Immortality

Front matter

Class _ Book.

COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT

IMMORTALITY.

Dedication

^HIS edifice is erecbed as a refuse for brjo^e \^r;o falber ii) bt>e pre^epC© of earbr/s profour;de^b n>y^beries. lbs corr)er=^bor;e is laid ii) bt)e solid rock of facbs. lbs trails are reared Heaverj^ard. lbs ^pire poii)b^ bo God.

Upor> bl>e dedicabioi)=bat>leb I isrould inscribe bt>e r;an)e of or>e ^rrjose life i<? rounded full of s^eeb perfection ; rny rjelprneeb.

Sincerely,

Preface

THIS book is prepared upon a new line of argument, in every respect different from all other works that have dealt with the subject of eternal life. There are many facts in nature that have been overlooked by students, or else have never been marshaled for this purpose.

Without depreciating the value of the many treatises on immortality, it is nevertheless true that there is not one in existence, nor has there ever been one produced, to the knowledge of mankind, that did not arrive at its illuminated conclusions through fields of speculation and insubstantial assumptions.

A great lawyer was engaged by a wealthy clergyman to defend a deacon who had killed a child on slight provocation. The lawyer took the case, with the understanding that the clergyman should produce evidence to prove that the deacon Avas innocent. This was agreed to. On the day before the trial the lawyer informed the preacher that no satisfactory evidence had been forthcoming, and that, unless something was done by daybreak, he would abandon the case. At midnight he was awakened by a frantic ringing of his door-bell. Putting his head out of the upper window, he shouted, "Who's there?' 7 — "The clergyman." — "Well, what have you found?'* — "I have obtained absolute proof that the deacon is innocent." — The lawyer dressed, and admitted the excited though joyous parson. "Now for your evidence." — "'Well, sir, I fell asleep, and an angel came to me, right out of Heaven, and told me the deacon was innocent." — "Will the angel swear to that?'* — "He would if he was here." — "Well, get him here. Go to the clerk of the court and get a subpoena, and have that angel brought into court, and I'll do my best to clear the deacon."

It is safe to say that the minister was fully satisfied of the conclusive nature of the proof; although the secular courts convicted the man. And it is that class of testimony that furnishes to some reasoners convincing proof, likewise, of immortality. The present volume proceeds with evidence that would be admissible in a court of justice under the most stringent rules; and does not depart from its chain of facts even for indulgence in the most innocent speculation.

HOW TO PROCEED.

IT IS the intention of the author of the present volume to satisfy the minds of his readers and students by producing an argument that shall carry its proof as the rails of a track direct the course of the locomotive. In order to he fully understood, the train of facts must he continuous and consecutive. There must he no departure from this rule; no jumping a short space here, or another space there. Each fact follows in logical sequence, building upon its predecessor, and strengthening the advance. To omit any step would be as unwise as to take a link out of the chain that held the anchor of a ship.

In the course of reading that is laid out before you in these chapters, the methods employed in devouring a novel would prove disastrous. If you have a sincere desire to get at the truth, each page should be read understanding^ ; and to prove this, you are requested to adopt the plan that has been so successfully used by the greatest minds of earth; a plan that will do you a wonderful amount of good in all departments of study. It is this. As soon as a page is read, close the book, and repeat aloud each idea that has been stated on that page. The repetition aloud compels you to formulate the idea into words, and thus give it a real existence, no matter how poorly clothed it may be. Then re-examine the page to ascertain how much has escaped your memory. Now pass on to the next page. This process is a slow one, but it alone renders a study pleasurable. It makes the mind strong, quick, deep and clear.

It may be argued that such a method requires time; but, suppose you rush hastily through the book and find that you are not convinced; you will be in the position of a juror who came into a case late, and found the evidence incoherent because he had lost much of it. There is no reason for getting to the end at once. Time is plentiful, and you have much of it at your command. It is hoped that, when you have finished the reading, you will have become master of every chapter and every page.

CHAPTER J.

BURNING AWAY BRIARS.

ARMED with a key of promise, a dreamer climbed a ladder, the end of which extended beyond the clouds and was invisible. He had no difficulty in reaching the vapors, for they hung like a fog close to the earth ; but when he was on the point of mounting their summit, the ladder fell with every ascending step, and he could not rise. Then he decided to come down; but the same difficulty confronted him, the ladder moved in the opposite direction and left him in the clouds. The key bore the inscription: "With This Unlock the Door of Life."

No living human being realizes what it means to be born into this world, what it means to exist from season to season, what it means to die; unless that being has been bathed in the vapors of absolute uncertainty. What sorrow is to the soul, a wholesome, all-pervading doubt is to the mind. In religion it makes faith possible, in science it makes investigation desirable. Perfect knowledge is the destroyer of faith, and the executioner of progress. The individual who says, "I know I shall live agin/' is certain of it in the same sense that the good deacon was sure of his knowledge when he exclaimed, under oath, at a certain coroner's inquest, "I know that this is the body of my brother. Some thing's I am not sure of, but of this I am positive." His brother arrived at the inquest a few minutes later. The deacon was honest. Nor can we attack the sincerity of one who knows there is life after death, when to feel is to know.

Such knowledge usually consists of a vehement shutting up of the mind against the process of thought; and the assumption of a positive belief incapable of change. The brain, at its best, is but a machine; it runs at will when so ordered; but it also possesses the faculty of setting itself in a certain channel, out of which it cannot escape, and from which it could not be deviated by the force of a sledge-hammer operated by an earthquake. It is a mistake to find fault with this faculty. The man who knows that the sun moves because he beholds it, is neither to be blamed nor pitied; lie commits no sin; and the only offence of which he might be guilty in such error would he to quarrel with the friend who explained to him the real fact. Disagreements are natural and legitimate; they cannot he avoided as long as human nature lacks perfection; they should be expected and tolerated; but they ought never to excite impatience or enmity. It seems strange that any sane man could torture his brother for believing that the earth was round. The saddest reflection of all is the real importance of the knowledge in dispute.

Our dreamer in the clouds found himself suspended in mid air, without the power to rise or fall. That he had gone som& distance when he attempted to mount the summit of the vapors, and peer out into the open realms above him, was apparent from the fact that the ladder had maintained its firmness up to that time. That its motion should counteract his progress was deplorable, because he was anxious to ascertain the length of the ladder, to behold it reaching out into the great space above, to know where it ended, and to catch a glimpse of the door he was to open. Now he could neither ascend nor descend. He ran up; the ladder ran down. He ran down; the ladder ran up. He crept slowly; so did the ladder. All at once he thought of taking his life in his hands and jumping; in fact leaping through the clouds into the vast space that now separated him from the earth, and letting his body strike where it would. Nothing could more certainly end all doubt, for death opens all doors.

The knowledge of some men is so strong, so vivid, so impregnable, as this dreamer reasoned, that to delay its realization is the height of folly. Before us is the endless future, aglow with eternal happiness; no toil, no worry, no pain, no suffering; a long aeon of pleasure waiting for every man, woman and child; and the only incident that bars us from this era of joy is a straw, the mere death of the body to release the soul and free it for its flight. Have men's minds grown so numb that they cannot perceive the grievous mistake of living longer on earth? Not long ago a wealthy gentleman, a learned and successful man, full of reason and practicability, became satisfied beyond all doubt that the glories of eternal life were on the other side of the gate of death, and he entered at that gate. He has not been heard from since; but he took the only sensible course that a sensible mind could take, struck down the barrier, and went his way. The thought of this convinced our

BURNING AWAY BRIARS dreamer; he was willing to get out of the clouds of doubt; he closed his eyes to the vapors; he leaped forth from the ladder; it disappeared; he dropped not for a day or an hour; not for a mile or a furlong, but for an inch. The solid earth received him with a shock so light that the only inconvenience he experienced was in gaining an erect position. The clouds were high aloft; the breezes played about his fevered brow; the trees sang the joys of earth; field and meadow revelled in the beauty of flowers and verdure; brooks murmured their notes of delight; all the landscape was full of gladness; and the shadows above rolled away their vapors until the sky was one boundless expanse of blue. It was earth.

He saw the flowers growing and wondered at their loveliness and beauty; he even wondered why they grew and how; who made them and for what purpose. He saw the petals drop and wither, the exquisite richness of shade and color depart, the structure fail, and the marvelous creation pass away. The key of promise was still in his hand, and life was all about him. Perhaps on earth, and not amid the clouds, he might unlock the door. Perhaps fact could render him more assistance than faith; and, instead of climbing a ladder of his fancy, he might walk on solid ground, and reach the goal of his desire. It was worth trying, and he tried it.

Fear is always evidence of weakness. Some there are who would shun a fact as though it were a thing of danger, conspiring with Mother Nature to do injury to their preferred religion. To them it is necessary to say that this volume could have been written seven thousand years ago as well as to-day; long before religion was known or dreamed of; as it takes its testimony from the solid germs of truth lying all about the pathway of life; something that faith ignores. Yet we believe in religion, we believe in faith, in the Bible, and in God, so thoroughly and reverently that we place them at once and for all time above all other considerations. If you have a conscience, it will tell you that no earthly duty can equal the higher demands of a moral life. Let your religion be what it may, if it teaches you to do right for the sake of right, and if you are sincere in your faith, there can be no question as to its importance; and he who Avould place some other form or creed above yours is childishly ignorant, though he may be too simple to be dishonest. But we shall neither oppose him nor prefer you; as these matters do not in any sense enter the province of our work.

It may be hard to understand why a treatise that deals with the question of immortal life should not be founded upon the Bible or upon some religion. The answer is that the Bible and religion relate only to the moral side of eternity, and that immortality was a known fact before either existed. Since the theological schools of all denominations are teaching the ministers of the churches that the account of the creation stated in Genesis is merely a tradition, the inference is drawn that the good book should be consulted for its moral rather than for its geological and historical instruction. Yet we do not believe that any part of the Bible should be discredited or doubted. The millions of men and women who have placed faith in its teachings during all the centuries past, were not to blame for what they did not know and could not know; and why should the few individuals who have acquired so much knowledge, be priviledged to discard the sacred volume because the evidence of its construction is not stamped with red-hot irons upon the mountains of Asia? When some day a link in the chain of American history shall be found missing, this class of learned investigators will satisfy the boys and girls of a future epoch that George Washington was a mythical creation, and the war of independence an epic poem.

The briars of knowledge are not the doubts that beset it, but the certainties that stiffen the mind against an appreciation of facts. Men and women go down into the grave, filled with convictions of supposed truth stronger than Gibraltar; but they waken to a realization of the real purpose of existence. Standing on the outskirts of the Hereafter, many a soul is crying out, "What mistakes you mortals are making!'" — but their voices never reach the realms of earth. The chasm is wide, and the beating waves dash heedlessly along the shores of time.

Chapter II. The Masterpiece

HUMAN life seems to be the climax of earthly creation. Nothing compares with it in value or importance. A mother lay upon her bed of sickness righting for her own life and that of her unborn child. The physician said that if the mother lived the child must die. It was necessary to cut the little one in pieces. Above the science of surgery arose that woman's love and gave her courage to fight awhile longer, an hour, two hours, for the helpless being in its physical prison. Love conquered science. A beautiful girl came into the world.

The first glance told that the child was perfect. There were ten fingers, ten toes, two arms, two legs, two eyes, two ears, and a form without a flaw. How welcome is the news that all is well! Through the months of development and growth, a mysterious power had been at work shaping the body out of mere flesh and blood; making the bones after a model that was followed to exactness, each curve and turn being true to the pattern; not a bone missing from the tiniest to the largest; some round, some flat, some thin, some thick, some long, some short, yet all as correct and exact as if the maker of this skeleton had kept guard over every particle that entered into its composition. Human invention could not have achieved such perfection. But this was not all.

To the bones were tied muscles that moved in pairs, each having two sets, one to draw the bone forward, the other backward. The muscles were of the exact length required in each case. A human mechanic would have made some too long or too short, and thus endangered the use of parts of the body; but this mysterious artisan cut them the exact length, attached them with a skill that defied imitation, made them as fine as silk for delicate uses, and as strong as cords for the greater strength required. The knitting of the threads that were spun into strings was more elaborate than the most complex machinery could accomplish; and yet no two sets were alike. Such variety of design and execution must have taxed the attention, night and day, of some tireless mind. Imagine how painful it would have been to the child, when matured, had one muscle been a bit too long or a bit too short, or one carelessly attached as though a human being had done 'the work !

TVl A mTTdfariAno o^cinv. AX A x X' ^ ji

:rnal charge - NO exit permitted

Indefinite 11:59 PM

Immortality.

Shaftesbury, Edmund, 1852-1926.

BT921 .E4

0014652551

3d for use inside the Library of Congress only.

tt ° mwcsws oi construction crowd themselves upon our attention. The ruby current is set in motion; the teeming river bears its freight to more ports than all the towns and cities of the earth could equal; and this stream carries in its tiniest drop the

THE MASTERPIECE secret of universal life, known only to the artisan that made it. How fine and silken is the texture of the robe that encases the body; woven about the flesh in shape as regular as magic chisel can hew its masterpiece; yet living with the glow of vital warmth! The sum of the story is told in the fact that, in order to build so intricate a piece of work, and to avoid an excess of mistakes and accidents, it would have required the unceasing attention of ten thousand men ten thousand years, even though they were gifted with the skill to perform the task, Yet our mysterious artisan accomplished it all in a few months, made no mistakes, and avoided all accidents.

We call it a baby, a helpless infant, and love it because it is ours. The home takes on a change. The hours of the day and week revolve about the child, as the planets make their circuits about the central sun. To one who for the first time watches the unfolding of a child's life, it is a continuous panorama of miracles. No existence is more helpless, none so dependent upon the loving care of attendants. In the first look of searching recognition it tells the story of its trust, and every feature pleads for all the affection that large hearts can give. This little girl is peculiarly fortunate. She is an only child, the first and last. She is beautiful in face and form, as though every line had been drawn from the pattern of flowers selected from the gardens of the sky, and blended into the divine image of the Creator.

Months and years passed by, while the little being grew from infancy to babyhood, and from babyhood to childhood. She was most interesting as she learned to walk and talk; the timid and impulsive movements led from creeping to standing; each step was steadied by some hand or object until she had the courage to go alone; and then she tried her new-found powers until the muscles were over-weary. But her little mind caught sounds of words long before her tongue could articulate them. The first syllable came at last; then more; and the little chatterbox grew, in time, to be a very agreeable member of society. She was quite companionable. The world was new to her, but it seemed as though the love her parents gave her was older and more firmly rooted than the everlasting hills.

Happiness reigned supreme in this little family of three. Material prosperity crowned their home; gardens lay before their doors; beyond the lawns a little lake gave to the landscape a charm

1?

that only water can impart when it bears upon its bosom the beauty of an inverted sky; great trees spread their welcome shade on hot summer afternoons against the western windows, or rustled listlessly in each stirring breeze that awakened to the music of their leaves; and peaceful joy breathed through the scene. The parents were devoted to each other. Love Avas not lessened because so large a share had been given to the daughter.

One evening the sun went down in a flood of exquisite beauty. The sky had never before been painted in such glowing colors, nor had the clouds assumed such shapes of lace and 'figurework, so thin and filmy that an accidental breeze must have overwhelmed them with disaster. Through the pink and purple aisles the minarets of some distant city half rose in the long perspective, with balls of gold mounted on their towers like burning globules from the great sun itself; yet daintily distinct in the wide stretch of distance. The air was clear, gentle, sweet and fragrant with summer vines; just the kind of atmosphere that leads to reverie; for one may sit with open, dreaming eyes, and look beyond the farthest verge of earth into a realm beyond.

This child stood watching the sky until the sunken sun seemed to roll in its fiery bed and send zenithward a flood of living flame. The parents both noted a change in the little one's face. It was glad, joyous, exuberant, ecstatic. — "I have seen God/' she cried, and hid her face.