* * * * *
The spirit of slavery never takes refuge in the Bible _of its own
accord._ The horns of the altar are its last resort. It seizes them, if
at all, only in desperation--rushing from the terror of the avenger's
arm. Like other unclean spirits, it "hateth the light, neither cometh to
the light, lest its deeds should be reproved." Goaded to phrenzy in its
conflicts with conscience and common sense, denied all quarter, and
hunted from every covert, it breaks at last into the sacred enclosure,
and courses up and down the Bible, "seeking rest, and finding none." THE
LAW OF LOVE, streaming from every page, flashes around it an omnipresent
anguish and despair. It shrinks from the hated light, and howls under
the consuming touch, as demons recoiled from the Son of God, and
shrieked, "Torment us not." At last, it slinks away among the shadows of
the Mosaic system, and thinks to burrow out of sight among its types and
shadows. Vain hope! Its asylum is its sepulchre; its city of refuge, the
city of destruction. It rushes from light into the sun; from heat, into
devouring fire; and from the voice of God into the thickest of His
thunders.
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