Chapter VIII: Introduction: Doubts Suggested (8)

“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.