their language, which is as follows: ‘They [the Apostles] baptized only the adult or aged, whether Jews or Gentiles, whereof we have instances in Acts ii., viii., x., xvi., and xix. chapters. As to the baptism of _infants_ we have no example. As to the _manner_ of baptizing, it was by _dipping_ or _plunging_ into the water, in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, according to the allusions contained in the 6th of Romans and the 2d of Colossians.’ Thus they speak of the first century; and of the second century they say: ‘It does not appear from any approved authors that there was any change or variation from the former century in regard to baptism.’

“The learned and acute Erasmus, writing about the same time, says, in his Notes on the 6th of Romans: ‘It is nowhere expressed in the apostolic writings that they baptized children.’

“John Calvin, the founder of your Presbyterian Church, says: ‘It is nowhere expressed by the Evangelists that any one infant was baptized.’

“Ludovicus Vives, a name of high historical authority, says: ‘None of old was wont to be baptized but in grown age, and who desired it, and understood what it was.’

“Dr. Taylor, of the Church of England, says: ‘It is against the perpetual analogy of Christ’s doctrine to baptize infants; for besides that, Christ never gave any precept to baptize them, nor ever himself or his Apostles (that did appear) did baptize any of them. All that he or his Apostles said concerning it, requires the previous dispositions of baptism, of which infants are not capable.’—_Liber. Proph._, p. 289.

“Dr. Mosheim, who is universally known and regarded as high Pedobaptist authority, says, in his Ecclesiastical History of the first century: ‘No persons were admitted to baptism but such as had been previously instructed into the principal points of Christianity, and _had also given satisfactory proof of pious dispositions_ and upright intentions.’ Of the second century he says: ‘The sacrament of baptism was, during this century, administered publicly twice a year at the festivals of Easter and Whitsuntide. The persons to be baptized, after they had repeated the creed, confessed and renounced their sins, particularly the devil and his pompous allurements, were immersed under water, and received into Christ’s kingdom by a solemn invocation.’ Of course they were not unconscious infants.

“Neander, another of your own historians, who has a world-wide reputation, says expressly: ‘Baptism was administered at first only to adults, as men were accustomed to conceive of baptism and faith as strictly connected. We have all reason for not deriving infant baptism from Apostolic institution, and the recognition of it (which followed somewhat later) as an Apostolical _tradition_, serves to confirm this hypothesis.’

“Coleman, another of your own writers, and a citizen of our own country, says: ‘Though the _necessity_ of infant baptism was _asserted_ in Africa and Egypt in the beginning of the _third_ century, it was even to the end of the _fourth_ by no means generally observed, least of all in the Eastern Church, and it finally became a general ecclesiastical institution in the age of Augustine,’ which you know was at the beginning of the fifth century.

“Now tell me what sort of consciences your ministers must have when they assert, in the face of such testimony as this, from _their own most eminent historians_, that infants were always considered right subjects for baptism! But this is not all. We have positive proof that Constantine and Gregory, and a great multitude of eminent men whose history is recorded, and who are known to have been born of Christian parents and reared in Christian communities, were yet not baptized till they had made their profession of faith in mature years—while there is not on record a single, solitary instance of the baptism of _a child_ till the year of our Lord three hundred and seventy, and that was the son of the Emperor Vallens, which was thought to be dying, and was baptized by the command of his majesty, who swore he would not be contradicted; and moreover, this was not a little infant, but a boy of six years old.—_See_ _Robinson’s Hist_.

“Now, if in the face of this testimony they say that infant baptism was practiced, let them show the proof. Let them bring a single case. Let them prove their own most eminent ecclesiastical historians to be false witnesses, and we will attach all due importance to their statements.”

“But, surely, Mr. Courtney,” replied Mrs. Ernest, “our ministers cannot be acquainted with these testimonies.”

“It is their own fault then,” said he. “These books are in their libraries—they quote them on other subjects—and if they do not know what they teach on this, it is because they willfully close their eyes to the light in order that they may remain in ignorance.”

“You say,” rejoined Theodosia, “that these writers, who make such concessions, are Pedobaptists. They were members of churches which baptize infants by sprinkling. They were themselves baptized by sprinkling in their infancy; and yet they state, in most express terms, that it was not so commanded by Christ—it was not so ordained by the Apostles—and nothing of the sort was practiced by the first Christians, nor for several hundred years. How, then, could they conscientiously remain even for a day in their church connection? I cannot understand what sort of consciences such men have.”

“Nor can I, Miss Ernest, but I will let them speak for themselves. The learned Curcellæus is one of them, and he says: ‘Infant baptism was not known in the world the first two centuries after Christ. In the third and fourth it was approved by few; but at length, in the fifth, it began to obtain in divers places; and therefore,’ he continues, ‘we Pedobaptists observe this rite indeed as an ancient custom, but not as an Apostolic institution. The custom of baptizing infants did not begin before the third century after Christ, and there appears not the least footstep of it for the first two centuries.’ Or if you prefer a more recent exposition of their reasons, take Kitto’s Cyclopædia of Biblical Literature, a standard Pedobaptist theological work, and turn to page 287, vol. 2.”

“I have the book on the table here,” said Uncle Jones. “Here, Theo., find the place and read. Here it is.”

“‘Infant baptism was established neither by Christ nor his Apostles. In all places where we find the necessity of baptism notified, either in a dogmatic or historical point of view, it is evident that it was only meant for those who were capable of comprehending the word preached, and of being converted to Christ by an act of their own will.

“‘A pretty sure testimony of its non-existence in the days of the Apostles, may be inferred from 1 Cor. vii. 14, since Paul would certainly have referred to the baptism of infants for their holiness; but even in later days, several teachers of the church, such as Tertullian (De Bapt.) and others, reject this custom. Indeed, his church in general (that of North Africa) adhered longer than others to the primitive regulations. Even when the baptism of infants was already _theoretically_ derived from the Apostles, its _practice_ was, nevertheless, for a long time confined to a mature age.’

“Did you not say that the author of this work was a Pedobaptist, Mr. Courtney?”

“Certainly I did. It was prepared by a number of very learned and eminent Pedobaptist divines, and is regarded by Pedobaptists as a standard theological work.”

“Well, I must say, that Pedobaptist theological writers are strange people,” replied Theodosia, “but I will read on:—‘In support of a contrary opinion the advocates [of infant baptism] in former ages (now hardly any) used to appeal to Matt. xix. 14, Suffer little children, etc.; but their strongest argument in its favor is the regulation of baptizing all the members of a household or family, 1 Cor. xvi. 17; Acts viii. 8; xvi. 33; but in none of these instances has it been proved that there were little children among them. And even supposing that there were, there was no necessity for excluding them from baptism in plain words, since such exclusion was understood as a matter of course.’

“Surely, Mr. Courtney, the man is a Baptist!”

“Oh, no,” said Mr. Courtney; “read on. You will come to his strong reasons presently.” She read on:

“‘Many circumstances conspired early to introduce infant baptism. The confusion between the outward and inward conditions of baptism, and the magical effect that was attributed to it; confusion of thought about the visible and the invisible church; condemning all those who did not belong to the former; the doctrine of the natural corruption of man so closely connected with the preceding; and finally the desire of distinguishing Christian children from the Jewish and heathen, and of commending them more effectually to the care of the Christian community—all these circumstances, and many more, have contributed to the introduction of infant baptism at a very early period.’”

“Now we will come to _his reasons_. He has told us that it is not in the Scriptures; that it was not ordained by Christ; that it was not known to the Apostles; that it was the offspring of that error which attributed a magical influence to baptism, and to the mistaken idea that no one could be saved without it—together with numerous other circumstances; and now read on, if you please, and learn the reasons why he, notwithstanding all this, is a Pedobaptist.”

“‘But, on the other hand, the baptism of children is not at all _at variance_ with the principles of the Christian religion, after what has been observed on the separation of regeneration and baptism; for since it cannot be determined when the former begins (the real test of its existence being only in the holiness continued to the end of a man’s life), _the fittest point of baptism is evidently the beginning of life_.’ ‘Nevertheless, the profession of faith is still needed to complete it. Confirmation, or some equivalent observance, is therefore a very important consummation. The _fides infantium_ [faith of infants] is an absurd assumption of which the Scriptures know nothing.’ ‘On the other hand, the baptized child is strongly recommended to the community and to the Spirit of God dwelling therein, becoming the careful object of the education and holy influence of the church: 1 Cor. vii. 14, _Nature and experience therefore teach us to retain the baptism of infants_ now that it is introduced.’”

“Oh, yes,” said Mrs. Jones, “I always feel a much greater interest in children that have been baptized. It is such a blessed privilege to bring our little ones to God, and dedicate them to him in the presence of all his people.”

“For my part,” replied Mr. Courtney, “I greatly prefer Christ and his Apostles, to ‘nature and experience,’ as my teachers in religion. It is, indeed, a blessed privilege to be allowed to dedicate our children to God; and for doing this, we have full authority in the Word of God. We are to dedicate them by faith and prayer, and bring them up for him. But, let me say to you, in the language of Dr. Dwight, one of the most eminent ministers of your own church: ‘Nothing is a privilege, in the religious sense, but what God has made such; and he has made nothing such, except in his own way and on his own terms. Baptism is a privilege when administered and received in the manner appointed by him, _but in no other_. When this ordinance is received in any other manner, it is plainly no obedience to any command of his, and therefore has no promise—and, let me add, no encouragement to hope for a blessing.’”—_Dwight’s Sermons_, vol. iv. p. 343.

“I am almost afraid,” said Uncle Jones, “that you will think me captious; but I cannot yet feel quite satisfied about this matter. You have, indeed, shown very clearly, that many very eminent historians and standard writers, who, it is well known to all the world, were. Pedobaptists, have conceded—and, indeed, have in some sense _proved_—that infant baptism did not originate till the third century, or later. But yet, it seems to me that I have seen quotations from the early fathers themselves, which proved that baptism of infants had been recently practiced from the very first. Has there not been recently discovered some ancient manuscript, which throws light upon this subject? I am sure I have heard some rumor of such a thing.”

“You are not at all mistaken,” replied Mr. Courtney. “A manuscript of Hyppolytus was found, in 1842, in an Armenian convent on Mount Athos, in Turkey, by Minoides Minas, a Greek scholar of celebrity, who was employed at the time by M. Villeman to search for ancient books and manuscripts. This work has been carefully examined by many eminent critics and scholars, and there is now no doubt that it is genuine. Mr. Bunsen, a very noted Pedobaptist scholar, has made it the basis of a book on the early churches, in the preparation of which he consulted also the ancient canons and constitutions.”

“But pray tell us who was Hippolytus?”

“He was the pastor or bishop of the church at Pontus, near the mouth of the Tiber, in Italy, and had been a pupil of Iræneus. He lived in the early part of the third century, and probably wrote the work in question about two hundred and twenty-five or two hundred and thirty years after Christ.”

“Well, what is his testimony about baptism?”

“He says: ‘We in our days never defended the baptism of children, which in my day had _only begun to be practiced_ in some regions, unless it were as an exception and innovation. The baptism of _infants_ we did not know.’ And Mr. Bunsen, his translator and editor, adds (vol. iii. p. 180): ‘Pedobaptism, in the more modern sense—meaning thereby baptism of new-born infants, with the vicarious promises of parents or other sponsors—was utterly unknown to the early church, not only down to the end of the second century, but indeed to the middle of the third.’”

“But,” asked Mrs. Jones, “is there nothing at all in the early fathers in favor of infant baptism?”

“Not _one word_, madam, for the first two centuries—not even an allusion to it. It had not yet been invented. They had never _heard of it_; nor, so far as we can judge from their writings, had they so much as _thought_ of it.

“CLEMENS, who is counted among the first, and is said to have been a companion of Paul, says: ‘They are right subjects of baptism, who have passed through an examination and instruction.’

“IGNATIUS, of the same age, who is said to have been a disciple of John, and to have seen and talked with Peter and Paul, says: ‘Baptism ought to be accompanied with faith, love, and patience, after preaching.’ The other writers of this century were Clement of Rome, Polycarp, Hermes, and Barnabas (?); but it is admitted by those who have searched for it most diligently, that _not one word_ about infant baptism is to be found in any of their works. So also in the second century, Dr. F. A. Cox, as quoted by Orchard, says: ‘Justin Martyr, Athenagoras, Theophilus of Antioch, Tatian, Minucian, Felix, Iræneus, and Clement of Alexandria, constitute the Christian writers of this second century; who, so far from _directly_ speaking of infant baptism, never once utter a syllable upon the subject.’

“CLEMENT says, indeed: ‘The baptized ought to be children in malice, but not in understanding; even such children who, as the children of God, have put off the old man with the garments of wickedness, and have put on the new man.’ These are the only children he speaks of as having a right to baptism.”

“You mention Iræneus,” said Uncle Jones. “If I do not forget, I have heard him quoted as authority for infant baptism.”

“I have no doubt of it. Those Doctors of Divinity who consider baptism and regeneration as all the same thing, have discovered in his writings the following sentence: ‘Christ passed through all ages of man, that he might save all by himself; all, I say, who are by him _regenerated_ to God—infants, and little ones, and children, and youths, and persons advanced in years.’ Now, this is the _only_ allusion which it is pretended that Iræneus makes to infant baptism; and some have had the temerity, not to say the dishonesty—since they themselves consider baptism and regeneration as the same thing, and because Iræneus, in some _other_ place, uses regenerate in the sense of baptize—to strike out _regenerated_ here and put in _baptized_, and then refer to Iræneus as having recognized infant baptism.”.

“I am sure,” said Theodosia, “that the cause must be a very weak one which requires such support, and they must be very weak advocates of any cause who could stoop to employ such arguments in its favor.”

“So also it is claimed by some, that Justin Martyr recognized the baptism of infants, when he says to some aged Christians that they had been the followers of Christ from their childhood; or, as these men read, from their _infancy_. But it is well known that, in those days, all _minors_—that is, all under twenty-five years of age, for that was considered the limit of manhood—were often called children, and even infants. And we read of some instances of persons becoming bishops while they were _infants_—that is, before they came of age; and of many persons being led to martyrdom while they were _infants_, and making earnest profession of the faith which they felt in their hearts, and sealed with their blood. The Baptists will baptize as many such infants as desire to enter into the church of Jesus Christ. But you will not accuse us, on that account, of practicing the baptism of unconscious babes;[3] and these mentioned by Justin Martyr, are not said to have been _baptized_ in infancy, but to have followed Christ from their infancy. It is not till the beginning of the third century that we find the very first certain allusion to the baptism of children; and these were not babes, but little boys and girls old enough to _ask for baptism_, though yet too young to understand its import.

“By this time, salvation and baptism had begun to be regarded as inseparable, and loving parents began to inquire anxiously, What will become of our children if they die unbaptized? To this, the answer commonly given was, that they must be lost. Why not, then, baptize, and so secure their salvation? It seems that a certain wealthy lady, named Quintilla, who was probably a mother, and felt this very natural anxiety about her little ones, had come to the conclusion that if they asked for baptism, they ought to have it, whether they gave evidence of conversion or not; and she wrote a letter to Tertullian, the bishop of the church at Carthage, to get his sanction to this novel doctrine. The answer of Tertullian to this letter has been preserved, and contains the first undoubted allusion to the baptism of children which is recorded in the annals of church history.”

“If infant baptism had been a universal custom, as is pretended by some,” said Theodosia, “there never could have been any occasion for Quintilla to write to Tertullian on the subject, for children would have been baptized, as a matter of course, whether they asked for it or not.”

“Very true; and Tertullian would have replied to her, that it had always been the practice of the church to baptize the little darlings, and she need not even wait for them to ask for it; but he did no such thing. ‘Those who administer baptism,’ he says, ‘know very well that it is not to be rashly given.’ The good lady evidently thought that it was enough if the children could _ask_ for it, and had quoted the Scripture, ‘Give to him that asketh.’ To this, Tertullian says: ‘What! give to him that asketh! Every one hath a right to it as to a thing of alms! Nay! say, rather, give not that which is holy to the dogs; cast not your pearls before swine; lay hands suddenly on no man; be not partaker of other men’s sins.’ It would seem that she had referred to the cases of the Eunuch and of Paul, as having received the ordinance as soon as they asked for it. And to this, Tertullian replies: ‘If Philip baptized the Eunuch on the spot, let us remember that it was done under the immediate direction of the Lord.’ The Eunuch was a _believer_ of the Scripture; the instruction given by Philip was seasonable; the one preached, the other perceived the Lord Jesus, and believed on him. Water was at hand, and the Apostle, having finished the affair, was caught away. But you say, Paul was baptized instantly. True, because Judas, at whose house he was, instantly knew that he was a vessel of mercy. The condescension of God may confer his favors as he pleases, but _our wishes_ may mislead ourselves and others.

“This lady seems to have referred, as you do, to the words of Jesus, ‘Suffer little children,’ etc. And to this, Tertullian says, as Baptists do now: ‘The Lord does indeed say forbid them not to come unto me; and let them come while they are growing up; let them come and _learn_, and let them be _instructed_ when they come; _and when they understand Christianity, let them profess themselves Christians_.’

“In another of his works, Tertullian says: ‘Adults are the only proper subjects of baptism, because fasting, confession of sins, prayer, profession, renouncing the devil and his works, are required of the baptized.’

“It is evident, Therefore, that at this time, the beginning of the third century, the baptism of children had just begun to be spoken of.

“Now, strange as it may seem to you, your Doctors of Divinity are accustomed to base the strongest of all their historical arguments on this letter of Tertullian to Quintilla.”

“How is that possible?”

“They say, infant baptism must have _existed_, or Tertullian would not have opposed it. If it existed _then_, it must have existed from the _first_, because we have no history of its introduction, and no account of any previous opposition to it. And it is incredible that it could have been introduced without opposition.”

“And what answer,” said Mrs. Jones, “can you make to such reasoning as that?”

“We simply say that it did _not_ exist before. That this is the _first_ proposal to introduce it, and that it was opposed.”

“Very satisfactory, I declare! But what evidence have you that this was the first?”

“The best evidence that is possible: _It is the first on record_. If the advocates of infant baptism say there was any previous one, let them _produce_ it. But we might put our defence on different ground. We might admit that infant baptism was at the beginning of the third century a generally received and recognized _custom of the churches_, and yet it would not follow, by any means, that it was received from the Apostles or had any Divine authority.

“You do not believe that the Episcopal and Catholic rite of confirmation is of Divine authority, and yet it can be traced back as far as infant baptism. You do not believe that there is any Divine authority for signing the baptized with the sign of the cross, yet Tertullian distinctly recognizes _this_ as an existing custom in his day. So he does the giving of the newly baptized a mixture of milk and honey, and anointing them with holy oil. The doctrine of baptismal regeneration and of purgatory both date back to or before this early day, as do the observance of some of the feast days and fast days, and a vast amount of the most absurd and silly mummery of the Romish Church.

“The first we read of these fooleries, they were already in the churches; they had, so far as we know, never been opposed; they were there long before we find any trace of infant baptism there, and yet who of you will dare to say, on these grounds, that Christ and his Apostles ordained that candidates for baptism should be divested of their clothing—should have salt put in their hands—should be daubed with the priest’s spittle—clothed in white on coming out of the water—signed with the sign of the cross—anointed with chrism—walk from the water with a lighted taper in their hands, etc., etc.

“The truth is, the simplicity of the Gospel was corrupted even in the Apostles’ days; and it was not the least onerous of their labors to prevent and correct unauthorized additions to and modifications of their teachings. _The simple fact, therefore, that we find any doctrine or any practice in the churches at an early day, is no evidence at all that it was received either from Christ or his Apostles_. The Scriptures are our only guide. This you as Protestants admit, and by this you are precluded from all recourse to ‘the _traditions_ of the first Christians,’ in regard to infant baptism, or any thing else concerning the doctrines and ordinances of our religion. So that it is nothing to you nor to me if infant baptism had existed before Tertullian’s time. We have shown, however, that so far from being a general practice before that time, it then was for the first time proposed, and it required all the third and most of the fourth to secure it any considerable foothold in the churches, and that it did not become _established_ as an ecclesiastical institution till the time of Augustine, in the early part of the fifth century.

“It is true, as you may read in almost every writer on baptism, that _Cyprian_, who was the successor of Tertullian in the church at Carthage, received a letter from one Fidus, of whom nothing more is known than that he wrote such a letter, asking how soon after birth it might be proper to baptize. This was about forty years after Tertullian wrote to Quintilla on the subject. Cyprian, it seems, did not feel quite able to decide this momentous question, and called a council of sixty-seven of his brother bishops of North Africa, who gave it as their opinion that the ‘Grace of God should not be withheld from any son of man, and that a child might be kissed with the kiss of charity _as a brother, so soon as it is born_.’ This was in the year A.D. 257. It was this same Cyprian who gave it as his opinion that water poured about a person in bed (if he was sick and could not be immersed) would answer in the place of baptism.”

“What was the effect of this decree of the African Council?”

“It seems to have had none. It is likely that it relieved the doubts of Fidus; and infants were probably baptized in Africa to some limited extent, but we have no record of any such baptisms. One hundred years after this, Dr. Wall, the Pedobaptist historian, says complaints were common that mothers could not be prevailed on to put their children into the water at baptism. More than one hundred and twenty years after this, Gregory, the Bishop of Constantinople, gave his opinion on the baptism of infants or babes. These are his words: ‘But some say, what is your opinion of infants who are not capable of judging either of the grace of baptism or of the damage sustained by the want of it? Shall we baptize them too? By all means, _if there be any apparent danger_; for it were better they were sanctified without knowing it, than that they should die without being sealed and initiated. As for _others_, I give my opinion, that when they are three years of age or thereabouts (for then they are able to hear and answer some of the mystical words; and although they do not fully understand, they may receive impressions), they may be _sanctified, both soul and body_, by the great mystery of initiation.’

“But neither the decree of Cyprian’s sixty-seven bishops, nor the opinion of Gregory himself, seem to have convinced the common people; for in the next generation—at the beginning of the fifth century—the priests and bishops who had espoused the new practice, which they doubtless found profitable to their own purses, if not to the souls of the little water-made Christians, found it needful to meet in solemn council, and pass another decree, declaring that ‘Infants ought to be baptized for the remission of sins, and that all who denied this doctrine should be accursed.’

“Previous to this, great multitudes of believers, grieved and disgusted with the corruptions and innovations which had crept into the so-called Catholic Church, had withdrawn, and formed separate societies of their own. From the arguments and the decrees which were designed to bring these _heretics_ back into the bosom of Mother Church, it appears that they were, in some particulars, very much like our Baptist Churches.

“The Catholic bishop, Augustin, represents them as asking, ‘What good the sacrament of Christ’s baptism could do unconscious infants?’

“And to this question he replies, ‘That in regard to that matter, it is piously and truly believed that the faith of those by whom the child is presented, profits the child’ But as this reasoning did not prove sufficiently convincing, another council was called, which decreed, ‘That it was their will that whosoever denies that little children by baptism are freed from perdition and eternally saved, that they be accursed.’ And this decision being affirmed and sanctioned by the Pope, in 417, we may from that time consider infant baptism and baptismal salvation as established doctrines of that body which historians are accustomed to call the Church. But the decree, with its appended curse, proved insufficient to convince the stubborn-hearted Baptists. They refused to baptize their children, and they disowned the baptism of the Catholics by refusing to receive them into their communities till they had been baptized by themselves. This the Catholics called rebaptism, or Anabaptism; hence the name of Anabaptists, which has been applied to us almost to the present day. For these great crimes, the Catholics turned against them the strong arm of the secular power. They procured a decree of the Emperor, that not only those who rebaptized, but those who received the ordinance at their hands, should be put to death. ‘By this law,’ says Gibbon, ‘three hundred bishops, and several thousand of the inferior clergy, were torn from their churches, stripped of their ecclesiastical possessions, and banished to the Islands.’ From this day down to the present, in every country where Pedobaptists have had the power, our brethren have been the subjects of bitter and unrelenting persecution. We can trace them through the pages of history by the light of the fires that consumed them, and by the rivers of blood which they have shed in testimony of their faith. Millions and millions of these slaughtered saints are standing now with those who were beheaded for the testimony of Jesus; slain not by their pagan foes, but by their so-called Christian brethren!—by people whom your writers call ‘the Church,’ and whose history you record as the history of the Church!!!

“When this work of death commenced, they reproached Augustin (whom historians call a _saint_) with the death of their pastors, and told him that God would require at his hand the blood of these martyrs at the day of judgment. ‘Martyrs!’ he replied. ‘I know nothing about your martyrs. Martyrs indeed! Martyrs to the devil! There are no martyrs out of the church.’ We have not time to trace their history through the coming ages, under the different names which have been given them, as Donatists, Novatianists, Cathari or Puritans, Paulicians, Henricans, Petrobrusians, Mennonites, Albigenses, Waldenses, etc.; but let me suggest, if you desire to pursue the subject further, that you read Orchard’s History of the Foreign Baptists, which contains in a small space an immense amount of information concerning these persecuted and afflicted disciples of Jesus.”

“I do not think,” said Professor Jones, “that we need to spend further time upon this point now. I confess, for my own part, I am more than convinced. I only wonder that these facts are not more generally known.”

“They are public property,” replied Mr. Courtney, “and have long been known to Baptists; but your Pedobaptist friends will not read them or listen to them. And when we absolutely force them upon their attention, they take it for granted there must be some mistake about it, or else they would have heard them from their own ministers. But I agree with you that we have spent time enough in our present conversation; and as there is preaching at the court house to-night, suppose we adjourn to meet again to-morrow.”

“I hope you will meet here,” said Mrs. Jones, “for I have yet one very serious charge to offer against the Baptists.”

“Permit me, madam, to inquire what it is, that I may be better prepared to meet it.”

“It is your _close communion_. I am almost willing to admit that immersion is the only baptism, and that infants are not in the Scriptures required to be baptized—though even about these points there must be some mistake on your part, for our ministers are certainly as learned and as pious as yours, and yet they have always represented the facts as very different from the pictures you have drawn.”

“But you forget, Mrs. Jones, that it is by the testimony of _your own historians_ and _your own ministers_ that I have established these facts. I have scarcely quoted a single Baptist authority. The men who say that there is no precept or example of infant baptism in the Scriptures, are among the most learned and eminent of _your own_ writers. The men who say that the very meaning of the word baptize is to immerse, and that it was immersion only which was for ages practiced by the church, are such men as McKnight and Chalmers, among the most eminent of _your own Doctors of Divinity_. The men who say that it is _certain_ that infant baptism was not ordained by Christ or the Apostles, and was not introduced until after the second century, are such men as Neander, Coleman, and Kitto, among the most learned and eminent of _your own ecclesiastical historians_ and _Biblical critics_. Such men would not say such things unless the truth compelled them.”

“That is very strange, Mr. Courtney; but I can’t deny that it is true: and I may be convinced that you are right in these things; but I am sure I never can be reconciled to your practice of restricted communion.”

“Don’t be so certain of that, madam. I have no doubt I shall be able to show you to-morrow that _you Presbyterians are just as much restricted in your terms of communion as we are_. The only difference between us is on the question, What is baptism? But it is now time to go to the meeting.”

They found the house already filled, and the services had commenced when they arrived. They had not been there long, when those who stood near the door saw a horseman ride up and dismount. It was Mr. Percy. My reader will remember that, after writing that letter to Theodosia, he had gone to another county to attend the Circuit Court. He reached the place on Sabbath morning, just before church time, and attended the Presbyterian meeting. At any other time he would probably have made the fatigue of his journey an excuse for remaining at his hotel; but he was very unhappy that morning, and hoped in church to find some remission of the feverish anxiety which preyed upon his mind. He could not feel satisfied that he had done right in leaving off the investigation of the subject of baptism himself, or in endeavoring to prevent Theodosia from acting out her conscientious convictions of duty. He had wished a hundred times, as he rode along, that he had never written that unfortunate letter. Yet he never suspected for a moment the influence it was destined to have upon his own matrimonial prospects. That Miss Ernest loved him most devotedly he was well assured; nor did the thought ever enter his mind, that either this or any other event was likely to break off their engagement, or even postpone their marriage. But when he remembered the earnestness of heart with which she regarded every question pertaining to religion, he felt that he must have occasioned great distress to her; and he bitterly reproached himself that he had permitted his selfishness so far to triumph over his affection.

He had at first congratulated himself that he had made to her such an appeal as she _could not_ disregard, and consequently had secured the object which he had in view; but on reflection, he began to feel that he should esteem her more highly and love her more tenderly, if it should prove true that her religious principles were so strong and her sense of duty so predominant, that she would not listen even to the voice of _love_ itself dissuading her from the path of right.

He began to hope that she would disregard his entreaties and do her duty. He wished he could return in time to tell her that he would not for the world put any restraint upon her conscience. He comforted himself by the thought that, if his letter had any effect, it would only be to postpone her decision until his return, when he determined to take all difficulties out of her way.

When he took his seat in the church, his heart and his mind were in another place. Could he but know what had been her decision—where she was sitting then—what she was doing! He rose when the congregation stood up to pray—he sat down when the preacher said amen, as did the others, but he heard no sentence of the prayer. They sang an old familiar hymn to an air which he had learned in childhood; he joined in the singing, but when it was done he could not have told what was the tune or the words. When the preacher announced his text, he started as from a dream, and as he repeated it: “To him who knoweth to do good and doeth it not, to him it is sin”—the Spirit at once applied it to his heart. He felt that this was precisely the case with himself. He had examined the meaning of Christ’s commandment. He was satisfied that he had not obeyed it. He knew that it was his duty to do what Christ commanded, but he had deliberately and willfully refused to do it; and what was worse, he had exerted all the influence which he possessed to induce Miss Ernest to do the same.

The main thoughts of the sermon were, First, that men are always inclined to find excuses for their wickedness.

Second, there is no excuse more frequently offered, or more implicitly relied upon, than ignorance.

Third, that although ignorance, when involuntary and _unavoidable_, may be plead in mitigation of one’s guilt, as Jesus taught us when he said that he who knew not his master’s will and did it not, should be beaten with _few_ stripes—yet those who might learn their duty were _doubly_ guilty. Their ignorance itself was sin; and those who knew and acknowledged their duty, and yet neglected or refused to do it, had not even the shadow of an excuse. Whatever doubt there might exist in any other case, their sinfulness was certain, and their guilt was fearful.

As the preacher dwelt upon this last thought, an expression of agony quivered in the muscles of Mr. Percy’s face, and the tears started in his eyes. He rested his head on the pew before him, and covered his face to avoid the observation of those about him; and as soon as the congregation was dismissed, hastened to his room at the hotel, and passed the rest of the day in most distressful reflections on his past conduct and present condition. Not this one sin alone, but hundreds of others, nay, more than he could count, came rushing back upon his memory. A lifetime of sin—sin against light, sin against love, sin against deep and plain convictions of duty; sins of his early boyhood, sins of his heyday youth, sins of mature manhood, all crowded around him and seemed to call down Heaven’s vengeance on his head. He tried to pray, like the poor publican, God be merciful to me a _sinner_. But his prayer seemed to be reflected back by the ceiling of the room. It had no messenger to bear it up to the throne. He felt that he was lost. His sin had found him out, and he had no Saviour. His hopes were all gone. He knew not what to do. Night came, and he sat there on the side of the bed, without a light, feeling that the darkness of the night was light in comparison with the darkness in his heart.

His agony of mind was so great that he could not think. He could only feel. He would kneel down to pray, but he had no words to utter. He could only groan in his spirit. He would rise up again and sit upon the side of the bed. Thus the night wore away. At last he threw himself upon the bed, and from mere exhaustion fell asleep. When he awoke in the morning, his head was throbbing with pain, and his eyes were red and swollen. He excused himself from breakfast, and had a cup of coffee sent to his room. He felt that he could not attend to the business of the court, and sent for a lawyer of his acquaintance, made over to him a minute of his cases, with instructions to have them postponed if possible, and if not to appear for him. He then tried to consider what he ought to do in regard to his own condition as a sinner before God. It was not so much the fear of punishment that distressed him, as an _overwhelming sense of guilt_! “Oh!” he exclaimed, again and again, “what a sinner! What a sinner I have been! What a sinner I am! Can there be mercy for a wretch like me! God have mercy on me a sinner.”

After some hours he ordered his horse, and started for home. He passed another night of horror on the way—excusing himself for his speedy return, by saying what was very true, “that he did not feel well.”

The second day, as he rode along, he found his heart going out more frequently in prayer, not so much for _pardon_ as for _deliverance_ from sin. He loathed himself for his vileness, and longed to be delivered from the power of sin. And he began to think of Jesus more and more as a Saviour from _sin_ rather than from _hell_, until at length he found that he was looking to Jesus to _save him_ from _his_ sins. “Yes,” said he, “he came to save sinners—not the righteous, but sinners. And his name was called Jesus, because he saves his people _from their sins_. Will he not save me? But I am not one of his people. I am an outcast. I have betrayed him in the house of his friends. Can he, will he save _me_?” And the Spirit said, “Come unto me all ye that are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest. And _whosoever_ cometh I will in nowise cast out.” “Surely,” he replied, “that includes _my_ case. Blessed Jesus, save me. Save or I perish. Save, I cannot save myself. Save, I give myself into thy hands. Yes, I take thee for my Saviour. Thou wilt save me. Thou dost save me. Oh, precious, precious Saviour! Thou art indeed the Lord of my heart. Show me what thou wilt have me to do. I have nothing but sin, but thou hast all needful righteousness to plead for me. Be my intercessor. Be my Redeemer. Yes, thou wilt forgive—thou hast already pardoned. I trust my soul to thee, and I believe that thou art able and willing to keep it to the day of redemption.”

His distress was gone. He had found hope—he had found peace—he had found joy. He rode on home with a glad heart. What now had become of all his lofty aspirations for worldly fame and wealth. What did he care now for position in society, for professional reputation, for all indeed that but three days ago enlisted his desires. He counted them as less than vanity and nothing. One only question now filled all his heart, and that was “Lord, what wilt _Thou_ have me to do?”

He could understand now what Theodosia had meant when she talked so much about obedience to the Master’s will. It was with these feelings he rode into the town, ignorant of all that had transpired since he left—knowing nothing of the effect which his letter had produced on Theodosia; nothing of her baptism; nothing of the meeting which was in progress. He saw the light in the court house, and heard the singing—dismounted and approached the door—and learned that it was a Baptist meeting. Without further question he went in and sat down.

The sermon was on the importance of Christians professing Christ before the world. And at its close, the announcement was made that the church was ready to receive applications for membership—and candidates for admission were requested to take a designated seat while the brethren sang a hymn. They had scarcely commenced the second stanza when Professor Jones and Mr. Percy came from opposite sides of the room. Neither had been conscious that the other was in the house. Both their hearts were full, and who will wonder that when they met they rushed into each others’ arms, and wept upon each others’ necks!

Need I tell how Theodosia drew her heavy veil down over her face, and how her heart beat audibly while she listened for the words that should explain this mystery?

She was not kept long in suspense, Mr. Percy was the first to relate his experience of grace. He dated his conversion only a few hours back. “This very day,” said he, “for the first time I have been enabled to realize the pardon of my sins. I fancied some years ago that I had been converted, but am now convinced that I was self-deceived.” He then began at his early conviction of sin, and related the history of his connection with the Presbyterians—his recent examination of the subject of baptism. Though fully convinced that immersion was the only baptism, he had felt that it would be ruinous to his worldly prospects to change his church connections; and he told how it was that his sin had found him out in a distant town—what agony of mind he had endured for the past two days, and how it pleased God to speak peace to his soul as he was coming home. That he had seen the light in the court house, and learning that it was a Baptist meeting, had come in with the determination to ask for baptism.

I need not detain the reader by any account of the experience of grace which was related by Professor Jones. Nor need I attempt to describe the emotions of Theodosia, her mother, or Mrs. Jones, while this scene was passing. I will simply say that Uncle Jones and Mr. Percy, with some half a dozen others, were received, and Sabbath morning set as the time for their baptism.

THE TENTH NIGHT’S STUDY.

Which is mainly devoted to the subject of “Close Communion.”

Tenth Night’s Study.

In accordance with the request expressed by Mrs. Jones, as her visitors were about to leave on the previous night, our company of inquirers met at her house to hear her complaint about close communion. This subject had now assumed a new and touching interest to her. It had associated itself with her domestic affections. She felt that henceforth, in a very important sense, she must be separated from her husband; and though from the moment that she saw he had _decided_ upon being baptized, she had, from courtesy and affection, refrained from any further argument to _him_—yet her heart was full of reasons, which she longed for an opportunity to pour out upon some one else, showing that, in this particular at least, the Baptists were the most bigoted, selfish, conceited, and uncharitable people that ever deserved the name of Christians. Mrs. Ernest, though she had entertained the same opinion until her daughter and her brother had become associated with the people she had formerly so much condemned, yet was now almost ready to admit that they might be right in this, as well as other things. In truth, she was like a great multitude of both sexes in all our religious bodies, who never have any opinion of their own upon any disputed point of faith or practice. She had always had full faith in the learning and the piety of her brother Jones and her pastor Johnson. What _they_ said was true, she never thought of doubting. They were, to her, infallible as the priest to a Catholic. What had she to do with these knotty questions? Had not her pastor spent his life in studying them? and was it not in part for this that he was paid, to do the people’s thinking for them, and tell them what was the true faith and practice of a Gospel church?

But now, when her _brother_ doubted the pastor’s word, and even Theodosia had gotten the better of him in the argument, her confidence was gone; her mind was all unsettled; she knew not where to look for truth; she must have time to choose anew her spiritual guide; and in doing this, she was likely to be influenced more by her feelings than her judgment.

Mr. Courtney found Mrs. Ernest and Theodosia waiting for him when he called to accompany them to the Professor’s residence; and even Edwin had been diligently studying his lessons, that he might gain time to go with them and listen to the discussion. On their arrival, they found that the Rev. Dr. McNought, the President of the college, had called to take a friendly cup of tea; and, at the urgent request of both the Professor and Mrs. Jones, he consented to remain and take part in the conversation. Uncle Jones stepped out for a moment, and Mrs. Jones introduced the subject by saying:

“Don’t you think it hard, Doctor, that my husband has placed himself in a position that will forever prevent us from communing together at the table of the Lord? I declare it almost breaks my heart when I think of it.”

“It does indeed seem hard, madam; but we all know that Professor Jones has only acted in accordance with the requirements of his conscience. I do not think that any one who knows him can find any reason to blame him for any thing but too great haste in making his decision. If he had taken more time, and examined the whole subject with proper care, he must have come to different conclusions.”

“No, doctor, Mr. Jones did not act hastily. This is no new subject to him. He has been laboring over it for months, and I feared how it would end. He has examined it with the most careful attention, and decided with cool and prayerful deliberation. He knows every inch of the ground over which he has passed, and can give you a reason for every change of opinion that he has made. He is not a man lightly to change his faith on any superficial investigation; and that is what so much troubles me. I know when his mind is once decided, and he has openly expressed his conviction, he is immovable as the Rock of Gibraltar. I have no hope of ever winning him back. His path and mine are henceforth separate: I am a Presbyterian, he is a Baptist. He will abandon his professorship; he will engage in the work of the ministry. I shall go and listen to his preaching; I shall be present when he administers the Supper of the Lord, and neither I nor his sister here—who loves him more than any one in the world except myself—neither of us can partake of the elements at the table where our own brother and husband is presiding. He will be bound to reject us from the company of those whom he will call the saints of God, as though we were not Christians, and never expected to commune together in heaven.”

“As for me,” said Mrs. Ernest, “if brother ever becomes the pastor of a church, and thinks that I ought to be baptized, I shall let him baptize me. I suspect he is as competent to judge of the meaning of the Scripture as Mr. Johnson, if he only took the same pains to study into it. But I don’t see why the Baptists can’t act like other Christians. _We_ always invite them to _our_ table—why should they not invite us to theirs? Don’t we all trust in the same Saviour; and are we not all seeking the same heaven? I wonder if they expect there will be two tables up there, and they can sit down by themselves in the very presence of Jesus, and send every one who has not been under the water to another apartment? No, no! we will all commune together there, and we ought all to commune together here. I don’t blame brother or Theodosia for becoming Baptists, for I know they were compelled to do it by a sense of duty; but I do blame the Baptists for being so bigoted and uncharitable, and acting as though they thought nobody was good enough for heaven but themselves; and I don’t see as they are so much better than other people, after all.”

“You place the matter on the right ground,” replied Dr. McNought. “Every man ought to be fully persuaded in his own mind, and then ought to be at liberty to act out his own convictions of duty. We demand this for ourselves, we ought to concede it to others. If any one feels that he cannot obey Christ without being immersed, let him be immersed; but let him not say, that because _his_ conscience requires immersion, that therefore _every person’s_ must. I profess to love the Lord Jesus, and I desire sincerely and honestly, if I know my own heart, to obey all his commandments. But while Professor Jones has become fully convinced that the Lord commanded us to be immersed after we believe, I am as fully convinced that he commanded us to be sprinkled while we were yet unconscious babes. My conscience, therefore, is satisfied; and if I should be immersed, I should commit a grievous sin, for I would be doing that in professed obedience to Christ which Christ has never commanded. Now, Baptists have no right to ask me to violate my conscience, nor (I say it with all due respect to you, Mr. Courtney) have they any right to exclude me from the table of the Lord for not doing what I regard as a sin.”

“You set the subject in a very strong light,” replied Mr. Courtney, “and I am glad you do so. I wish to meet this difficulty fairly and candidly. I seek no evasion, and am willing to submit our faith and our practice, in this and every other particular, to the sternest and strictest Scriptural tests. If we are wrong, no people in the world should sooner hasten to get right than we, who have no law but the Scripture, and no leader but Christ. And now, let us look at your argument. You say that a church has no Scriptural right to exclude from her communion any person who professes to love the Lord Jesus, and desires to obey all his commandments, whether he regards those commandments in the same light which the church does or not. A great many professed Christians seem to see the subject in the same light. They say it is the _Lord’s_ table; and because it is his, and not ours, the church in which the table is set has no right to exclude from it any who profess to love the Lord, and who desire to approach it.”

“Certainly,” said Mrs. Jones; “I do not see how any body of Christians could ever have felt disposed to arrogate to themselves the authority to determine who shall and who shall not approach the table of the Lord, or upon what authority they can possibly rest so presumptuous a claim.”

“Doubtless, then,” mildly replied Mr. Courtney, “you will think it is a great exhibition of personal self-confidence, or of Baptist assumption on my part, when I assure you that I can prove, not only to my own satisfaction, but also to yours and Dr. McNought’s—

“I. That every church of Christ has the exclusive right within itself to decide who shall be participants in its communion.

“II. That all Pedobaptists, including Presbyterians, are accustomed to recognize and exercise this right, on the same general principles that Baptists do; and,

“III. That _no church can refuse or neglect to exercise that right without being guilty of open rebellion against the positive requirements of the law of Christ_.”

“I don’t know,” replied she, “what you may be able to do about the first and the last of your three propositions; but I am sure you can’t make me believe that Presbyterians and Methodists either believe in or practice close communion like the Baptists. You and my husband have proved so many strange things from the Scriptures since he has been engaged in this investigation, that I won’t deny that you can prove any thing you say you can, which depends upon _them_. But the faith and practice of our church, I am sure, I know as much about as you do. And I know we have never set any such restrictions around our table, as you habitually set around yours. We have always regarded it as the Lord’s table, and we constantly invite to our communion all who profess to love the name of Jesus.”

“You almost tempt me, madam, to prove my second proposition first, and show you at once that you Presbyterians are as close in your communion as we are, and that the only difference between us is that you are more open in your baptism.”

“I wish you would, and I think then I could better attend to your proof on the other points.”

“Very well—since you desire it, we will take this up first, and then return to the other. If I did not misunderstand you, it is your opinion that all who profess to love the Lord Jesus should be invited to his table, and that the practice of your people is in accordance with this rule.”

“Certainly; it is the Lord’s table and not ours. And we do not undertake to decide on the fitness of those who approach it. Let every one judge for himself. ‘To his own master he standeth or falleth;’ whoever thinks he has the love of Jesus in his heart, let him come.”

“Then of course you invite the Roman Catholic, whom you regard as a follower and subject of anti-Christ, the man of sin—the great enemy and persecutor of the church, of whom it was foretold that ‘he should wear out the saints of the Most High.’ He will assure you that although he loves, and reverences, and worships the Blessed Virgin Mother of God, he also loves her Son and the holy child Jesus. And he will assure you, moreover, that his conscience absolutely demands of him to be the very creature of the Pope, which he is known to be. If he should renounce his faith and practice, he feels that he would be guilty of a mortal sin. Of course, Doctor, you would not exclude him ‘for not doing what he would regard as sin.’

“Then there is the Unitarian. He claims that he loves Christ and delights in his service, although he denies his divinity, and regards him only as a creature. He is sincere and honest in his faith; of course you make him welcome. He says he could not worship Christ without being guilty of idolatry; and no idolater hath any part in the kingdom of heaven. You surely will not reject him for not doing what he _honestly_ believes would place his soul in danger of destruction.

“And near him stands a Universalist. You invite him, of course, for he says he loves Christ better than any of us, and has more reason to love him. We can only love him as the Saviour of those who believe and repent, but _he_ can love him as the Saviour of all the human race; and he will assure you that he would regard it as dishonorable to God to condemn a soul to endless punishment for the few sins he might be able to commit in this life, that he would feel himself fearfully guilty should he venture in his heart to believe that he will do it. And I am sure, Doctor, you could not, according to the rule you laid down awhile ago, exclude him for not believing what, in his opinion, he could not believe without sin.

“There are also many people in the world who come to your meetings, who have never connected themselves with any religious society, who, nevertheless, make great professions at times of their love to Jesus. They thank their God that they are so much better than many members of your church. Not only will they assure you that they love God better than you or I, but can boast they have always loved him, and never have done much, if any thing, for which they think he can complain of them. Upon what ground can you exclude these: since, according to your rule, it is the _Lord’s_ table, and every one is entitled to judge for himself of his fitness to approach it? How dare you say that each and all of these shall not come and fill your table every time the cloth is spread, mixing with yourselves as every way your equals, and showing to the world that they are in all respects equally entitled to this great and distinctive privilege of the church of Jesus Christ?”

“Oh, no, Mr. Courtney, I did not mean that. I don’t want to commune with Roman Catholics, or Unitarians, or Universalists, or non-professors; and we Presbyterians never have been accustomed to invite to our table any such people. All I meant to say was, that we invite _all those whom we have reason to regard as converted men or women, and who have made an open profession of their faith in Christ._”

“Ah, madam, that is quite a different thing from inviting _all who profess_ to love the Lord of the table. It seems then, after all, that _you_, not _they_, are to be the judge of their fitness. But will Dr. McNought agree to this new rule? He says, if I did not misunderstand him, ‘No church has any right or ought to have any inclination to exclude any one from the table of the Lord who _professes_ to love the Lord Jesus, and to desire to obey all his commandments, and who is _sincere_ and honest in his conviction that his faith and practice is correct, _however widely it may differ from that of the church_ whose communion he seeks.’”

“Perhaps I expressed myself a little too loosely,” replied the Doctor. “I did not intend to say that the church is to have _no discretion_ in the matter; but only that she has no right to exclude any whom she recognizes _as genuine and evangelical Christians_. Now, you Baptists do not pretend to doubt (at least you often say so) that Presbyterians and Methodists, and members of other evangelical churches, are just as good Christians as you are yourselves, and every way as worthy and well qualified for the table of the Lord as you are, saving only that we have not been under the water; and as we are prevented from going under the water by our conscientious regard to what we understand to be the commandments of Christ, you have no right and ought to have no disposition to exclude us on that account.”

“Never mind the Baptists just now, Doctor. We will come to them presently. We are now investigating the practice of Presbyterians, and the principles on which it rests, and we have progressed thus far. _You do not_, it seems, leave it for every one to determine for _himself_ in regard to his fitness to commune. You _do not_ invite all who may _think themselves_ worthy and well qualified, but those only whom _you_ have reason to think are converted or regenerated men—and the testimony on which you regard them as such is the fact that they are members in good standing in any of these churches which require evidence of conversion as a prerequisite to membership.”

“Precisely so, sir,” replied the Doctor. “I could not have described our practice more perfectly myself.”

“But there is another thing which you Presbyterians require besides evidence of conversion, and which you will no more dispense with than you will with that.”

“And what is that, pray?” asked Mrs. Jones. “You seem to know more about us than we do ourselves.”

“You shall yourself answer your own question, madam. When one not previously a member of any religious denomination is converted from his sins, repents and believes, and gives good evidence that he has become a new creature in Christ Jesus, do you at once, without any further preliminaries, invite him to your communion table?”

“Certainly we do, as soon as he has made a public profession and united with the church. We could not, of course, invite one who was not a _member_ of any church.”

“Very good; but in what manner does he become a member? Is he not received in the ordinance of baptism?”

“Of course—if he has not been baptized in infancy he must be baptized. Baptism is the door of entrance into the church, and no one can be a member who has not been baptized.”

“Perhaps, Doctor, you may be more familiar with the practice of your denomination than Mrs. Jones. Do you agree with her that no one is recognized as a full member till he has been baptized; or do you invite him at once to your table as soon as you are satisfied that he is a converted man?”

“Our rules in regard to this matter,” replied the Doctor, “are clearly laid down on pages 504 and 505 of the Confession of Faith, ‘ON THE ADMISSION OF PERSONS TO SEALING ORDINANCES’:

“‘Children born within the pale of the visible church, and dedicated to God in baptism, are under the inspection and government of the church, and are to be taught to read and repeat the Catechism, the Apostles’ Creed, and the Lord’s Prayer. They are to be taught to pray, to abhor sin, to fear God, and to obey the Lord Jesus Christ; and when they come to years of discretion, if they be free from scandal, appear sober and steady, and to have sufficient knowledge to discern the Lord’s body, they ought to be informed that it is their duty and their privilege to come to the Lord’s Supper.’ ‘When unbaptized persons apply for admission into the church, they shall, in ordinary cases, after giving satisfaction with respect to their knowledge and piety, make a public profession of their faith in the presence of the congregation; and thereupon be baptized.’”

“And on page 456,” replied Mr. Courtney, “you will find this rule—‘All baptized persons are members of the church, are under its care, and subject to its government and discipline; and when they have arrived at years of discretion, _they are bound to perform all the duties of church members_.’

“It would seem, therefore, that although you are, according to your ‘Confession of Faith,’ at liberty to dispense with any public profession of faith in the case of those baptized in infancy, you are not to dispense with baptism. All the baptized, whether converted or unconverted, are, when they come to years of discretion, ‘bound to perform all the duties of church members.’ And if the celebration of the Holy Supper is one of the duties of church members, they are bound to commune; but no one whom _you_ regard as _unbaptized_, however pious he may be, can be permitted to approach your table, any more than any one whom _we_ regard as unbaptized can come to ours. What then is the difference between your practice and ours? In what respect is your communion more open than ours? Simply and only in this: That you, according to page 456 of your Confession of Faith, admit the unreligious and unconverted, who have never even professed to be the subjects of regenerating grace, provided they were baptized in their infancy—while we admit none who have not made for themselves a credible profession of their repentance and faith. I will, however, do you the justice to say, that many of your churches in this country so far repudiate your own rules, as not to invite or require the baptized children to come to the table of the Lord till they have given evidence of conversion; and these bodies and ourselves, therefore, stand on precisely the same ground—that is, we each require evidence of both conversion and baptism, before we admit or invite any to our communion.”

“But yet,” said Mrs. Ernest, “we can’t stand upon the same ground, for _we_ always invite you, and you never invite us.”

“The reason is not, madam, that we do not act upon the same principle, but that we differ in regard to _what baptism is_, and consequently as to who have been baptized. You consider all baptized who have been sprinkled in infancy. We regard those only as baptized who have been immersed on a profession of their faith. But you no more extend your invitation to commune to those whom you consider unbaptized than _we_ do. Your _baptism_ reaches further than ours, but your invitation to commune _never reaches beyond your baptism_. Do you not see, therefore, that all our difference of opinion is simply about baptism, and not about communion? Show us that the sprinkling of infants is Scriptural baptism, and we can, and will at once extend our invitation to the communion so as to embrace you all. But until you can show us that, you surely cannot ask us to invite those whom we regard as unbaptized, while you cannot invite those whom you regard as unbaptized?

“Except in case of the children of your own church members, you require both conversion and baptism as prerequisites to communion. And for the most part, in this country, though not in Europe, you repudiate your Confession so far as to require it even of them. You refuse to commune with Universalists, and Unitarians, and Roman Catholics, because, although you think they have been baptized, you do not believe they have experienced the regeneration of the Gospel. You refuse to commune with a newly converted person, though satisfied that he is really born again, till he has publicly professed his faith, and been _baptized_. It was on this ground that Professor Moses Stuart, one of your ablest writers and most learned men, said that if a pious member of the society of Quakers or Friends should so far forsake his principles, as to desire to commune with him at the table of the Lord, he must refuse unless he would be first baptized.

“Precisely so it is with us. We also require evidence, both of conversion and of baptism. We ask for neither more nor less than you do. Are you not satisfied? or shall we spend further time upon this point?”

“I did not,” replied the Doctor, “need to be told that Presbyterians require baptism as a prerequisite to communion. No one has ever doubted it, so far as I have been informed. I am sure no one ever had any reason to doubt it.”

“On what ground, then, do you complain of us so bitterly, since we require nothing more than you do?”

“We do not complain of you for requiring _baptism_ as a necessary and invariable prerequisite to communion, but for requiring _immersion_, and thus setting up your judgment against that of the whole Christian world. You will not only have baptism, but you must have _your own baptism_—whereas, we receive that of all other denominations, including yours. How then can you say that we stand on the same ground?”

“I do _not_ say that we stand on the same ground as regards _baptism_. Here I know we differ as far as a few drops sprinkled upon the forehead of an unconscious babe, differs from the plunging of a believing Christian man or woman into a liquid grave. But in regard to communion, we agree, at least, so far as this subject under discussion is concerned. That is, we both require baptism as preparatory to a Scriptural approach to the Lord’s Table. This much you freely admit. You admit also, that no Presbyterian Church is accustomed to invite or permit the approach of those to your communion whom _you_ regard as _unbaptized_. You will admit, moreover, that you have somewhere, in what you call ‘The Presbyterian Church,’ the power to exclude from your communion such as you may deem unworthy. I need not, therefore, dwell any longer on this point. You cannot deny that I have fully established my second proposition, which was, as you will remember—_That Pedobaptist churches, even Presbyterians, are accustomed, as well as Baptists, to recognize and exercise the right to determine for themselves whom it is proper and expedient to admit to their communion._ And I have proved, also, that _you as well as we refuse to admit any one who has not, in your opinion, been baptized_.

“So far we are perfectly agreed; but because you consider many persons as baptized whom we regard as unbaptized, you can invite many whom we must refuse. Here, then, is the gist of the whole dispute. Now, let me ask you one question. Does not the Presbyterian Church claim and exercise the right to decide _for herself_ what baptism is, according to her understanding of the Scriptures?”

“Certainly she does,” replied the Doctor, “and you may find her decision, with the proof-texts on which it rests, recorded on page 146 of the Confession of Faith: ‘Dipping of the person into the water is not necessary; but baptism is rightly administered by pouring or sprinkling.’”

“Why then should you or any one complain if a _Baptist_ Church should feel that she had equally the right to decide for herself according to her understanding of the Scriptures, and should give her opinion and the proof-texts on which it rests? And what if she should come to the conclusion, that ‘dipping the person in the water is necessary,’ and that baptism cannot be administered at all ‘by pouring,’ or ‘by sprinkling?’ What then? Must she act as though she did not believe it? Must she submit her judgment to yours, and receive as baptism, on your recommendation, what she solemnly believes and declares is no baptism? Yet this is what you so modestly require her to do, when you deny to her the right to exclude from her communion the sprinkled and the poured-on members of Pedobaptist societies. If sprinkling and pouring are not baptism, then they have not been baptized; and if they have not been baptized, then they are not Scripturally prepared for communion.”

“But how is it made so certain,” asked Mrs. Ernest, “that no one can be permitted to commune who has not been baptized? I know it is the common practice of the churches of all denominations, but I don’t remember any express declaration of _Scripture_ on which it rests.”

“It is not necessary, madam, to have any express precept, when we have a plain and unmistakable example. But in regard to this point, we have what is equivalent to both.

“We have the often repeated command—Repent and be baptized, believe and be baptized—showing that baptism was _at once_ to follow penitence and faith, without any intervening act. Then we have the unvarying example, many thousand times repeated, showing that this command was thus understood and thus literally obeyed. They believed and were baptized. Baptism instantly followed the profession of their faith, leaving no time for the observance of any other rite between; and then we read, Acts ii. 46, that after their baptism they continued ‘in breaking of bread.’

“Moreover, the sacrament of the Supper is a _church ordinance_. It was ordained to be observed by _the church_, assembled together in a church capacity. And of course no one could participate in it but _church members_. And no one has ever been regarded as a church member till he had been baptized. This was the door of entrance, the initiatory rite by which one was received among and united to the people of God, and so became entitled to the privileges of the visible kingdom of Christ. Hence the Apostle, in writing to the ancient churches, frequently alluded to their baptism; always addressing them as baptized persons, who had put on Christ in baptism; who had been buried with him by baptism; who had been planted together with him by baptism; who had been in a certain sense regenerated by baptism; and who were in some sort saved by baptism. This is so evident that no sect or denomination have ever considered the unbaptized as church members and communicants. The open communion Baptists are, so far as I know, the first and the only Christians who have advocated the giving of the communion to those whom they regarded as unbaptized.

“That godly, learned man and excellent commentator Dr. Doddridge, author of ‘The Rise and Progress of Religion in the Soul,’ and many other excellent works, says: ‘It is certain that Christians in general have always been spoken of as baptized persons by the most ancient Fathers, and it is also certain, so far as our knowledge of primitive Christianity extends, that no unbaptized person received the Lord’s Supper.’—(_Miscellaneous Works_, p. 510.) Dr. Wall, the great champion of Pedobaptism, says expressly: ‘No church ever gave the communion to any persons before they were baptized.’ ‘Among all the absurdities that ever were held, none ever maintained that any persons should partake of the communion before they were baptized.’ Lord Chancellor King, of the Church of England, in his work on the Church, says, page 196: ‘Baptism was always precedent to the Lord’s Supper, and none ever received the Eucharist till he had been baptized.’ And those who might have any doubt about this, he refers to the testimony of Justin Martyr, who describes the practice of the primitive churches in his famous ‘Apology,’ addressed to the Roman Emperor, about the year A. D. 138 or 139. You will find a translation of so much of this memorable document as refers to this subject, in one of your own historians, Rev. Lyman Coleman’s Apostolical and Primitive Church, page 340. ‘After baptizing the believer and making him one with us, we conduct him to the brethren, as they are called, where they are assembled fervently to offer up their common supplication for themselves, for him who has been illuminated, and for all men everywhere, that we may live worthy of the truth which we have learned, and be found to have kept the commandments, so that we may be saved with an everlasting salvation. After prayer, we salute one another with a kiss. After this, bread and a cup of wine and water are brought to the president, which he takes, and offers up praise, etc.’”

“Oh, that is enough, Mr. Courtney. I did not want to know what Justin Martyr, or Lord King, or Dr. Wall, or any body else said about it, but only what was in the Scriptures. If I understand aright, you Baptists claim that your faith and practice rests exclusively on them.”

“That is very true, Mrs. Ernest; but I thought it might be satisfactory to you to know that the same Scriptures which have led us to require baptism as an essential prerequisite to communion, have been equally able to convince all our most learned and zealous opponents, so that in whatever else we may be found to differ, we agree in this. A sect of the Baptists themselves are; I believe, the first and only people who have ever attempted to show from the Scriptures that the communion of the church may be shared with the unbaptized; and they were led to this evidently from their desire to be free from the reproach of close communion. They could not deny that immersion was the only baptism, and therefore they could not but regard their sprinkled brethren as unbaptized, and they could only commune with them by denying that baptism was an essential prerequisite to the Eucharist. But not even Robert Hall, who was the leader, or at least, the ablest champion of his sect, with all his vast learning and surpassing eloquence, could persuade the Pedobaptists that _they_ ought to dispense with baptism in _their_ communicants, though many of them and some Baptists profess to have been convinced that _Baptists_ ought to dispense with it in regard to those who wish to approach their table. But the great body of the Baptist Churches still agree with their Pedobaptist brethren in requiring baptism before communion, and we must continue to do so till some one can find in the Scriptures some precept or example for reversing the order so plainly established by Christ and the Apostles, which places repentance and faith first, then baptism, and then the breaking of bread and the other ordinances of the church of God.

“It is as evident as any thing can be, that if any Jew or Gentile had professed his faith in Christ in the Apostles’ days, and yet had neglected or refused to put on Christ in his holy ordinance of baptism, he would never have been invited to the privileges of a church member.”

“Of course he would not have been,” replied the Doctor, “for there was then no room at all for doubt about the nature or the subjects of baptism. The Apostles had the act visibly set before their eyes by Christ himself. And the people all knew what was intended when they were commanded to be baptized. If any one refused or neglected to obey, it was _prima facie_ evidence that he was no Christian, and consequently an unfit subject for communion. It showed that he either did not believe or was disobedient at heart. The early churches, therefore, were bound to reject all who would not be baptized. But now the case is very different. The mode of baptism has now, in many minds, become a matter of great uncertainty. Some think it is one thing and some another; and some think it any one of three things. Now, since good Christians may thus, while they seek and intend to do right, yet fall into the wrong, how can any church take it upon herself to decide that one of these modes is right and all others are wrong, and so exclude all who do not conform to her standard? for now a failure to conform is not, as in the Apostles’ days, an evidence of an unbelieving or a rebellious spirit, but only of a mistaken apprehension of duty, into which the most sincere and pious Christian is liable to fall.”

“I acknowledge, Doctor, that this argument has a great deal of plausibility about it. It is the best that can be offered in favor of open communion, and has succeeded in imposing upon the minds of some eminent Baptists. But now, if you will give me your candid attention for a few minutes, I will show you _that it is utterly destitute of any Scriptural foundation or logical force_.”

“You speak very confidently, sir, and I will gladly give you the attention you require; but if you can do what you say, I will concede that you are a master in logic—for I conceive it perfectly unanswerable.”

“I know, Doctor, that it is the best and strongest argument which can be made for open communion; and yet I am sure I can satisfy you that it ought not to have the _very slightest weight_ in the decision of this controversy—because it has not even the shadow of a foundation in the Word of God on which to rest. But before I enter upon it further, I will, with your consent, go back and take up the first general proposition which I purposed to establish when we entered upon this discussion, and that was, as you will recollect, _That every church of Christ has the exclusive right within herself to decide who shall be partakers of her communion_. We have seen already in what manner your church and others are accustomed to exercise this right. It is simply the right to determine who shall be entitled to the privileges of membership—a right which must of necessity belong to every such organization in order to preserve its purity or perpetuity.”

“I do not,” said the Doctor, “feel disposed to dispute with you about this. If a Baptist church is a church of Christ, I am willing to grant that within certain limits it is to judge of the qualifications of its members and communicants.”

“What are the ‘limits,’ Doctor, to which you refer?”

“The requirements of the Scriptures. She is to require only such qualifications as the Scriptures demand.”

“But who is to judge of what the Scriptures demand, Doctor, the church or the applicants for her communion?”

“She must, of course, judge for herself. The Scripture is given for her guidance. She must examine for herself, and be governed by her understanding of its instructions. Those who are not of her membership can have no right to dictate to her in the matter of their own reception—that is self-evident.”

“But now, Doctor, what if she should, upon a careful examination of the Scriptures come to the conclusion, as your church has done, that no one is permitted to commune that has not been baptized?”

“Then as a matter of course she will do as we do—admit none who have not been baptized.”

“But suppose she should come to the additional conclusion that sprinkling and pouring are not baptism, and that, contrary to the decision of your church, _dipping of the person in the water is necessary_ to constitute a Scriptural baptism—what then?”

“Why, then I suppose she must admit none who have not been thus ‘dipped,’ for she cannot recognize any others as baptized.”

“Of course she must. That is self-evident. And now, Doctor, I trust you see the fallacy of your boasted argument for open communion; for if every church is to decide _for herself_ who shall commune, subject only to the laws of Christ, and if _she_ is to be the interpreter and judge of these laws, and should be led to determine that these laws demand that every communicant _shall have been immersed_, what could she do for those who had been only sprinkled or poured upon? Must she not reject them, however good and pious they might be? They may be sincere and honest—they may be intelligent and learned; but _they_ are not to decide this question _for_ the church. Those without cannot dictate the terms of communion to those who are within. The church must for herself examine. For herself she must decide, and upon _her own_ decision she must act. What if the nature of baptism _be_ the subject of doubt to many good and holy men—she as a church has nothing to do with their doubts, unless they are her own members. What if good and pious men, seeking to go right, _do_ sometimes go wrong, she as a church is not to forsake what _she_ thinks right, and go wrong too, merely to accommodate them. On the contrary, she is to stand firmly, like a great rock in the wilderness, a fixed and settled way-mark, which men may see afar off in their wanderings, and by it be guided back into the old paths. If others, like the mariner at sea without his chart and compass, wander to and fro, being wafted about with every wind of doctrine—she is to stand like the light-house, against whose base the winds and waves beat alike in vain, standing ever erect, and sending far across the ocean of doubts and uncertainties the calm and changeless light by which they may direct their course into the destined haven.

“Now look at your argument again. In the days of the Apostles, every one knew certainly what baptism was, and every church was bound to exclude all who had not been baptized. But now, many good and pious people have become doubtful what baptism is. Some think it one thing, and some another; and _therefore_ no church of Jesus Christ ought to have any opinion about it; and every one ought to be received who thinks _himself_ baptized. The church has no right to decide even as to what constitutes the very act by which men are admitted to her membership, or as to who shall be permitted to enjoy the peculiar and distinctive privileges of members. This must all be left to the good and pious, _without her ranks_, to determine for her. If _they_ have doubts, she must give up her right to determine for herself, and humbly receive those who judge themselves to be worthy and well qualified, although she may have no doubts at all. Do you not see, that if the principle on which your argument rests be once admitted, it will destroy not only the independence, but the very organization of the churches? The principle is this—A Baptist Church has decided that certain prerequisites are needful to her membership or communion; but there are certain persons, out of her ranks, who think she ought not to require these preliminaries, and demand the privileges of church members without having complied with them. The church consents to their demand—admits them on _their_ terms—abandons her own judgment, and repudiates her own rules—does she not at once lose her distinctive character, and cease to be a Baptist Church? Is she a church at all, when those without make laws for her—decide questions of faith and practice for her, and determine who shall take the place of members at her table, and by what rules she shall exercise her discipline?—for if they determine that she has no right to exclude a member for want of baptism, they can, of course, with equal reason determine that she has no right to exclude any one for any other cause.

“Look at your argument again. It takes it for granted, that because you and some other good and pious men doubt about the nature of the act of baptism, that therefore NO ONE _can arrive at any certainty_ in regard to it; and therefore no church of Christ has any right to take any decisive action in regard to it. If this be true in respect to baptism, it is, of course, equally so in regard to other things; and the necessary result will be, that no church has a right, in regard to _any_ subject, to hold opinions, and to _act_ upon them, if good and pious people of other denominations chance to differ from them. Your argument, if it is good for any thing at all, destroys all church independence and all church sovereignty, and makes it necessary for every church of Christ to go out and ask those who are not of her membership, and have no special interest in her affairs, what she may believe, and teach, and do; and this in regard to matters which are to her of the most vital importance, involving her very existence, by determining for her who she shall admit to the privileges of membership.”

“Oh, no, Mr. Courtney, I did not intend to intimate that the church had no right to deny _membership_ to those who might sincerely and honestly differ from her on matters about which good men have not been able to agree. But we were speaking of only _occasional communion_.”

“The principle is the same, Doctor, whether the communion be occasional or continual. If he may commune once, why not twice? If twice, why not a dozen times—and, indeed, every time the table is spread? And if he may, of right, continually enjoy this peculiar and distinctive privilege of church membership, why not every other privilege? If we have no right to exclude you from communing with us _occasionally_, we have none to exclude you _perpetually_—and if we have no right to exclude _you_, who are not a member of our church, we could not, of course, exclude one who is a member for a similar cause. Your right to determine for a church the terms of its communion, includes the right to determine for it any other principle of faith or practice. If you may dictate who shall commune _once_, you may with equal propriety dictate who shall commune all the time. And yet, you modestly require us, because forsooth you and some other good and pious men are doubtful about the nature of baptism, to yield _our_ convictions to _your_ doubts, and assure us that _we have no right_ to decide for ourselves upon the nature of the very act of initiation into our membership—forgetting, of course, that your own church has positively decided for herself, page 146 of the Confession, where she declares that ‘dipping of the person in water is _not_ necessary;’ and on page 431 (chap. vii. of Directory), where she absolutely requires the minister to ‘baptize the child with water, by pouring or sprinkling it on the face of the child, without adding any other ceremony.’ Presbyterians can decide for _themselves_ what baptism is; so can Methodists; so can Lutherans; so can Episcopalians; so can Roman Catholics; so can every body else who will decide that it is sprinkling or pouring. But if the Baptists claim the same privilege, they are counted guilty of the most unheard-of presumption, and all the Pedobaptist world desires to know by what authority they venture, like other churches, to think for themselves, investigate for themselves, and come to their own conclusions; or, if they must think, and investigate, and decide, yet you demand to know how they can dare to carry out their convictions in their practice.”

“Oh, no, Mr. Courtney, we do not,” said Mrs. Jones, “object to your _deciding for yourselves_. It is to the nature of your decision that we object. If you had decided, like all the rest of the Christian world, that baptism was sprinkling or pouring, or that it was of little consequence which way it was done, no one could object to your exercise of the abstract right to decide for yourselves. But we _do_ think it is evidence of either bigotry or self-conceit, when you set up your opinions against the whole religious world.”

“Your idea of church independence, then, is simply this: Every Baptist church has a full and perfect right to think and decide for herself on all matters of faith and practice, provided she will always think and decide just as your church does.

“But, Doctor, I have another objection to your argument, which makes me wonder how it could ever for a single moment have imposed upon any thinking Baptist—and that is, that it assumes, and takes for granted as the very basis on which it rests, _that no one now can certainly know what the act of baptism was_. In the days of the Apostles, you say, there could not be any doubt about this, and therefore all who would not be baptized, must of necessity have been excluded; but now it is so very uncertain, that good men, meaning to go right, may yet go wrong, and must not on that account be excluded. Let us look at it again in this light. The Apostles knew what baptism was, for they had _seen_ the Saviour himself baptized. The early churches knew, for they had _seen_ the Apostles baptize according to the pattern which Jesus showed in Jordan. But we who live in these ends of the earth, are entirely dependent for our information on the _written Word of_ _God_. The Holy Spirit of Inspiration attempted to convey to us in writing such an account of the organization of a church, and the ordinances of Christ’s visible kingdom, that we might continue them to the end of time; but he made such bungling work of it, that it is now absolutely impossible to find out what he meant. We can neither know _who_ were the persons to be initiated, nor by what act they are to be brought in.

“It is true, that he commanded people first to _believe_ and then to be baptized. It is true, that he never, in a single instance, commanded any one to be baptized _who had not believed_. And that there is not in the record a _single case_ in which any but a professed believer ever was baptized, nor is there a single allusion, direct or indirect, to the baptism of an unconscious babe. And yet men say, that no one now can certainly determine that he did not command, and does not now require, that little infants who cannot believe or perform any act of intelligent worship, shall be baptized, and thus made members of his churches.

“True, his people are always spoken of as a renewed and regenerated people; as a holy and peculiar people, zealous of good works. The churches of the Scriptures were addressed as active, intelligent, and pious people. And we know, from sad and frequent observation, that the baptism of an infant does not regenerate it or make it any holier than it was before. We know that baptized children do not, on account of their baptism, grow up servers of God and of his laws, yet no one now can tell that Christ did not require these unconverted children of wrath and heirs of hell, to be brought into his church and counted among its members.

“And then as regards the act of initiation, which the Scriptures call baptism, your argument takes for granted that nobody can now tell what it was. True, the very word itself declares that it was immersion, if we should read it as we do in any other book. No scholar ever dreamed of its meaning to sprinkle or to pour, in any book except the Bible, nor in any part of the Bible but the New Testament, nor in any place in the New Testament where it does not refer to the ordinance. Everywhere else its signification is sufficiently plain. When Josephus, writing in the same language, and about the same time with the Evangelists, speaks of a youth being baptized in a lake till he was drowned, no scholar ever doubted that the lad was _dipped_. When he speaks of a ship being baptized in the sea, no one ever ventured to doubt that he meant to say it was _sunk_. No one ever doubted what Hippocrates means when he speaks of the surgeon baptizing his probe into a wound. No one doubts what Homer means when he speaks of the blacksmith baptizing a huge pole axe in water to harden the steel. Those who are engaged in teaching our young men a knowledge of the Greek language, never have any difficulty in deciding about the meaning of this word in any of the poets, or philosophers, or historians of Greece. The Lexicons of the language all agree in giving ‘_to dip_,’ ‘_to plunge_,’ as at least its primary and most common signification; and no one of them gives to sprinkle or to pour—and yet you say, no one can tell for certain that this word means _to dip_, and not to sprinkle or to pour.

“It is true, according to the testimony of Dr. Barnes, that this word is used in the New Testament in the place of the Hebrew word ‘_tabal_.’ And Professor Stuart, one of your own ablest scholars, expressly says, that this word _tabal_ always means ‘_to dip_.’ It is true that in the fifteen places where Dr. Barnes says it occurs in the Old Testament, it is translated ‘_dip_’ or ‘_plunge_,’ in every place but one, and there it is ‘_dyed_,’ which supposed a previous act of dipping, yet no one can know that it does not mean to sprinkle or to pour.

“It is true, that your most eminent Biblical scholars, as Stuart, Kitto, Chalmers, and McKnight, agree that it meant immerse, and state expressly that immersion was the act which was performed in the first churches; and yet you say, no one can certainly know what it was which Christ commanded, and the church must now require.

“It is true, the Holy Spirit, as if to obviate the very possibility of any misunderstanding, makes frequent and varied _allusions_ to it in the Word, speaking of it as a burial, a bath, and the like. True, he has gone into particulars, so far as to explain that it was done in the ‘rivers,’ and places where there was ‘much water:’ and that they went down into the water to do it, and came up out of the water after it was done; and yet we can’t know any thing about what it was.

“True, the history of the early churches, written by the sprinklers themselves, as the Magdeburg Centuriators, Mosheim and Neander, clearly shows that, in the language of the _London Quarterly_, devoted to the interests of the Church of England, ‘There can be no question that the original form of baptism—the very meaning of the word—was complete immersion, and that for at least four centuries any other form was either unknown or regarded as an exceptional, almost a monstrous case.’

“True, we can show from ancient rituals and church canons, that for more than thirteen hundred years it was the only act recognized as baptism, except in cases of alarming sickness.

“True, we have the most unexceptionable records, made by the sprinklers themselves, showing the very time and manner of the change from immersion to sprinkling, and the very decree of the Pope, on whose authority it was done; and yet you take for granted that no Baptist Church now can tell for certain which it was that Christ commanded. And on this ground you demand as a right that she shall give to those who have submitted to the Pope’s ordinance of sprinkling, under the false impression that it was baptism, the same church privileges that she offers to those who have entered into Christ’s visible kingdom through the door which he appointed.

“If _you_ have any doubts about the nature of baptism or the subjects of baptism, you may plead them for what they are worth before his bar to whom we all must give account; but you must not expect Baptist Churches to participate in them, or to act as though it were to them a matter about which there was even the slightest uncertainty. If there are any two things which they are satisfied are clearly and definitely set forth in the Word of God, they are, that believers are the only persons commanded to be baptized, and that those commanded to be baptized are commanded to be immersed. They have therefore not even the shadow of a doubt that you are unbaptized, and if baptism is a Scriptural prerequisite, as you yourselves believe and teach, then you are not prepared and cannot claim communion at their hands, unless you undertake to decide for them whom they shall consider as baptized.”

“Oh, we are willing to acknowledge,” replied Mrs. Jones, “that we cannot demand it as a matter of _right_. But the _courtesy_, Mr. Courtney. What we may not demand as a right, we surely may claim on the ground of Christian courtesy and kindness—I had almost said upon the ground of common politeness. And now I ask you seriously to say if you do not think that you Baptists are selfish and discourteous, to say the least, in your refusal to invite any but immersed believers to sit down with you? You admit that others are just as good Christians as yourselves, do you not?”

“Certainly; we do not refuse because you are not pious, but because _you have not been baptized_. And you as well as we believe that the Master does not permit _all Christians_, but only all Christians who are members of a visible church, and who have been baptized. You never invite a person to your communion merely because you consider him a converted man and a good Christian. You wait till he has joined the church, and been baptized.”

“But we think,” said Mrs. Jones, “that we have been baptized. You will grant that we are as sincere and honest in our opinions as you are in yours. The great majority of the Christian world think _our_ opinion better founded than yours: would it not, therefore, be proper and becoming in you to show so much respect to the decision of more than half of Christendom, and so much Christian liberality to those who conscientiously differ from you, as to extend your invitation to them, not of right, but purely out of courtesy and politeness?”

“That can never be properly called Christian courtesy, madam, which asks for the sacrifice of Christian principle—and I am quite as willing to meet the demands of open communion on this ground as on the other. But before we enter into the argument, I would like to go back and call up the third proposition, which I stated at the beginning of this discussion, and that is—_That no church can either neglect or refuse to exercise the right which has been given her by her Head, to preserve the purity of her communion, without being guilty of open rebellion against the positive requirements of the law of Christ._

“We have already seen that every church possesses this right, and it is plain that the _duty_ to exercise it follows from its possession. _Somebody_ must decide who shall be communicants; if not, there is no bar between the church and the world. If every one who chooses may not come, who shall decide who may? We answer, the church herself.”

“By what rule?”

“By the law of Christ, as laid down in his word.”

“May she not neglect or refuse to decide for herself, and leave it to those without to come or not to come, as _they_ may think best?”.

“No; for God has constituted _her_ the guardian of his ordinances, which he has placed within her gates.”

“But may she not reverse his order, and give communion first, and then baptism?”

“No; she must, of course, be governed by _his law_.”

“May she not dispense with baptism altogether?”

“Certainly not, if _his law_ requires it.”

“May she not treat all those as baptized who _think themselves_ baptized?”

“No; she is to be governed by _his Word as she understands it_, and not as it may be understood by _those without her ranks_. She is to examine and decide for herself. She is to recognize and treat as baptized those only whom she believes to have actually been baptized according to the Scripture model. She is not the lawgiver, but simply the executor of the laws of Christ. She is not at liberty to set them aside for any whims of her own. Nor is she at liberty to enforce one part and not another. If, therefore, _he requires_ baptism as a prerequisite to communion, she _dare_ not in any case refuse or neglect to do so also. She _must_ see his rules carried out, or she becomes unfaithful to her trust, and a rebel to her Lord.

“If you have any doubt that each church _is_ constituted thus by Christ the guardian of her own purity, and of the sanctity of his ordinances as administered within her doors, I refer you to Romans xiv. 5, and 2 Thess. iii. 6, in which the power of the church to determine whom they will receive, and the duty of the church to withdraw from every one who walked disorderly, is distinctly recognized. But both the right and the imperious obligation for its constant, faithful, and impartial exercise, follows of necessity from the simple fact, that if the church does not herself exclude the unprepared and the unworthy, there is no one to do it; and it cannot be done at all.

“I am now ready to answer your question about the Christian courtesy of refusing to invite the unbaptized to our communion. Permit me to put it in proper form for you, and let us see how it will sound. We will suppose it to be communion day at the Baptist church, and that your church in a body comes to our door, and asks admission to our table—not as a matter of right, but on the ground of Christian courtesy. You say to us, very affectionately and kindly—Dear brethren in Christ, we are fully persuaded that no unbaptized person, according to the laws of our Redeemer, should ever be permitted to approach his table. _We_ never permit any to come to it in _our_ church whom _we_ do not believe to have been baptized. We could not do it without sinning against God. We know very well, brethren, that _you act upon the same rule_. You agree with us that it would be very wrong and sinful to permit any to approach _your_ table whom you do not think have been baptized. We know, also, that you believe that we have _not_ been baptized, and consequently that you _cannot permit us to approach without doing what you would regard as an act of open and deliberate rebellion against the laws of Christ_. But we regard you all as Christian gentlemen and ladies, and quite familiar with the laws of _politeness_ and Christian _courtesy_, and it must be very evident to you that these laws require you to invite us to your communion. You surely will not be so _impolite_ as to refuse us.”

“Oh, Mr. Courtney, that is too bad! Surely you have no right to look upon us in such a light as that!”

“I am well aware, madam, that your people have not been accustomed to see in this light your claims that we should invite you to our communion. You are so accustomed to think of _yourselves as baptized_, that you cannot fully realize the fact that others should think differently. But thus the case must always appear to the mind of any well informed Baptist. Nor is this by any means the worst of it.

“It is always and everywhere considered an act of great discourtesy to ask one to do any thing which it is well known he will regard as a moral wrong, though it should be asked of him only as a private individual, and in his personal capacity. But the discourtesy is much greater when you ask him, as a public man, in his official capacity, and in direct and open opposition to his _avowed_ and _publicly acknowledged_ sentiments, to do what not only you know he would consider wrong, but what all the world knows, or might know, he would so regard; what he has again and again _publicly declared_ that he _could not do_ without a grievous disregard of his conscientious convictions of right. To ask, for instance, of a Son of Temperance, whom you _know_ is pledged not to drink intoxicating liquors; whom you _know_ feels that he is under peculiar and solemn obligations not to drink; yet to ask him not merely to disregard the obligation, which _you_ know, and which the world knows, that he recognizes as binding upon his conscience; but to ask him to do it _publicly and officially as a Son of_ _Temperance_, in the Division room, would be something such an act of discourtesy, though much less flagrant than it is to ask a Baptist, as a Baptist, in his public capacity as a church member, to disregard his obligations to his Saviour, by which the purity of the church and the sanctity of the ordinances are to be preserved.”

“Oh, dear, no! Please, Mr. Courtney, don’t think so hardly of us. I am sure none of our ministers or members ever intended any thing of the sort when they invited you to our communion, or complained that you did not invite us to yours. We never thought about its being a matter of _conscience_ with you.”

“And why should you not have thought of it, when we have preached it in the pulpit, and proclaimed it through the press, and repeated it continually in private conversation? No one _need_ be ignorant of the ground on which Baptists stand in regard to this question. Their sentiments have been long and plainly before the world. There is no one who has any occasion to complain of them, who does not know, or might not know, that _they cannot dispense with what they conscientiously regard_ as Christian baptism; and that on _this_ account, and not from any impoliteness or discourtesy, they are debarred from inter-communion with sprinkled Christians.

“But I have not done with this question of courtesy. I want our Pedobaptist friends to see precisely where they stand. After you have asked us to disregard the most sacred obligations, to repudiate our conscientious convictions of duty, and as a church, in our assembled and official capacity, to refuse obedience to what you well know we all regard as the imperative law of Christ, and to perform an act which you well know we earnestly believe he has forbidden; when we respectfully decline to do it, and kindly give you our reasons, you set up a great and senseless cry of bigotry, of selfishness, of ignorance, and (will you pardon me for saying it?) =of christian discourtesy=; as though it were more discourteous for us firmly to resist all your solicitations to disregard our Master’s Word, than it is for you, who profess like us to love him, to ask us to do it, or complain of us for not doing it.”

“But we do not ask you to do what we think wrong.”

“No, you only ask us to do what _you know WE think wrong_, and then abuse us because we dare not do it. But let it pass. I should think, Doctor, you would find some serious, if not insuperable difficulties in your plan of inter-communion with other denominations, over whose discipline you have no control.”

“How so?”

“Let me explain. The peculiar and distinctive privilege of a church member in good standing in your church, is the liberty of approach to the Lord’s table. When you exclude the unworthy, they can no longer be permitted to sit down with you at this sacred feast. Now suppose you exclude a member to-day for heresy in doctrine, or irregularity in practice, and he goes to-morrow and unites with some other denomination, can he not, according to your principles, come right back, and claim a seat at your table as the member of another denomination, although you have just driven him away as a member of your own?”

“That might possibly happen; but I do not think we have ever been much troubled with cases of that sort.”

“That is because your open communion is held in theory, but seldom reduced to practice. If there were, in fact, that inter-communion between you and Baptists, which many of you profess so much to desire, I can conceive that it might happen very often, to the utter destruction of any effective discipline in both bodies. Let us see. You require of all your communicants who have children, that they bring them to the church for baptism, do you not?”

“Certainly; it is the solemn duty of every Christian parent to dedicate his offspring to God in this holy ordinance at his earliest convenience.”

“Very good. Now suppose some one of them should take a fancy to ask you for the _text_ on which this requirement is based. You might, as you very well know, search all the New Testament, from Matthew to Revelation, and you could not produce a solitary precept or example. You would try to satisfy him with a wordy jargon about the covenant of circumcision, etc. But he might reply, Jewish children were _circumcised_ at eight days old, because God commanded it to be done. If Christian children are to be _baptized_, you can show where he commanded that.”

“You will say—No, but a command was not necessary; they were to be baptized as a matter of course.

“Very well, then. Of course it _was done_, and you can show me at least _one case_ among the thousands of ‘both men and women,’ in which there was one little child. But you can’t find it. And he begins to doubt the propriety of performing as an ordinance of Christ, what Christ did not command. He cannot be persuaded to bring up the little ones into the church. You exhort him and reason with him in vain; and you are obliged at last to exclude him. I have read of such a case. You exclude him, and he comes to us, and we receive him. Now he holds the same opinions, and is guilty of the same practices. But though you could not commune with him as a member of _your own church_, because he was guilty of the _heinous sin_ of denying infant baptism, you will _welcome_ him back the very next Sabbath as a Baptist. You urge him to sit down to the same table from which you have just now formally expelled him. And I suppose, if he should decline to accept, you would henceforth abuse him as narrow-minded, selfish, bigoted, and intolerant Baptist, who thought himself too good to commune with other Christians.

“The same thing might happen to us, and this furnishes an additional reason _why we cannot_ commune with other denominations. I have said we could not, because you were in our view _unbaptized_; and that is of itself an unanswerable and all-sufficient reason, if there were no other. But there is another growing out of this matter of church discipline. Let us suppose a case for illustration. A minister in our church has imbibed the idea that the sprinkling ceremony, which you borrowed from the Roman Catholics, is valid baptism, and insists upon introducing it into our churches. We would regard it as a great wrong. We would, for the peace and purity of our communion, at once expel him, and deny him the privileges of the church. He goes to you, and you receive him gladly, and the very next day he comes back and claims, as a member of your church, privileges which we had just now formally denied him as a member of _our own_. Do you not see that this rule, carried out in actual practice, must necessarily destroy the force of all attempts at church discipline?”

“But how do Baptists now avoid that difficulty among themselves?”

“Very easily and simply. The right to our communion never extends beyond the reach of our discipline.”

“Then how can members of one Baptist Church claim a seat at the table of another; for, if I understand your church polity, every one of your churches is an independent body.”

“They _cannot_ claim it as a _right_, and our invitation to commune is extended by courtesy only to those whose faith and practice is so like our own, that no person could be a member in good standing with them who would not stand equally well with us.

“The rule adopted by Mr. Wesley (Discipline, see. 5th), and which is founded alike in Scriptural principles and common sense, is the same in substance as that which regulates our practice. That is, ‘no person shall be admitted to the Lord’s Supper among us, who is guilty of any practice for which we would exclude a member of our church.’ This rule you see at once compels us to deny all who teach and practice sprinkling for baptism, and all who engage in what we regard as the sinful though solemn mockery of baptizing unconscious infants, or any others who have not made a personal and credible profession of repentance and faith, according to the plain requirements of the Word of God, which _always and everywhere_ puts repentance and faith before baptism, as it puts baptism before communion. We are bound to this course by that solemn and most impressive injunction of the Apostles, 2 Thess. iii. 6—‘Now we command you, brethren, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that you withdraw yourselves from every brother that walketh disorderly, and _not after the tradition which ye received from us_.’”

“Y declare, Mr. Courtney,” said Mrs. Jones, “I had no idea that you Baptists had so good and satisfactory reasons for your singular exclusiveness; and I promise you now that I will never complain of you again. In fact, if I ever become a Baptist, I shall be a close communion Baptist.”

“I do not see,” said Mrs. Ernest, “how any one can take the Scripture for his guide, and be any thing else; and I have been thinking all the time that there must be some good Bible reason for it, or else Theodosia and her uncle would not have agreed to it—but now, when I come to think of it, I have not heard either of them say a word on the subject.”

The reader will recollect, that at the beginning of this conversation Professor Jones had gone out of the room, for some cause at that time unexplained. He returned after a few minutes, but took no part in the conversation, in with indeed he seemed to feel but very little interest. Mrs. Jones had quickly noticed his abstracted manner, so different from his ordinary behaviour; and had several times cast an uneasy glance into his face, hoping to read there the cause. But she could only learn that it was in some way connected with Theodosia, whom he loved with the affection of a father. Each time she looked, his eye was resting with an expression of the deepest pity upon his lovely niece, who took no more part in the conversation than himself. In truth she had spoken very little to any one since the appearance of Mr. Percy at the courthouse on the preceding night. His relation of his experience of grace, and his declaration of his desire to be baptized, had placed him in a new relation to her. She did not know that he had then never seen her letter—and once (but only for a moment) the thought intruded into her heart that all this change had been made for _her_ sake, and not for Christ’s. She repelled it, however, in the instant that it came, and all day long had held herself ready to welcome him back to his place in her heart as her betrothed, and felt that she could love him now with an affection even deeper and more intense, higher and purer and holier than that which with such agony of effort she had been trying to strangle in her heart. She thought he would have come and spoken to her before she left the meeting, but he did not seem to notice her presence there. She was sure he would call in the morning—but dinner was on the table, and he had not come. That letter of hers must have prevented; but surely there was not in it any harsh expression, any single word of unkindness. Did not her heart _ache_ with the very intensity of her love, while she was writing it? And now she tried to recall it, sentence by sentence, and word by word, to see if there was any thing there which she should not have said.

The afternoon wore slowly away. She sat at the window where she could see the door of his office, but it was never opened. She listened to every foot fall on the pavement, but she heard not his familiar step. Once the latch of the front door was moved, and she sprang from her seat, and felt the blood crimson all her face and neck; but she sat down in a moment, for she knew it was her brother Edwin. Mr. Courtney called after supper. Mr. Percy had not come yet; but she hoped to meet him at her uncle’s. He was not there—and her spirit retired within itself; and she sat as mute, and almost as unconscious of what was passing around her, as a marble statue.

When Uncle Jones went out, it was to see Dr. Woodruff, a cousin of Mr. Percy, who was also his most devoted friend and confidant. He was to have officiated as the bridegroom’s friend on the expected wedding-day, and had just returned from Mr. Percy’s mother’s, where he had spent the day with one whose earthly career seemed likely soon to close. He had come in to break the melancholy tidings as best he could to Theodosia.

The facts, as he related them to Professor Jones, were briefly these: The servant who waited on Mr. Percy’s office had gone there in the morning, and had found the young man lying upon his face on the floor, with Theodosia’s letter in his hand. When the servant entered he seemed to be asleep. He aroused him, and raised him up; but his looks were so wild, and his face was so pale and his words (rather muttered than spoken) so strange and unnatural, that he placed him on the bed and ran for his cousin, the doctor.

When Doctor Woodruff came, and read the letter, he understood how it had been. Mr. Percy, from the time he wrote and sent that distressing letter to Theodosia, in the previous week, had been in a state of most intense mental excitement. Much of the time he had been suffering extreme agony of mind. His physical powers had become greatly exhausted, and his nervous system debilitated and excitable. He had gone from the meeting in the courthouse (where he had so unexpectedly had an opportunity to ask for Christian baptism) to his office. There he found Theodosia’s letter. He had never till then conceived that his letter would have occasioned such distress to her, or that it would have led her to such a determination. Yet if he had been entirely self-collected, and his mind had not been already exhausted by long continued over-excitement, the shock which the reading of her reply now gave him, would have been speedily followed by calmer thoughts, and an instant determination to see her at once, confess his fault, ask her forgiveness, and set himself right in her heart. But exhausted in body and excited in mind as he was, the revulsion of feeling was too great to be endured. He read on till he came to where she said, “When you return, I pray you to consider me but as one dead. It will be better for us both.” The paper seemed to grow black before his eyes. The room was suddenly darkened. He felt a strange, dreamy calmness creep over his brain. He sunk down out of his chair in a deep swoon, or fainting fit, upon the floor. He became conscious after a time, but had not strength to rise; and subsided again into a strange, unquiet sleep, mixed with half-waking dreams, in which he saw a beauteous form, more like an angel than a being of the earth, who came and raised him up, and looked into his eyes so sadly, so reproachfully, and yet so tenderly, that he struggled to tell her how his heart bled at the remembrance of the act which caused her so much sorrow—but he could not speak. He strove to raise his hand and make some sign to assure her that he loved her better for her firm adherence to the truth, but the muscles would not obey the will. He could not move—he could not speak—and she was gone. Oh, how deep and how long was the darkness of that night! She was gone! He felt that she was lost to him forever. The very light of his life was darkness now—and yet he waited and watched for her return. Could she leave him thus? Would she not love him still? Hark! he hears her footstep. The door opens. Some one touches him. He starts from his slumber to greet her with some word of love, but he sees only his servant, who is trying to remove him from the floor to the bed. He stares at him with the strange gaze of incipient madness, and bids him leave him to rest in peace. The doctor saw at once that a long and fearful brain fever was the best that he could hope for; and while his strength was yet comparatively undiminished, resolved to remove him to his mother’s house, some two miles in the country. This done, he prepared such remedies as his medical skill suggested, sat down, and watched beside his bed till he was satisfied that there was no immediate danger; and then, at his mother’s request, came in to explain to Theodosia the reason why he had not called on her. He had thought best to explain, as we have seen, to Uncle Jones, and leave him to make it known to his niece.

The Professor had been so much occupied with this matter, that he scarcely heard the discussion which was going on in his presence. He was glad when a pause in the conversation showed that the parties engaged had, for the present, at least, exhausted their ammunition, and were prepared for a temporary truce, if not for a permanent peace. He turned their attention to some other subject, and in a few minutes the Reverend Doctor took his leave.

Uncle Jones walked home with Theodosia. They walked slowly; and when Mrs. Ernest and Mr. Courtney had gotten some way before them, he broke the silence by reminding her that she had not spoken a word all through the evening; “and,” said he, “I will tell you why. You were distressed that Mr. Percy had not called to see you since his return, and wondering what could be the cause. Will it relieve your mind to tell you that he is sick?”

“I will not deny to you, uncle, that such was the subject of my thoughts. I hope he is not seriously unwell.”

“The doctor does not think him in any immediate danger, but fears it will be long before he can resume his business.”

“Why, uncle, what can be the matter? I am sure I never saw him look better than he did last night. Did you not notice the brightness of his eye, and the freshness of his cheek, and how rich and mellow was his voice while he was telling what God so wonderfully had done for his soul?”

“I was myself too much engaged to observe him closely, but I can well imagine that the unnatural flushing of his check, and the unusual brilliancy of his eye, were but the tokens of that intense mental excitement which preceded, if it did not produce, the fever from which he is suffering now.”

They had reached the cottage door. Uncle Jones thought best not to go into any further particulars, and returned to his home.

That night, if one had passed by the window of Theodosia’s room, he might have heard many a sob, mingled with half-uttered prayers. Had she known _all_ the truth, her sobs might have been louder; but her prayers could hardly have been more earnest.

The messenger who went next day to inquire, returned to say that Mr. Percy was no better; and so it was the next day—and the next. Doctor Woodruff had called in a brother practitioner, but did not reveal to him, nor even to Mr. Percy’s mother, the whole secret of his attack. The letter which he found in his hand, he had considerately laid aside, to be returned to him should he recover. Its existence was a professional secret. He attributed his illness to the long and tiresome journey on horseback through the sun, and to such excitement of mind as he had himself publicly described before his strange attack.

On Saturday evening Mrs. Ernest received a line from Mrs. Percy, saying that her son was growing daily worse and worse; and, strange to tell, he had in his delirium conceived a singular fancy that Theodosia had ceased to love him, and had even formally discarded him. This idea, she said, was uppermost in all the wanderings of his mind, and evidently was exerting a great influence upon the progress of his disease; and Doctor Woodruff had suggested that if Theodosia could herself assure him of her continued affection, it might have a soothing, and perhaps a healing influence.

Mrs. Ernest handed the note to her daughter, with the remark, that in consideration of their well-known betrothal, there could be no impropriety in granting Mrs. Percy’s request.

“We will go to him at once, dear mother,” said Theodosia, when she had read the note, with eyes full of tears “Even a brief delay may be of fatal consequence.”

When they reached Mrs. Percy’s house, he had fallen into an unquiet slumber, from which they did not seek to awaken him. They sat down in the room, and conversed in a low tone about the nature of his disease, and other matters which the circumstances suggested. Theodosia took but little part in this conversation, except as a most eager listener. She sat down near the head of the low couch on which he lay, but presently arose, and, under pretence of shading the patient’s eyes, adjusted the candle so that it should not shine upon her own. Oh, who can tell the thoughts that then were thronging in her maiden heart! How changed he was! How pale—how corpse-like was his cheek! How wasted was the thin, emaciated hand, which lay outside the cover! How parched and feverish the lips! How sunken the eyes! How would they look when he should open them? Would he know her? Would he speak to her? What if he _now_ should open his eyes and see me here?—and she almost unconsciously moved her chair back out of his range of vision as she thought of it. His lips moved: she reached the spoon in the tumbler of water upon the little table, and moistened them. He opened his eyes wide; he looked her steadily in the face; he glanced at her white dress; he looked in her face again. She fancied that the expression of wonder on his face gave place to a scarcely perceptible smile. But he did not speak; he did not make any sign of recognition. She sat down again and wept.

“You must need rest, Mrs. Percy. You may go and sleep, and leave the care of him to us to-night,” said Mrs. Ernest. “We will watch him as tenderly as you could do yourself.”

Mrs. Percy laid down, and Theodosia withdrew to some distance from the couch, and sat where she could see every change that passed upon his face. The love which she had for a time endeavored to eradicate from out her mind, had only, like the lofty oak when torn and wrenched by the mighty storm, extended its roots more widely and deeply, and clasped them more firmly round her heart; and now, when the cause which led her to cast it off had been removed, she clung more ardently and devotedly than ever to the hope that he would yet be hers. Again and again during that long night, when she hastened to do some little act of kindness, did he open his eyes and look at her with a kind of wondering tenderness in his gaze; but yet he did not speak, nor was she sure that he recognized her at all.

He slept more quietly that night than he had yet done, and when the doctor came next day, he whispered in his ear that a beautiful vision had come to him in his dreams and looked at him so lovingly, that he was ready to speak, and ask it whence it came, but feared his voice might break the charm, and it would vanish from his sight.

“You must stay with us, my child,” said Mrs. Percy, “till my son gets better. He talked of you continually until you came, but now it seems as though your very presence in the house exerts a sort of magic influence over him, for he is quiet, and does not so much as lisp your name. The doctor says if you could but become his nurse, he may yet recover. Will you not, my daughter?”

“If my mother thinks there would be no impropriety in my doing so.”

“Certainly, Theodosia, I think you ought to return and assist Mrs. Percy in every way you can. But your uncle and I are going to be baptized to-day, and you will not be willing to be absent from the meeting.”

This conversation took place in the hall, from which there was an open door leading to the patient’s room. He heard Theodosia’s voice; he thought he heard her name. He made some sound, which recalled his mother to his side, and looking in her face with a more natural expression than he had since his attack, he said:

“Mother, I thought I saw her spirit here last night, and just now I am sure I heard her voice, and thought that some one called her name. Tell me if she is here.”

“Would you like to see her, my son?”

“Oh, yes; I want to ask her to forgive me before I die.”

“You do not think you are going to die, my child!”

“I have strange feelings, mother. I do not know what death is, or how he comes; but I am sure I have been very near the world of spirits.”

“Do you feel any alarm at the prospect of death?”

“My mind is very weak, mother. I scarcely feel or think at all. I have a blessed Saviour: I remember that; and I will trust him, even though I die. But tell me—did I hear her voice, or was it but a dream?”

“Try to compose yourself, my child. The doctor says that you must sleep awhile this morning. If you wish to see Miss Ernest, I will send for her.”

“Do you think she would come?”

“I know she would. So make yourself easy, and you shall see her when you wake.”

On returning to her visitors, Mrs. Percy related this conversation, and insisted that Theodosia must remain to be there when he awoke; and as the young lady did not object, Mrs. Ernest went home without her. She laid down on her arrival, and took a short nap, and then taking Edwin by the hand, joined Uncle and Aunt Jones on their way to the Baptist meeting.

When the usual invitation was given to those who desired membership with the church to come forward and make their profession, Uncle Jones was surprised and delighted to see both his wife and his sister go up and ask admittance into the church of God. Neither of them had said a word to him upon the subject, for though both had yielded to their convictions of the truth, that immersion is the only baptism, some days before, and both had been convinced that believers are the only Scriptural subjects of baptism, they could neither of them overcome their repulsion to the practice of close communion, or consent to sever their connections with these to whom they had such strong attachments, until the explanations of Mr. Courtney in their last conversation put it beyond the shadow of a doubt that the Lord Jesus not only commanded believers, and them only, to be immersed, but that he had also forbidden all who had not believed and been immersed to approach his table, and required of those who had in this way become, according to his order, the members of his church, that they should carefully guard the purity and the perpetuity of his ordinances, by permitting no one to partake with them in the peculiar privileges of church members who had not, like themselves, been made members according to the same Gospel order. This difficulty removed, they were now ready to be baptized.

We need not detain you any longer, gentle reader, by describing to you the baptism of these three, who, with several others, followed the example of their Saviour, by going down into the water, and were buried with him in the liquid grave. Nor can we now continue the history in which you have come, we trust, to feel so great an interest that you would gladly see the end. We have finished our ten nights’ study of Scripture baptism. We have examined it in regard to its mode, its subjects, and its results. We have endeavored to do it plainly and candidly, but if we know our own hearts, we have tried to do it kindly—and in the spirit of that “charity” which “rejoices in the truth.”

We are grieved to leave our darling Theodosia in such distress. But she must remain a little while in the valley of tears, until, by her own sorrows, she has been taught how to sympathize with the sorrowful. He was the wisest man of earth who said, “By the sadness of the countenance the heart is made better.” She needs the discipline of grief to fit her for the life of eminent usefulness which lies before her—and the history of which will soon be given in another volume.

A DREAM,

Review Of N. L. Rice’s Notice of the Theodosia Ernest First Series.

By the Author of Theodosia.

PREFACE.

THE only attempted review or extended unfavorable notice of the first volume of Theodosia Ernest, appeared in the St. Louis Presbyterian, from the pen of its Editor, N. L. Rice, D.D. That notice is here given, and a review of Mr. R’s singular statements reviewed in a dream—and also the natural effect of such a treatment of the best arguments ever produced by Presbyterians or Pedobaptists—the conversion of Pastor Johnson. We regard this review, in connection with Mr. Rice’s notice, as the most powerful argument in favor of Baptist positions.

J. R. GRAVES.

_Nashville_, 1857.

NOTICE OF THEODOSIA.

By N. L. Rice.

AS IT APPEARED IN THE ST. LOUIS PRESBYTERIAN.

If perseverance and ingenuity were evidences of religious truth, there could no longer be a doubt that immersion is the only valid baptism. Long and earnestly have the advocates of this doctrine labored to sustain its claims. The pulpit, the newspaper, the tract, the book, learned argument, and assertion, and ridicule, have all been laid under requisition. Then the whole Bible must be translated anew to make it sustain the Baptist sense. And now we have before us, by the kindness of a friend, a _Baptist novel_, the title of which is “_Theodosia Ernest, or the Heroine of Faith_.” The author has modestly concealed his name, but the work is published by Graves, Marks & Ruthland, Nashville, Tennessee. The book is really instructive and amusing. We purpose briefly to notice a few of its peculiarities.

It displays throughout a consciousness of the weakness of the doctrine it is intended to advocate. 1st. The title betrays this consciousness—“The Heroine of Faith.” There is in every Christian’s heart a strong sympathy with the struggles and conflicts of a genuine faith, rising above the allurements and persecutions of a wicked world. The author has thought it necessary to take advantage of this noble sympathy. If he had adopted the more truthful title—“_The Heroine of Immersion_”—the book would have fallen still-born from the press. There is little that is either noble or romantic in the zeal of a professing Christian, young or old, for a narrow sectarian dogma. The author judged, merely, that the cause of immersion needs the advantage of a title far nobler than itself.

The same conscious weakness shows itself in the choice of a _heroine_ instead of a _hero_, and of a heroine who is a highly cultivated, sensitive young lady of eighteen. Who can help strongly sympathizing with such a young lady, devotedly pious, evidently conscientious, willing to sacrifice every thing for the truth, conducting an argument against two or three men much older than herself? We forget the cause and sympathize with the girl. We put double weight to her arguments, and feel gratified at the perplexities into which her antagonists are thrown. The author of the novel judged rightly that the cause of immersion and anti-pedobaptism claims all this sympathy and more. If he had been a hero, instead of a youthful heroine, his hearers would have weighed his arguments, instead of being carried away with sympathy.

The cause needed even stronger sympathy; and, therefore, Miss Theodosia Ernest is brought in conflict with the man to whom she was engaged to be married—a cold-hearted, formal Presbyterian lover—whom she loves most devotedly. He opposes her joining “the contemptible sect of Baptists”—(we naturally sympathize with a person opposed). She, poor girl, is thrown into a paroxysm of grief, sighs, weeps, and prays, and resolves to break off the engagement, just for the pure love of immersion! The reader feels his eyes filling with tears of sympathy for the dear distressed creature who had also her mother in opposition, and is almost ready to be immersed himself just to comfort her. Who would have thought that a Baptist knew so well how much it was necessary to excite the sympathies of his readers to prevent them seeing the flimsiness of his arguments?

The necessities of immersion were even greater. Although Miss Theodosia is singularly furnished with Baptist arguments, for one who has just reason to doubt the validity of her baptism, Professor Courtney, an accomplished scholar, is called to aid her. He, having been a Presbyterian, and having examined the whole subject, is perfectly at home in the discussion. He understands Greek, and he can read all the learned authors on the subject. On the other side we have, first, Mr. Percy, the gentleman engaged to Miss Theodosia, who is represented as wholly ignorant of the subject; Rev. Mr. Johnson, the young lady’s pastor, who is made to talk like an ignoramus and a simpleton; and Professor Jones, the heroine’s uncle, who had confessedly never examined the subject, and scarcely had sense enough to keep him out of the fire. With such combatants on each side, immersion may lift its head in bold defiance. We cannot help admiring the author’s clear perception of the necessities of his cause. It was exceedingly proper that he should select, as the advocates of Pedobaptism, such persons as Mr. Percy, who “had never had a serious thought upon the question” (p. 13); Mr. Johnson, who said, “I have never studied these controversies much”; and “Uncle Jones,” who, though Professor of Languages, had considered it the duty of his parents and their pastor to attend to his baptism, and “had never inquired whether they did it illy or well” (p. 121). It is precisely over such persons, as the author rightly judged, that Baptist controvertists gain the victory. And yet we cannot but wonder that he would so publicly disgrace his cause by selecting such ignoramuses as the opponents of the learned Mr. Courtney!

The respective characters being thus selected, the advocates of immersion are, of course, allowed to make bold assertions which are utterly untrue, and to keep out of view the merits of the case, whilst their ignorant and soft-headed opponents gape and wonder. Thus “the heroine of faith” decides, as by intuition, that baptism is an act, and that if immersion is baptism, sprinkling and pouring cannot be. Her intellect is too lofty, and her perception too clear, to hesitate for a moment to decide against forty-nine fiftieths of the wisest and best men that have lived both in ancient and modern times. The author rightly judged that this heroine ought to be very self-conceited. Mr. Percy is made to admit, what every tolerable scholar knows to be untrue, that all the lexicons sustain the immersionists. It suited the purpose of the writer to keep out of view the declaration of the learned Baptist, Carson, that “all the lexicons” were against them. “Professor Jones,” poor simpleton, is made to express the opinion that immersion was first introduced “by the Mad Men of Munster during the Reformation of Luther.” He cannot tell, poor fellow, where he got the idea; but “perhaps he got something of it from reading D’Aubigne’s History of the Reformation—perhaps he received it by hearing something of the kind from the pulpit.” And the accomplished Baptist, Mr. Courtney, has “seen and heard such statements many times from various sources. They are often recorded in Presbyterian and Methodist newspapers” (p. 160). And the learned gentleman gravely goes to work to disprove this statement, which was never made by any tolerably informed Presbyterian, or recorded in any respectable Pedobaptist paper. The book abounds with such vile misrepresentations.

The book is written with ingenuity—it was necessary that it should be. It keeps out of view the facts and arguments on which Pedobaptists rely, or caricatures them to make them appear ridiculous. It puts into their mouths arguments they never use. It manufactures history to suit the occasion. In a novel, all this can be done in such a way that the uninformed reader will not readily detect it. We are gratified at observing how distinctly the writer shows, first and last, that the cause of immersion needs very peculiar advantage in order to sustain its claims.

After all, since he was advocating a fiction, he is probably right in adopting fiction as the means of its defence. The only way to find so ignorant and stupid Presbyterians as Percy, Johnson, and Jones, is to manufacture them for the occasion; and nowhere, but in the imagination of a zealous immersionist, can such Presbyterian young ladies as “Theodosia Ernest, the Heroine of Faith,” he found. The author could not successfully assail real, living Presbyterians; and, therefore, being resolved on battle and a victory, he manufactures a few to suit him, and then chooses their weapons for them, and directs them how to use them, so they will be sure not to hurt them. Brave man! Don Quixote was scarcely his equal.

Verily, the cause of anti-Pedobaptism seems to be “on its last legs.” If it cannot induce the Christian world to receive an immersionist Bible, and if novels will not sustain it, what is it to do?