it a false alarm. The fire is no less real, for all that. It burns, and rages, and roars, till everybody in the neighborhood sees that something must be done, A few stout leaders break open the doors of the enginehouses, drag out the engines, and begin, regularly or irregularly, playing on the fire. But the destroyer still advances. Messengers come in hot haste to the hall of these deliberators, and, in the unselect language of fear and terror, revile them for not coming out.
"Bless me!" says a decorous leader of the body, "what horrible language these men use!"
"They show a very bad spirit," remarks another; "we can't possibly join them in such a state of things."
Here the more energetic members of the body rush out, to see if the thing be really so; and in a few minutes come back, if possible more earnest than the others.
"O! there is a fire!—a horrible, dreadful fire! The city is burning,—men, women, children, all burning, perishing! Come out, come out! As the Lord liveth, there is but a step between us and death!"
"I am not going out; everybody that goes gets crazy," says one.
"I've noticed," says another, "that as soon as anybody goes out to look, he gets just so excited,—I won't look."
But by this time the angry fire has burned into their very neighborhood. The red demon glares into their windows. And now, fairly aroused, they get up and begin to look out.
"Well, there is a fire, and no mistake!" says one.
"Something ought to be done," says another.
"Yes," says a third; "if it wasn't for being mixed up with such a crowd and rabble of folks, I'd go out."
"Upon my word." says another, "there are women in the ranks, carrying pails of water! There, one woman is going up a ladder to get those children out. What an indecorum! If they'd manage this matter properly, we would join them."
And now come lumbering over from Charlestown the engines and fire-companies.
"What impudence of Charlestown," say these men, "to be sending over here,—just as if we could not put our own fires out! They have fires over there, as much as we do."
And now the flames roar and burn, and shake hands across the streets. They leap over the steeples, and glare demoniacally out of the church-windows.
"For Heaven's sake, do something!" is the cry. "Pull down the houses! Blow up those blocks of stores with gunpowder! Anything to stop it."
"See, now, what ultra, radical measures they are going at," says one of these spectators.
Brave men, who have rushed into the thickest of the fire, come out, and fall dead in the street.
"They are impracticable enthusiasts. They have thrown their lives away in fool-hardiness," says another.
So, church of Christ, burns that awful fire! Evermore burning, burning, burning, over church and altar; burning over senate-house and forum; burning up liberty, burning up religion! No earthly hands kindled that fire. From its sheeted flame and wreaths of sulphurous smoke glares out upon thee the eye of that enemy who was a murderer from the beginninsr. It is a fire that burns to the lowest hell!
Church of Christ, there was an hour when this fire might have been extinguished by thee. Now, thou standest like a mighty man astonished,—like a mighty man that cannot save. But the Hope of Israel is not dead. The Saviour thereof in time of trouble is yet alive.
If every church in our land were hung with mourning,—if every Christian should put on sack-cloth,—if "the priest should weep between the porch and the altar," and say, "Spare thy people, Lord, and give not thy heritage to reproach!"—that were not too great a mourning for such a time as this.
O, church of Jesus! consider what hath been said in the midst of thee. What a heresy hast thou tolerated in thy bosom! Thy God the defender of slavery!—thy God the patron of slave-law! Thou hast suffered the character of thy God to be slandered. Thou hast suffered false witness against thy Redeemer and thy Sanctifier. The Holy Trinity of heaven has been foully traduced in the midst of thee; and that God whose throne is awful in justice has been made the patron and leader of oppression.
This is a sin against every Christian on the globe.
Why do we love and adore, beyond all things, our God? Why do we say to him, from our inmost souls, "Whom have I in heaven but thee, and there is none upon earth I desire beside thee"? Is this a
