There were persons present from places nearly two
hundred miles distant. Hugh Miller, the Scotch geologist, was there one
night. As usual, both parties considered themselves victorious. And both
were right. Neither the truth nor the error was all on one side; nor was
the argument. Christianity was something different from the creed of
either party, and something more and better. It was more and better than
the creeds of both parties put together. My opponent, though something
of a Christian, was more of a theologian. He was committed to a system,
and could not see beyond it, or dared not accept any views at variance
with its doctrines. Hence he went in direct opposition to the plainest
teachings of the Scriptures, and the clearest dictates of common sense.
He found it necessary also, to spend a portion of his time in foolish
criticisms on Greek and Hebrew words, and in efforts to make the worse
appear the better reason. As for myself, I was committed to change. I
was travelling downwards at the time, at a rather rapid rate, and was
not to be turned back, or even made to slacken my pace. The ordinary
kind of theological vanities I regarded with the utmost contempt, and I
had come to look on some portions even of Christ's own teachings as
nothing more than doubtful human opinions.
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