Transcribed from the 1835 William Carson edition by David Price, email
ccx074@pglaf.org

                        [Picture: Pamphlet cover]





                           REASONS FOR LEAVING
                                   THE
                             CHURCH OF ROME.


                                  BY THE

                            REV. L. J. NOLAN,

                         OF THE DIOCESE OF MEATH:

                                  LATELY

                       A ROMAN CATHOLIC CLERGYMAN,

                                 BUT NOW

                        OF THE ESTABLISHED CHURCH.

                                * * * * *

                                 DUBLIN:
                               PUBLISHED BY
                   WILLIAM CARSON, 92, GRAFTON-STREET;
                           AND SOLD BY MESSRS.
        R. M. TIMS; WILLIAM CURRY, JUN. & CO.; J. ROBERTSON & CO;
                      J. BURNSIDE; GRANT AND BOLTON,
         J. BOLSTER, CORK; G. PHILIPPS, AND WM. M‘COMB, BELFAST;
              J. NISBET, LONDON; WAUGH AND INNIS, EDINBURGH.

                               M.DCCC.XXXV.

                                * * * * *




DEDICATION.


                           TO SIR GEORGE RICH.

MY DEAR SIR GEORGE,

YOUR zeal in the cause of religion, your accomplishments as a perfect
Gentleman, and your virtues as a true Christian, induce me to dedicate to
you the following avowal of my religious opinions.  Though your high
estimation as to public character should demand from me a less familiar
tone of language in addressing you, still the thoughts of your past
kindness, in the hours of my worldly abandonment, bid me lay aside those
expressions which a more formal etiquette might require, and address you
now as I would a true, a sincere, but most honored and respected friend.
As I have received no special favor from you, but the ordinary
manifestation of your kindness; and as I expect no more than your
continuance of such civility, I hope you will not look upon those words
as the result of adulation, nor the public consider them as the language
of hypocrisy; for adulation never bends without some intended object, nor
does hypocrisy ever act without some hope of compensation.

I would wish that these dedicatory lines should be also expressive of my
gratitude for the kindness of my lately acquired friends.  The warmth of
my feelings urges me on to a public recital of their names, but a more
cool reflection dictates to me at the same time the propriety of their
silence.  The useful instructions they have imparted—the domestic
happiness of which they had often made me a partaker, and the evident
anxiety they have displayed in contributing to my eternal interests, have
made impressions on my mind which shall never be obliterated.

The proffered liberality of others I shall never forget—I mean those,
who, when imagining me in a state of pecuniary embarrassment, have made
me a tender of their purses.  But let not my refusal on such occasions
bespeak a want of humility on my part; but rather let it be attributed to
the suggestions of that principle, which told me, that it is religion,
and not emolument, which should constitute the chief object of my change.

While to you, Sir George, and my other lately acquired friends, I offer
the warmest acknowledgement of my gratitude, I look with pity, at the
same time, upon those who are the mere nominal professors of our
faith—those who court one’s friendship when they imagine that either his
name or his presence would be an addition to their unmerited popularity;
but who would afterwards reject his intercourse, for no other cause than
that of becoming a conscientious member of their religion.  Such nominal
adhesion to our faith is sometimes worse in its acts than the most avowed
hostility to our creed.

I met with one or two others, whose elevated rank in life might point to
a more distinguished course in religion, and whose conduct to me would
afford a sufficient subject for complaint; but as my intended pamphlet is
divested of any insidious reference, this dedication must be also freed
from unbecoming personalities.  Let, however, such individuals reflect
that, should I refrain from the following avowal of my sentiments, the
resources of a respectable relationship would furnish me with the means
of independent subsistence.  But the advancement of religion is my
object—conscience must be my director—for emolument is not my theme.

Should any portion of the following pages be considered as couched in the
language of either abuse or misrepresentation, let the fault be ascribed
not to the intention, but to the unconsciousness of the writer; for I
have never looked upon scurrility as proof, nor misrepresentation as
argument.  The one prejudices individuals against the writer, while the
other serves only to confirm those errors which a mistaken zeal might be
anxious to correct.

In pursuing those thoughts I find I have exceeded the usual limits of a
dedication; however, I trust that the matter I had to convey will serve
as an apology both to the public and to you, my dear Sir George, from

                                                    Your most obedient and
                                                            Ever grateful,

                                                              L. J. NOLAN.

_Dublin_, 14_th_ _February_, 1835.




TO THE
ROMAN CATHOLICS OF IRELAND.


    “So as much as in me is I am ready to preach the Gospel to you that
    are at Rome also.  For I am not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ; for
    it is the power of God unto salvation to every one that
    believeth.”—ROM. i. 15–16.

MY DEAR ROMAN CATHOLIC FRIENDS,

SOME months have now elapsed since my separation from your community.
The past delicacy of my health—the thoughts of the important duty I have
hereafter to discharge, and a consideration of its awful responsibility,
have obliged me to defer until now the following open avowal of my
religious opinions.  But my change in life has not diminished my ardour
for your spiritual interests; on the contrary, my desires for your
eternal salvation have increased.  Your past kindness has a particular
claim upon my gratitude, and highly undeserving should I be in the eyes
of the public, were I to remain unmindful of your generosity.  Yes, I
will assert without any fear of contradiction, that there is no Roman
Catholic Clergyman in Ireland could boast of more acts of attention from
a people, than I have experienced from your hands in the discharge of my
clerical duties.  Your actions had ever corresponded with the profession
of your kindness towards me, and your liberality had always stamped the
mark of your approbation upon my conduct in life.  But I hope you will do
me the justice in saying, that I have never deviated from the path of
honor to catch the air of a fleeting popularity.  Well then, my dear
friends, allow me to submit a few humble questions in the language of
sincerity to your most serious consideration.  But before I do so, do you
throw aside your prejudices—cast off those thoughts which unfounded
calumnies might suggest to your minds—and then, as is mentioned in
Isaiah, “Come now, and let us reason together.” Isa. i. 18.  Why have I
left the circles of your tried friendship, for the uncertainties of yet
doubtful acquaintances?  Why have I bartered the smiles for the insulting
sneers of you a once attached people?  Why exchange the scenes of worldly
ease, of worldly comfort, and worldly independence, for the struggles of
a more arduous duty?  Are you not aware, that were I to bend the knee of
hypocrisy beneath the mitred head of Roman Episcopal jurisdiction, and
submit to those doctrines which Roman credulity would impose, there is
not one whose prospects would be more realised, or whose independence
more secure?  Why have I retired from the pampered sanctuary of your
wealthy church, to look for shelter beneath the persecution of an
insulted religion?  Why have I made such an exchange in life?  Oh, my
friends, I will tell you.  It is because I have a poor soul to save, and
feel convinced that its salvation could not be acquired by continuing in
the character of a Roman Clergyman.  It is because I have made a solemn
promise on bended knees, and have called upon the heavens to attest the
sincerity of my words, that I would no longer act under the garb of
hypocrisy.  It is because, throwing all worldly concerns out of my view,
and banishing all thoughts of a temporising necessity from my mind, I
have at length accepted of the kind invitation of Jesus, saying, “Come
out from among them and be ye separate—and I will receive you, and be a
Father unto you.” 2 Cor. vi. 17, 18.

In adopting my present change in life, I anticipate, more or less, the
difficulties I have to encounter—the troubles I have to overcome, and the
sacrifices I must naturally make on the present trying occasion.  The
friends of my past life—the companions of other days, and the
acquaintances of my more mature years, have abandoned me.  The very
relations who watched over my infant years—who led me by the hand from
the cradle of youth into the maturity of life, have also forsaken me; but
Heaven, I trust, has not done so—God, I trust, will be my protector; and
“if God be for us, who can be against us?” Rom. viii. 31.  Oh, my
friends, let persons pause before they condemn—let truth take the place
of falsehood—let reason but act as the substitute for prejudice—and then
I will ask the candid mind the important question, “should I remain under
a conviction of my error?”  Should I, for a mere temporary gratification,
barter an eternal good?  Should I, for merely ministering to the wishes
of friends and relations, damn this soul which is destined for
immortality?  Oh, my friends, consider me, when in the character of the
Roman Priesthood, and I will again put the important question, “should I
remain any longer under a conviction of my error?”  Think of me, going
from the sanctuary to the altar, clothed in the priestly vest—a vest
which I considered as a mere parade of ecclesiastical pomp.  Consider me
then as being looked upon as the medium of propitiation between the
living and the dead—between heaven and earth—between man and his Creator,
and offering up what was considered as a sacrifice of propitiation by
some, but what was believed to be only a figure or memorial by me that
offered on the occasion; would I not deserve to be damned—shall I repeat
the unsanctified expression—would I not deserve to be damned for ever,
should I continue any longer bending the knee of hypocrisy beneath the
altar of dissimulation?  Yes, and for having continued so long under a
conviction of my error, I now most humbly implore forgiveness, for I
should have long since acted in correspondence with the words of our
Saviour—“For what shall it profit a man if he shall gain the whole world,
and lose his own soul?—or what shall a man give in exchange for his
soul?” Mark viii. 36–37.

Perhaps it would be asserted by some, that my present change is the
effect of the moment—that it originates from whim or caprice, and is not
the result of coolness and reflection.  But, my friends, the months that
have passed by since the first open avowal of my sentiments to my then
Roman Catholic Bishop, in the presence of another Roman Catholic
Clergyman, would serve as an answer to such accusations; while my written
as well as personal communications upon this subject, with the truly
pious and Protestant Rector of Castletowndelvin, long previous to the
open announcement of my sentiments to my bishop, must falsify the
assertion, that “this change is the result of the moment.”  Allow me also
to tell you, that I have mentioned my past doubts, not only months, but
years ago, to a near relation, who summed up many a plausible argument to
dissuade me from that course, which, I trust, under the guidance of
heaven I have now adopted: and what is more, in compliance with the
request of my late friends, I have gone to some of the most distinguished
members of the Roman religion, to explain to them my doubts; but their
mystified evasions upon plain and evident truths, have only tended to
confirm me in the conviction of their errors.

Oh, my friends, my present change is not the effect of the moment, but it
is the effect of a mind that has overcome an almost invincible
prejudice—a prejudice that grew up with my youthful days—that accompanied
my more mature years, and had nearly interwoven itself around the future
destinies of my soul.  It is the effect of a mind that has taken
impartiality for its guide, and looked upon truth as the sole object of
its ambition—a mind that has ruminated day and night upon the
subject—that has viewed both sides of the question coolly, attentively,
and I trust religiously, and has now come to this determination, which is
founded on a consciousness of its rectitude.  During those hours of
darkness, when “sleep falleth upon man”—when others were taking that
repose to which the silence of the night or exhausted nature might invite
them—I trust it is not too much the language of egotism for me to say,
that during the silent hours, when thinking of my present change, I had
often bedewed the nightly pillow with the tears of affliction—“my
eye-lids had grown dim with grief”—my nights were turned into day because
of my watching—and I could find no rest until I obeyed the advice of the
Psalmist, saying, “To-day if yon will hear his voice—harden not your
hearts.”  Psalm xcv. 7–8.

There was a period of time which does not require much aid from memory to
bring to your recollection, when political turmoil had diffused itself
over the face of this country—when the feelings of charity seemed more or
less suspended, and violence of language was frequently resorted to as
the surest mode of pleasing—a time when a state of indifference was
looked on as highly criminal, and when, even persons in the sacerdotal
character, had sometimes recourse to political harangues, as a digest for
religious instruction from the altar.  At that time many through motives,
perhaps, of ambition—others through a desire of vain glory—while some
through a conviction of its utility, engaged in the political struggles
of the day; and though it may be painful to my feelings to advert to such
a period, still I feel bound to acknowledge, that a mistaken zeal for
religion, unaccompanied with the experience of wiser days, urged me on as
no idle spectator of the scene.  But, blessed be God for all things—when
my mind turned upon the serious question of religion—when I looked upon
the book of God as the sole standard of my faith—when I began to view,
through the medium of impartiality, the important subject of my eternal
salvation, my mind became the more enlarged, and my thoughts the more
expanded by the occurrence.  Doubt followed doubt—my prejudices began to
vanish beneath the sunshine of a more liberal knowledge—the elements of
darkness became at length superseded by the glorious principles of
unerring light—while the effulgence of that religion, which I had so
often misrepresented through life, pierced through the mystic veil, in
which my mind was enveloped, leaving me the consolation upon this day of
being addressed by my Protestant brethren in the language of the
Apostle—“That he which persecuted us in times past, now preacheth the
faith which once he destroyed.” Gal. i. 23.

There are some, perhaps, who, if similarly situated as I am, would prefer
the private moment to the public hour for making an open avowal of their
sentiments; but I have considered it to be the imperative, the
indispensable duty of a true convert in Jesus, to act in conformity with
the advice of the Scriptures, “by raising his voice like a trumpet to
strengthen his brethren, and to shew the people their errors.”  Yes; and
though the opprobrious epithets of “renegade to the religion of my youth,
and apostate from the faith of my fathers,” may be annexed to my present
conviction of soul, still, as St. Paul gloried in the titles of fool,
madman, and apostate, with which disbelief upbraided him on his
conversion to Christianity, so shall I glory in similar appellations,
“for I am not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ.”

I know, my friends, that among your community there are Roman Catholic
Clergymen who possess the same conviction of soul that I do, as to the
errors of your religion; but the worldly considerations of present ease
and anticipated troubles, prevent their due exercise of conscience.  The
unmerited epithet of apostacy alarms them—the thoughts of separating from
worldly comforts, from present friends and relations, strike horror into
their souls—and thus it is that those cares of passing life supersede the
concerns of their eternal welfare.—But will they go to the tomb with the
consciousness of such errors as their accompaniment?—and for those
transitory objects will they destroy that soul which is to be the heir of
immortality?  Oh! let them come forth.  That hand which provideth food
for the ravens of the air, will also provide for us, and God will be our
defence—“for God is a shield to those that put their trust in him.”

My friends, many of you ask each other, how is it possible that the Rev.
Mr. Nolan, who has spent so many years at his academical and collegiate
course, and upon whose education so much money and pains had been
expended, should only now become a convert to the Protestant religion?
This is a general question among you all.  It was proposed to me a few
days ago at an hotel in Dublin, by a respectable Roman Catholic, one of
the very few, of that persuasion, that has conversed with me since my
change from the Church of Rome.  But the answer to such a question is
obvious.  The human mind in this instance may be compared to the human
body; for as it advances in years, it increases in strength; so that some
of these doctrines which were so carefully inculcated during the time of
youth, may afterwards, when placed before the test of wiser days and
better experience, appear in all the inconsistency of their formation.

Take a short view of the life of an individual who may be destined from
his infancy to discharge the priestly functions, and your surprise cannot
be excited at my deferring my conversion thus long.  Scarcely is the
infant tongue formed to expression, when it is taught to pronounce the
names of the Roman doctrines; and scarcely is the developement of the
human mind discovered, when the principles of these doctrines are most
carefully introduced; and then, like the young Scion of the land, or the
tender flower of the field, the youthful mind becomes susceptible of the
first impression.  The anxious watchings of affectionate but misguided
parents; the successful examples of employed attendants, and the well
paid services of wily or deluded instructors, all combine in confirming
those opinions which error had implanted.  The individual enters upon his
academical course.  There his mind, as to Scriptural knowledge, is
scarcely enlarged by the change; for, if he hears of any reference to the
book of life, it is only for a partial selection of bare and isolated
texts, that may be calculated to uphold the members of one religion, and
misrepresent the abettors of another.  Thus enveloped in unscriptural
darkness, the individual enters into the collegiate department as the
last preparation for his missionary labors.  But here, also, the
advantages of Scriptural knowledge become partially contracted; for that
time which should be occupied in searching the word of God, is nearly
engrossed with what are called the quibbles of a moral theology.  Such,
my friends, you know to be the description of him whose means would allow
a similar preparation for the priesthood; and as such it is perfectly
applicable to him who is the writer of these lines.  Such were the
difficulties I had to encounter—such were the prejudices I had to
combat—and such must be my apology for the deferring of my conversion
those years back.  It was only when placing my hand on the Bible, and
saying that its contents should form the ground-work of my faith, the
bulwark of my salvation; it was only then the spirit of God had entered
into my heart, giving me both the understanding to perceive, and the
courage to acknowledge my error.  May the same spirit guide you into a
similar perception of your errors, and a similar fearlessness as to their
acknowledgement.



SECOND PART.


Having mentioned, my friends, in the preceding part of this pamphlet the
kindness you had always exercised towards me—the worldly comforts I could
enjoy by remaining in your church, and the difficulties I must now
encounter by separating from your communion, I will submit to you in the
two subsequent parts of my pamphlet, some of the reasons that have
influenced my conduct upon so important a change in life.  I will not
dwell, however, upon those doctrines, with which, from your want of
Scriptural knowledge, you are but little acquainted: and though I do not
now detain you on the doctrine of Justification by Faith, still you must
admit, as the Apostle says, “that without faith it is impossible to
please God.”  Therefore no act of ours can be considered as good or
acceptable in the sight of God, except faith be its foundation.  Again,
no matter how good or acceptable those works may be in the sight of God,
still they cannot be said to merit salvation; for it is mentioned in the
2d chap. 8th and 9th verses of the Ephesians—“By grace are you saved
through faith, and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God, not of
works, lest any man should boast;” and therefore it is not according to
our own merits, but through the merits of Jesus Christ, that salvation
can be acquired.  But, my friends, this does not exclude the necessity of
good works upon our part, for our good works must be conformable to our
faith in Christ, of which they are the external evidence.

I will not dwell either, upon the doctrine of Infallibility, so falsely
claimed by the Church of Rome, as it would require more than the compass
of this pamphlet would allow, to make its name even intelligible to most
of you; although I might briefly hint at the wild supposition of a few
fallible beings meeting together and constituting an infallibility; as
much as to say, that a compound of any thing may contain that which is
essentially different from its parts, which appears to me as most
extravagant.

As to your doctrine of the invocation of saints, I will not detain you
for any time upon this subject.  I never believed in the necessity of
invoking them; nor does the intelligent portion of Roman Catholics
believe in the necessity of invoking them; nor do any of your divines who
have the least pretensions to learning, attempt to say that it is
indispensably requisite to have recourse to the invocation of saints: for
though your Council of Trent, in the twenty-fifth session, would appear
to some to be quite explicit upon the subject, still your divines, in
interpreting that council, agree that it is only useful and profitable,
but not indispensably requisite for you to have recourse to the
intercession of the saints.  Such an assertion may be a matter of
surprise to some of my Protestant friends, but to you let it serve as a
subject of utility: and lest it might be considered as the result of
artful invention with me, I will now give you the words of your favorite
divine, Dr. Milner, on the occasion.—In his book entitled “The End of
Controversy,” and in his “Thirty-third Letter to James Browne, Esq.” he
says—“In conclusion you will observe that the Council of Trent barely
teaches that it is good and profitable to invoke the prayers of the
saints; hence our divines infer that there is no positive law of the
church incumbent on all her children to pray to the saints.”  Such are
the words of your respected but now deceased Rev. Dr. Milner.  He died a
few years ago.  The bare mention of his name carries to each of you the
recollection of his character.  He was looked on as the standard of your
faith, as the almost infallible guide in your religion.—His words are
only expressive of the real sentiments of your other divines upon this
subject; so that, my friends, you may observe that it is only a partial
ignorance among some of you as to the real doctrine in this respect, that
points to so wide a distinction between you and my Protestant brethren.

Nor shall I dwell upon the doctrine of confession, the modern observance
of which I may at some future period shew to be neither conformable to
the word of God, nor sanctioned by the practice of the apostolic age.—And
now, my friends, to speak most seriously on the subject, has it not often
lulled you into a most dangerous security, that your sins were forgiven
you, when you had neither sorrow for the committal of, nor the
determination not to commit those crimes again?—However I shall not dwell
upon those doctrines at present; but shall now direct your attention to
that doctrine with which you are most acquainted—I mean
Transubstantiation.  I will in this second part of the pamphlet point out
to you my reasons, which, guided by the spirit of truth, led me to a
disbelief upon this subject of Transubstantiation: and in the third part
of this pamphlet, I will produce to you the scriptural arguments that
have confirmed my conviction as to that disbelief.  But first, I must lay
down the doctrine of Transubstantiation according to the Council of
Trent.

Roman Catholics assert, that during the mass, according to the words of
the Council of Trent, ses. 13 and can. 2—“That the entire substance of
the bread is converted into the body, and the entire substance of the
wine into the blood of Christ, the appearances of the bread and wine only
remaining, and this is called Transubstantiation.”

Now I assert, that such a supposition is directly contrary to our senses
and our reason, and as such, is unworthy of our belief.  The senses are
the avenues or inlets to our reason, while reason becomes the voice of
God himself speaking unto us.  Reason is the medium of communication
between the Creator and the creature.  It is the standard of our
judgment, and the supreme tribunal where all our knowledge is acquired,
and where the existence of the Deity himself becomes discovered to the
human mind.  Yes, reason is that grand feature, the reflection of the
divinity, which in a great degree assimilates man to the image of his
Creator; and thus it is, that when the senses give their united testimony
as to the existence of an object, and that reason stands forth to
pronounce upon the veracity of their assertion, to such conclusive
evidence the scriptures attach the seal of infallibility; and it would be
blasphemous (according to the words of Christ himself to the Jews, in the
case of Lazarus) to deny the force of their allegation.  I do not want
here to summon before the bar of finite comprehension the infinite power
of Eternal Providence—I do not want to uncover the veil of the sanctuary,
and pry into the mysteries of that Eternal Being, which hath made
darkness his dwelling place, and the thick clouds the pavilion of his
glory—I do not deny that the ways of God are unsearchable—that his divine
essence is above the reach of human senses—that there are invisible
truths far beyond the human comprehension, and that man cannot dive into
the unfathomable depths of the Trinity or Incarnation.  But is the
composition of a little water and flour beyond the reach of my
understanding? and when my reason and senses unite in telling me that
that composition of flour and water cannot be changed into the body and
blood of Christ without implying a principle of self-destroying
contradiction, let me ask, is it not more natural to obey the dictates of
my reason, telling me, that God will not transgress that moral restraint
which the formation of his own laws has voluntarily imposed upon him, is
it not better that I should do so than that I should attribute to the
Godhead some of the most unaccountable extravagancies that human reason
could suggest?  Let justice but decide, and truth will bow in affirmation
of the remark.

But Roman Catholics, in support of their doctrine of transubstantiation,
say, “Cannot he who has formed the heavens and the earth—who has created
all things, visible and invisible—who has changed the rod of Moses into a
serpent, and the waters into rivers of blood in Egypt—who has changed
Lot’s wife into a pillar of salt, and who has changed the water into wine
at the marriage of Cana, cannot he (say they) empower the priest,
representing the person of Christ, to change the bread into the body, and
the wine into the blood of Christ?”

My friends, in my answer to this, let it not be understood that I want to
circumscribe infinite power within the narrow precincts of human
limitation.  I do not want to append to Eternal Providence the confined
restrictions of mortality.  I know that infinite wisdom can contrive, and
infinite power can execute far more than human reason can comprehend; but
while I admit the truth of these appeals to divine power in the one
instance, I must reject the false supposition of change in the other.
For, when God changed the rod of Moses into a serpent, and the waters
into rivers of blood in Egypt, or when our Saviour changed the waters
into wine at the marriage of Cana; these were changes that were palpably
evident to the senses, that the senses judged of, and were not
contradictory to reason.  But, with regard to the supposed change, during
the time of the mass, of the bread into the body, and the wine into the
blood of Christ, allow me to tell you, my friends, that I have considered
such a change to be contrary to my senses and most repugnant to my
reason.  For, as often as I had taken into my hands that bread to bless,
I found it the same, after, as previous to consecration; having the same
texture, presenting the same form, and producing to my mind the self same
identical effects.  As often as I looked on it after consecration, I
observed it to be bread—when I touched it after consecration I felt it to
be bread; and “if faith” (as the Roman Catholics must have it) comes from
hearing and not from seeing, when I broke the bread after consecration, I
both saw and heard the result of its being bread; reason then told me
that it was more or less blasphemous to deny the united testimony of my
senses giving such unbroken evidence to facts so perceptible to their
powers, and I have yielded to such conviction.

Oh, my friends, I had often thought during the time of the mass, that if
I could change the bread into the body and the wine into the blood of my
Redeemer, that I would consequently possess a most exorbitant power—that
I would transcend by the nobleness of my act the infinite majesty of
heaven itself—that my Creator should be at the beck of my fancy—that
whenever or wherever my will suggested, I might summon Him from the
throne of his Eternal Majesty and convert upon the altar of frailty a
little scrap of insignificant bread into the body, the blood, the soul
and divinity of my Maker.  Oh, my friends, that God who measureth the
tops of the mountains in a balance, and the waters of the sea in the
hollow of his hands—that he, who rideth upon the whirlwinds, making the
earth his footstool and the canopy of heaven his covering—that he, who
formed the heavens and the earth, all things visible and invisible—that
he should descend from his eternal throne to enter into the womb of a
virgin mother—there to be inclosed for the long space of nine revolving
months, and afterwards to be born, in time, under the figure of a mere
child—under the form and the habit of a poor slave; oh, my friends, it is
human redemption alone, could call for such an act of humiliation.  But
that the Saviour of the world, after having offered one, eternal,
immeasurable and unspeakable sacrifice for the sins of mankind, and that
after having been placed by his own irrevocable decree at the right hand
of God, that he should descend from his throne of eternal justice upon
the altar of human weakness, and that there, at the mere announcement of
a few insignificant words, falling from the lips of a poor weak mortal,
he should suffer a wretched collection of diminutive portions of bread,
of similar figure, of similar size, but of similar material as common
wafer—that he should suffer them to be converted into his Infinite
Majesty—that that Infinite Majesty should continue whole and entire under
each such particular species of bread—that afterwards he should allow his
boundless omnipotence to be confined within the narrow precincts of a
poor miserable little box, commonly called a pixis, and then to be
hacknied about from place to place, and distributed from person to person
according to the whim or caprice of human suggestions—such, my friends, I
have considered, would be unworthy of Infinite Majesty—would be
derogatory to his eternal attributes—subversive of the principles of that
humanity with which God had vested himself, and contradictory to those
words which I hold as unalterably true, that if the resurrection has
added glory to, it has not annihilated the humanity of a Redeemer.

But you, Roman Catholics, will assert, as an objection to what I have now
laid down, that as the senses deceived us in some respects they may for a
similar reason deceive us with regard to Transubstantiation: and in proof
of your assertion you will say (as others have said already) “that the
senses were deceived with regard to the Holy Ghost descending in the form
of a dove upon our Saviour receiving baptism from John;” and again you
will say, “that the senses have been deceived, inasmuch as they often
imagined angels to be men;” and therefore you will conclude, (as many
other Roman Catholics have done) that our senses are also deceived with
regard to Transubstantiation.

But, my friends, in the above instances the senses did not deceive,
inasmuch as the sense of vision or of sight, judges only from
appearances, and therefore its testimony in the cases quoted was true.
But who would assert that all the senses combined together in the above
instances were deceived; for, if all the senses were deceived, how could
reason pronounce upon the Holy Ghost being in the form of a dove, or the
angels being in the appearance of men, since it was from the senses only
that reason formed its judgment upon those occasions?  And hence it is,
that while in certain cases, one portion of the senses imparts the
language of appearances, in the very same cases, another portion of our
senses implies the language of reality.  And thus it is, that when the
senses, in their unimpaired and natural state, view objects at a proper
distance and through a proper medium, and that reason pronounces on their
veracity, disbelief can be no longer attached to their allegation, and
therefore it is, that Transubstantiation must be false; for the bread is
a quite palpable and perceptible object to the senses.  The sight tells
that it is not the body—the touch feels it is not the body—the taste is
convinced of its not being the body—and the hearing, from the result of
sound, joins in the assertion that it is not the body; while reason also
attests the impossibility of its being the body of Christ.

If the senses were to deceive us in objects so perceptible to their
powers, and were that to be pronounced as true, what reason declares as a
contradiction, then deceit might be ascribed to the Deity—then it might
be asserted, that men were led into an inexplicable chaos of illusions,
and impostures, and that reason and the senses, which we have received
from the beneficent author of nature, as the mediums of our preservation
and happiness, were only the gifts of a demoniac power, with the words of
no reliance marked on their formation.  Oh, my friends, were the senses
to be deceived in their combined testimony upon objects so perceptible to
their powers as bread and wine, then universal Pyrrhonism would follow,
that is a doubt as to all things and a belief as to nothing—then would
all the arts and sciences be subverted, and then would the existence of
the Deity stand without proof—then the noble structures of religion would
totter to their base—revelation itself would be at an end—the death, the
resurrection, the ascension and miracles of our Lord, these mighty
bulwarks of a Christian’s faith, would be overthrown; for, are not the
senses the great external arguments and evidences of Christianity?

Before I conclude my remarks upon this part of the subject, allow me to
make them obvious to the capacity of each of you, by one example.
Suppose an individual told me, that this pen, which I now hold in my
hand, was in reality a man; why, I should instantly deny the assertion,
and say, this is impossible; for the united testimony of my senses and my
reason tells me, that this pen is not a man, as it has neither the
appearances nor properties of a man—that my senses and reason are the
gifts of God—that, therefore, they cannot deceive me, with regard to an
object so palpable, so perceptible to their powers, and that therefore I
conclude, this pen is not a man.  But, should the supposed individual go
farther and say, “I would not tell you a lie, and will prove by miracles
that the pen which you hold in your hand is really a man.”  Miracles I
would say!  Is it not my senses that are to judge of your miracles; and
if my senses deceive me with regard to this pen, what is to prevent them
from deceiving me also with regard to your miracles; for if they be
deceived in one case, a similar reason may imply deceit in the other?
Therefore that the miracles of our Lord may not be exposed to
uncertainty—that the death, resurrection and ascension of our Redeemer
may not be liable to doubt—that the certainty of all human knowledge—the
very consciousness of our own being, and that the very existence of the
Deity may not be rendered dubious; in fine, that a doubt as to all
things, and a belief as to nothing, may not follow, it is necessary to
believe, that the senses could not deceive us with regard to objects so
perceptible to their powers; and therefore, I consider, that the doctrine
of Transubstantiation must be false, as being directly contrary to our
senses and most repugnant to our reason.

Among the many reasons that influenced my disbelief as to the doctrine of
Transubstantiation, there is another which I have considered to be of no
trivial tendency on the subject.  I could not conceive that a finite or
material substance could be in two or more places at the same instant of
time: that is, I could not imagine those years past, that the body of our
Saviour, which the resurrection has not deprived of its humanity, could
be wholly and substantially in my hands, and wholly and substantially
over many portions of the globe, at the same identical moment; for I
consider that finite substances, whether glorified or corruptible, must
be subject to finite laws and regulations.

I know there are some however who would say, “that according to the
principles of metaphysical or philosophical observations, that it could
not be proved, that it is impossible for one body to be in many places at
the same time.”

But, my friends, a primary truth or self evident principle is not to be
lost among the mysterious windings of metaphysical subtleties; and when
reason fully comprehends or clearly understands a subject, and pronounces
truth over the object of its comprehension, the mad ravings of an
unrestrained philosophy are not to be credited, when suggesting a mere
suspicion of falsehood.  Oh, my friends, to say that the same body could
be wholly and substantially in my hands during the time of the mass, and
wholly and substantially in the hands of thousands of others at the same
identical moment, and to require a belief of such an assertion, would be
demanding a complete surrender of common sense—a prostration of the human
intellect—while it would be divesting man of that grand attribute, that
noble characteristic of his being—I mean reason, which is the pure gift
of God.

But Roman Catholics say, “we do not understand the meaning of the
Trinity; that is, we do not understand how three persons constitute one
God, and therefore say they, though we do not comprehend how the body of
Christ could be in many places at the same time, still we should
believe.”

But, my friends, there is no comparison between the two cases; for when I
assert that three persons constitute the unity of a God, I do not mean to
say that they constitute that unity in the self same sense, but that they
constitute that unity in a distinct sense; and therefore it is not
impossible, nor contradictory to my senses, nor repugnant to my reason to
make use of such an assertion.  But that three or a thousand material
bodies should constitute one body, and that one body should constitute
three or thousands of bodies, this is what I consider to be impossible in
itself, and most contradictory to my senses and my reason, but of which
Transubstantiation requires a firm belief: for a person believing that
doctrine, must believe that the body which one priest holds in his hands,
wholly and substantially, must be also wholly and substantially in the
hands of thousands of others.

But you, Roman Catholics, again say, “we do not know the nature of a
glorified body, and therefore you conclude that the glorified body of
Christ might be in many places at the same time.”

This seems to me absurd; for though the resurrection had added glory to,
still it has not annihilated the humanity of Christ.  This is evident,
first, from the words of Christ to his Apostles collectively; for when he
appeared among them after his resurrection, he said, as is mentioned in
Luke xxiv. 39—“Handle me and see, for a spirit hath not flesh and bones
as ye see me have.”  Therefore the resurrection has not abolished the
humanity of our Saviour.  Again, our Saviour said to Thomas, as is
mentioned in John xx. 27—“Reach hither thy finger and behold my hand; and
reach hither thy hand and thrust it into my side.”  Therefore, from these
two passages, the one addressed by our Saviour to the Apostles
collectively, and the other to St. Thomas individually, it is evident
that the resurrection has not abolished the humanity of Christ, but that
he has flesh and bones like us, even in his glorified state.  If he has
flesh and bones like us (as has been already proved to you,) his body
must necessarily be a finite substance—if a finite, or what is the same,
a limited substance, it must necessarily be subject to finite or limited
laws—if subject to limited laws, it cannot be consequently in many places
at the same time.  Therefore the belief as to Transubstantiation must be
false.

But, my friends, more of you, Roman Catholics, say upon this subject,
“that as the body of our Saviour entered into the room where the Apostles
were assembled together, though the windows and doors were closed at the
time, that therefore the body of our Saviour was and can be in many
places at the same time.”—The answer to this is plain; for in order that
this objection would hold good on the present occasion, it would be
necessary to shew that when the body of our Saviour was in the room with
the Apostles, it was also in another or a thousand different places at
the same instant of time.  Many natural reasons also could be given as to
how the body of our Saviour might have entered the room of the Apostles
without their perceiving him enter, or without supposing that his body
was in many places at the same time.

There are more Roman Catholics who, in endeavouring to explain the mode
by which our Saviour’s body might be present in many places at the same
time, assert, “that as our Saviour fed the multitude of the five thousand
with five loaves, without any increase as to the number of the loaves,
that therefore our Saviour’s body could, by a similar mode of reasoning,
be received by many at the same instant.” {30}  But, my friends, in order
that this argument would hold good in the present instance, it would be
necessary that each of the multitude referred to would eat an entire loaf
wholly and substantially, without part or parcel; for Roman Catholics
hold, that it is not a part of our Saviour’s body, but the whole of his
body, which is taken by each individual, on receiving their sacrament.

Some Roman Catholics also endeavour to show our Saviour’s body could be
present in many places at the same time, “by attaching to it a velocity,
or what is the same, a quickness, which would be almost equal to an
infinite velocity or quickness; so that no sensible interval of time
would exist between a body being here and a thousand separate parts of
the globe at the same instant.”  But this is totally subversive of the
doctrine of Transubstantiation; for, no matter how great the velocity or
quickness of the body might be, still, if that quickness were not equal
to an infinite quickness the doctrine of Transubstantiation could not be
proved.  For, some interval of time (if the velocity be not equal to
infinite) must exist between the body of our Saviour being here, being in
France, being in America, and in a thousand other places, which is
contrary to Roman Catholic doctrine; which asserts, “that as long as the
species of bread and wine continues, so long does Christ exist in the
sacrament;” which words clearly prove, that our Saviour’s body is not to
leave the sacrament at any time, and, therefore, such a supposition of
quickness being attached to the body of Christ, is perfectly absurd and
contradictory to Roman Catholic doctrine.

Again, such a supposition of velocity or quickness equal to what they
would term almost infinite, is quite absurd.  For it is proved, from the
most natural deductions of the accelerated motion of moving bodies, “that
if each ray of light were equal to the two-millioneth part of the
smallest portion of sand we can form a conception of, that man could no
more stand before their effects, than before grape shot fired from the
mouth of a cannon.” {31}  If such then would be the effects of the rays
of the sun upon bodies, what would be the result of the bread upon the
Priest, if a million of times greater velocity would be imparted to that
bread?  Why, my friends, the effect would be tremendous—death would be
the immediate and necessary consequence to the priest officiating.
Therefore, such a supposition as that of “an almost infinite velocity,”
is absurd.

Such, my friends, are some of the reasons, which inspired by the spirit
of truth, have influenced my disbelief as to the doctrine of
Transubstantiation.  I know some of you will say it is difficult to
understand some of those reasons I have given on this subject; but
remember it is only the quibbling objections that are made in support of
this doctrine that are difficult to be understood, and not the answers I
have given, for I have endeavoured to make those answers as plain as
possible to the capacity of each.  I will now proceed to these Scriptural
arguments which confirm me in the disbelief as to your doctrine of
Transubstantiation.



THIRD PART.


But, my friends, before I enter upon these Scriptural arguments, allow me
to remind you of one important circumstance.  Do you remember some time
ago how anxious your Bishops and Clergy were in preventing the diffusion
of the Gospel light among the people of Ireland?  Do you remember how all
their energies were directed against those Missionaries who so
indefatigably struggled for the circulation of the Bible among you?
Well, my friends, I am now happy to inform you that the times are quite
altered—“_tempora mutantur & nos cum illis mutamur_.”  But as some of you
may not understand the meaning of those words I will translate them for
you—that is, “the times are changed and we are changed in them;” for your
Bishops have lately resolved that a cheap edition of the Bible should be
published for your instruction.  With mine own hands I circulated some of
those Bibles among you.  I hope you will now avail yourselves of such an
opportunity, and that you will look to your Bibles for those arguments to
which I will now refer you.  Let you remember that these words are not
mine, but the words of eternal life.  They are to be found in your own
Bibles.  Let you therefore consider them diligently.  I will not confuse
your minds by a reference to many texts of Scripture, but shall only
introduce those which I consider as essentially necessary upon the
subject of Transubstantiation; which means (as I have mentioned before)
the transubstantiating, or what is the same, the changing, during the
time of mass, of the bread into the body and the wine into the blood of
Christ.

You assert that the sacrifice of the mass is the same as the sacrifice at
the last supper; and you also say that the sacrifice at the last supper
is the same propitiatory sacrifice as that offered upon the cross, with
this exception, that the sacrifice upon the cross was a bloody one, but
the sacrifice at the last supper was an unbloody and mystical sacrifice.

Now, my friends, look to all those passages in your Bible which describe
the last supper—look to Luke the 22d chap.—look to Mark the 14th
chap.—look to Matthew the 26th chap.—look to the 1st Corinthians the 11th
chap, and in all these places you will not find a single word about a
mystical and unbloody sacrifice at the last supper.  No, for these are
words of what I might call a self-accommodating distinction—formerly
introduced by the selfish views of man—they are quite unscriptural, and
therefore unworthy of our belief upon so important an occasion.

I will now show you there was no propitiatory sacrifice at the last
supper, and consequently that there is no propitiatory sacrifice at your
masses, for you assert that the sacrifice at the mass and the sacrifice
at the last supper are the same.

It is mentioned in Leviticus, 17th chap, and 11th verse, “for it is the
blood that maketh atonement for the soul.”  Now this in the old law is
confirmed by the words of St. Paul in the new law, as may be seen in the
9th chap, and 22d verse of the Hebrews, where it is said, “and without
shedding of blood there is no remission.”  Therefore there was no
propitiatory sacrifice at the last supper, or what is the same, no
sacrifice for the remission of sins, for you Roman Catholics admit, that
the sacrifice at the last supper was an unbloody sacrifice, and therefore
there is no sacrifice at the mass, since the supposed sacrifice at the
last supper and the supposed sacrifice of the mass are considered the
same.

Again I assert, there was no sacrifice at the last supper, for St. Paul
says in the 7th chap, and 27th verse of the Hebrews, “Who needeth not
daily as those High Priests to offer up sacrifices—for this he did once.”
Therefore if he sacrificed himself but once, it is evident there was no
sacrifice at the last supper.  Again, it is said in the 10th chap. and
12th verse of the same Epistle, “But this man after he had offered one
sacrifice for sins, for ever sat down on the right hand of God.”  If
therefore our Saviour only offered one sacrifice, that was the sacrifice
of the cross, and certainly not the supposed sacrifice at the last
supper; and consequently there is no sacrifice at the mass, since, as I
mentioned before, Roman Catholics assert that the supposed sacrifice at
the last supper and that of the mass are the same.

Again I assert, there was no sacrifice at the last supper, for there was
no sacrificial act performed by our Saviour at the time, nor the
slightest intimation of a sacrificial act given, nor any of those
ceremonies which are connected with a sacrifice gone through at the time
by our Redeemer.  Our Saviour was simply at the table, surrounded by his
disciples.  No altar was at hand—no victim suffered—no blood was shed, as
Roman Catholics admit, nor was there any offering made but a simple
distribution of bread and wine made among the apostles; and I believe you
must allow, that you had never heard or read of a sacrifice without some
of those appendages of either an altar, the suffering of a victim, the
shedding of blood, or an offering being made on the occasion, none of
which were witnessed at the last supper.  Therefore there was no
sacrifice at the last supper.

Finally, I assert, there was no sacrifice at the last supper; for if the
sacrifice at the last supper were the same propitiatory sacrifice as that
offered on the cross, I ask, in the language of candor and religion, what
was the utility of our Saviour going through the bitter ordeal of his
passion—why undergo the painful ceremony of being treacherously betrayed
with the signal of peace by one of his disciples—denied by another, and
abandoned by all in the hours of his affliction?  Why allow himself to be
dragged like a common malefactor from place to place—then to be clothed
in the garb of pretended loyalty, and afterwards to be greeted with all
the insulting gratulations of a mock king?  Why remain tied to a pillar,
there to be most cruelly scourged afterwards to be crowned with a diadem
of thorns?  Why undergo the pangs, the torments, the excruciating agonies
on the gibbet of a cross, and then seal with his blood the cause of man’s
redemption?  Why all these, if the sacrifice at the last supper were the
same propitiatory sacrifice for the remission of sins as the sacrifice on
the cross?  Oh, my friends, it has been, and is my firm conviction, that
if the sacrifice at the last supper were the same as the sacrifice on the
cross, it could not be blasphemous to assert that the sacrifice of the
cross was nugatory—was an act perfectly useless—was inconsistent with and
unbecoming the attributes of the Deity; and, therefore, I conclude there
was no sacrifice at the last supper, and consequently no sacrifice at the
mass, since, as I mentioned before, the supposed sacrifice at the last
supper and that of the mass are the same in your opinion.

I know that Roman Catholics assert, that there is nothing hard or
impossible to God, and that, therefore, our Saviour could give his body
and his blood to his Apostles at the last supper.

Now, my friends, this assertion is perfectly incorrect; for there are
many things relatively impossible to God; when I say relatively, I mean
with relation to these laws which impose upon the Deity a moral and
voluntary restraint, which restraint he cannot transgress in accordance
with his divine attributes; and hence it is, that, owing to those laws,
God cannot cause a thing to exist and not to exist at the same time; nor
can he cause a part of any material body to be greater than the whole
substance of that body, that part and entire substance remaining in their
self-same, sensible, and evidently unchanged state.  But those two
unnatural suppositions must be credited, if we are to believe that our
Saviour gave his body and his blood to the Apostles at the last supper.
First, we should believe that he existed and did not exist at the same
time; existed, inasmuch as he gave himself to the Apostles, and did not
exist, inasmuch as the Apostles consumed his body by eating it, and all
this while he was sitting and conversing with them.  Therefore to
suppose, that our Saviour gave his body and his blood to the Apostles at
the last supper to be eaten by them would be to suppose, that he existed
and did not exist at the same time, which is absurd, and relatively
impossible on the part of God.

Secondly, should we suppose that our Saviour gave his body and blood to
his Apostles at the last supper, it would then follow that a part of his
body was greater than the entire of his body.

In order to shew this, I will not advert to those who would say, that our
Saviour had actually partaken of the bread which he had distributed among
the Apostles, and consequently made his mouth, which was only a part of
his body, to consume his entire body.  I will not dwell upon such an
assertion, but will come to one no less evident; and that is, if our
Saviour gave his body to be eaten by his Apostles at the last supper, it
would then follow that he grasped his entire body within the narrow
compass of his hand, and thus make his hand, which was only a part,
greater than his entire body, as the container must naturally be greater
than the contained; and all this to be done while that hand and body
remained in the self-same, sensible, and evidently unchanged form.  Oh,
repugnant words!  Oh, irreconcileable doctrine!  Oh, monstrous assertion!
How can a man slumber under such a belief?  How can he rest in the
consciousness of such an error?  Methinks that should an individual after
serious reflection tacitly submit to such an irrational belief, it would
be requisite that he should be invested by the Deity with faculties the
very reverse, of what he now enjoys; that he should possess a reason that
would reconcile truths that are intuitively evident with falsehoods that
are intuitively false; and which should unite principles that are
eternally true and immutably fixed, with those that imply self-destroying
contradictions.

I will give you another argument from the Scriptures, which tended to
confirm me in my disbelief as to the doctrine of Transubstantiation.
That my remarks upon this subject may be obvious to the capacity of each
of you, I refer you now to the 22d chapter of St. Luke, which is
explanatory of the institution of the sacrament at the last supper.  It
is said of our Saviour in the 19th and 20th verses of that chapter, “and
he took bread and gave thanks and brake it, and gave unto them, saying,
this is my body which is given for you; this do in remembrance of me.”
Likewise also the cup after supper, saying, “This cup is the New
Testament in my blood which is shed for you” 20th verse.  Now you Roman
Catholics assert, that the words in the 19th verse ought to be taken in
their literal sense, that is to say, that when our Saviour spoke these
things, “this is my body,” that he actually converted the bread into his
body and gave it to be eaten by his Apostles.

But if I can shew you many passages both in the Old and New Testament,
where the word _is_ must be taken in a figurative, sense.  I do not see
what is to prevent the word _is_ (in the passage alluded to) from being
also taken in a figurative sense.  But there are many passages in the Old
as well as the New Testament, where the word _is_ must be taken to
signify represent, or, what is the same, where it must be taken to
signify the figure or memorial of a thing.

First, you will find in the 17th chapter of Genesis where God speaking of
the circumcision says, in the 10th verse, “This is my covenant.”  Now the
circumcision was not transubstantiated into the covenant.  Therefore the
word _is_ in this passage must be taken in a figurative sense: that is,
to signify the figure or memorial of the covenant.

Look also to the 12th chapter of Exodus, where God after having spoken of
the lamb that was to be sacrificed in memorial of his passing over the
houses of the Israelites and his smiting all the first born in the houses
of the Egyptians, he says, as is mentioned in the 11th verse, “It is the
Lord’s Passover.”  Now the word _is_ in this passage must be taken to
signify represent, as the lamb could not be said to be transubstantiated
into the Passover.

There are also innumerable passages in the New Testament, where the word
_is_ must be taken to signify represent.  First, St. Paul, speaking of
the church, says, “it is the body of Christ.”  Here the word _is_ must be
taken to signify represent.  In the 13th chapter of Matthew, our Saviour
says, in the 37th verse—“He that soweth the good seed is the son of man.”
Again, in the 38th verse of same chapter he says, “the field is the
world;” and in the 39th verse of same chapter he says, “the harvest is
the end of the world;” and lastly, in Luke viii. 11, our Saviour says,
“the seed is the word of God.”  Now, as in all those passages the word
_is_ must be taken to signify represent, what is to prevent it being
taken in the same sense in Luke xxii. 19, where our Saviour said, “this
is my body?”—especially as in the following verse of the same chapter it
must be taken for represent, where our Saviour says, “This cup is the New
Testament;” for the cup was not transubstantiated into the New Testament,
as you must all admit; and therefore it is that I was led to consider
that the word _is_, in the 19th verse of the 22d chapter of Luke, should
be taken in a figurative sense; especially as in that same verse our
Saviour said, “Do this in remembrance of me.”  And finally, there is
nothing so common in our language as to make use of this word _is_ in the
sense of represent.  For example, let me suppose that on passing through
Sackville-street, in Dublin, and that a stranger on seeing Nelson’s
pillar would ask me, who is that?—I, immediately understanding him, would
say, that is Nelson: and certainly the word _is_, in those passages, must
be taken to signify represent; for which reason, also, I was led to
consider that the word _is_, in this passage of our Saviour, must be
taken to signify represent, when he said, “This is my body.”

I know, my friends, that in opposition to these passages to which I have
alluded, that you would introduce as an objection that passage in the
first of the Corinthians, xi. 27, where it is mentioned, “Wherefore,
whosoever shall eat this bread and drink this cup of the Lord unworthily,
shall be guilty of the body and blood of the Lord;” from which words you
would wish to prove that the Apostles believed the real body and blood of
Christ to be in the sacrament.

But, my friends, let you consider by whom and for what purpose the
sacrament was instituted, and then your surprise will not be excited at
the Apostle expressing himself in such strong language, although he would
not believe that the real body and blood of Christ were present in the
sacrament.  By whom was it instituted?  By Jesus Christ himself.  For
what purpose?  As a last bequest to mankind—as a remembrance of that
Jesus who left his throne of eternal justice to enter into the womb of a
virgin mother—that Jesus who was conceived and born in time—who, during
his mortal pilgrimage of thirty-three years, suffered all the extremities
of privation to which human nature could be subject—and who finally
placed the eternal seal of his blood upon the cause of man’s redemption.
Is it a wonder then, that the Apostle, though not believing the real body
and blood of Christ to be present, should have recourse to such strong
language against those who would violate the respect due to that
sacrament, which was to be a memorial of our Saviour, and which was to
shew forth the Lord’s death until he come?  Oh, my friends, if you or I
were in the same situation as the Apostle, we would recur to a similarity
of expression, to announce our horror to the wretch who would approach
with polluted heart so sanctified a memorial; for whoever would
disrespect such a sacrament, might be naturally said to be guilty of the
body and blood of Christ.

My friends, before I close this third part of my intended pamphlet, I
find it indispensably requisite to advert to that practice in your
church, by which the priests prevent you from receiving the wine in the
distribution of what they call their sacrament.

Now, my friends, this I consider not only to be a direct infringement
upon the words, but also a direct violation of the command of our
Saviour: for if the command of our Saviour, at the institution of the
sacrament, were more strict in one part than another, it was surely more
urgent with regard to the receiving of the wine; for it is said in Matth.
xxvi. 27, that our Saviour after having taken the cup, and having given
thanks, he gave it to his Apostles, saying, “Drink ye all of it;” and as
it is said in Mark xiv. 23, “They all drank of it.”  Now observe that
this word _all_ was not annexed to the eating of the bread, but only to
the drinking of the wine, which circumstance must prove to the reflecting
mind this important fact, that as our Saviour foresaw the abuse that in
course of time would be adopted in the Roman church, by withholding the
cup from the people, he has been therefore more urgent in his command as
to the reception of the wine, than he has been as to the reception of the
bread.

I am aware that your clergy have recourse to many stratagems in
explanation of this difficulty.  They say, that when you receive the
bread, you not only receive the body but also the blood of our Saviour,
and that therefore it is not requisite for you to receive the wine.

But, my friends, in answer to this I say, that if our Saviour, at his
last supper, intended to give to his Apostles, in the mere substance of
the bread, both his body and his blood, what was his utility in giving
his body and his blood a second time in the wine?  To do so would be an
act of supererogation—it would be an act of perfect uselessness, and
would be derogatory to the Redeemer in the institution of so important a
sacrament: and hence I considered that withholding the cup from the
people, is a direct infringement upon the words of our Saviour.

But your clergy also assert, that our Saviour, at his last supper,
addressed the Apostles as priests, and not as the laity, and that
therefore he made it incumbent only on the Apostles to receive the
sacrament under both kinds.  But, my friends, we read of no such
distinction made by our Saviour; and moreover, when he said, “drink ye
all of this,” he also added, “for this is my blood shed for many.”  Now
his blood was not shed for the Apostles alone, but also for the flock;
and hence I conclude, that the people should receive the wine as well as
the priests.

Again, my friends, if this passage, “drink ye all of this,” were directed
to the Apostles alone, why is it that the priests do not always receive
under both kinds; for I know that when they are not actually celebrating
the mass, they only receive the communion under one kind?  This seems a
perfect anomaly—especially as our Saviour drew no line of distinction
between a priest officiating and a priest communicating.

Finally, my friends, if these words, “drink ye all of this,” were
addressed to the Apostles alone as priests, then the people should at no
period of time have partaken of the cup.  But that the people did partake
of the cup is evident from the words of St. Paul in the 1st Corinthians,
11th chapter and 28th verse, where he says, “Let a man examine himself,
and so let him eat of that bread and drink of that cup;” which words of
the Apostle were addressed to all the Corinthians, and consequently
proving to us that the laity as well as the pastors, had partaken of the
sacrament under both kinds.  Popes Gellasius and Leo ordered the wine to
be taken by the people on their receiving the sacrament; {43} while it
was only in the fifteenth century, at the Council of Constance, that the
use of the wine was prevented.

I would then address myself to the heads of your church and say, why is
it that you who boast so much of the antiquity of your doctrines—the
antiquity of your religious institutions—you, who in the hours of
controversial difficulties fly to the traditions of your antients, as the
great props of your vacillating arguments—the last hopes of your
controversial safety—why you thus mutilate the traditions of
antiquity?—why depart from that practice as old as Christianity
itself?—why claim to yourselves a greater portion of wisdom than he who
has instituted, than he who has ordained, than he who has sanctioned such
a sacrament?—why infringe upon some of the most important words of a
Saviour?—why violate that last impressive command of a Redeemer, by
withholding from the people a right, which, if duly administered, must
prove highly beneficial to the receiver?  Equivocation may give an answer
to such interrogations, but cool and dispassionate reason will receive no
apology.



THE CONCLUSION.


My friends, there was a time when the dungeon or the scaffold would be
the temporary but certain award of these my humble efforts for religion—a
time when the most exquisite of tortures would follow a similar
announcement of principle—a time when the inquisitorial rack would either
extort a recantation of such sentiments, or point to some painful death
as a necessary consequence of their avowal—a time when the Papal arm had
wielded an ungovernable sway over the countries of Europe; and when
secular power was so entwined around the ecclesiastical diadem, that a
Pontiff’s nod might be once considered as a sufficient guarantee for the
deposition of a monarch—a time when a Pope Gregory the Seventh {44}
detained a Henry the Fourth, of Germany, for three days naked and fasting
at his gates, and suing for mercy and absolution—a time when in the days
of a Pope Innocent the Third {45a} the British crown had lain beneath the
feet of Papal authority; and when a John of England was forced to yield
obeisance to that edict which proclaimed absolution to a people from
their due allegiance to a monarch.  Yes, my friends, there was another
period of time when individuals, under the pretext of religion, and
under, if not the influence, at least the sanction of ecclesiastical
power, had frequent recourse to acts of punishment which no religious
creed should tolerate—a time when the manly and religious sentiments of a
Lord Cobham {45b} had enkindled for his body the fire of persecution; and
when the open avowal of a Ridley, a Hooper, a Cranmer, and a Latimer,
{45c} had impressed upon their brow the indelible sentence of religious
martyrdom.  But blessed be God for all things, those times are past, and
we now live in days when a more refined civilization has contracted the
unlawful stretch of Roman church authority, and when the intelligence of
mankind points out to a safer way for the glorious spirit of religious
toleration.

Yes, “old things are passing away, behold all things are becoming new.”
Even the narrow compass of your own days, furnishes to the reflecting
mind a proof of the comparative enlightenment of the times; and gives to
religious hope a more consoling assurance of a better futurity.  That
spell which kept your minds in unscriptural darkness, is now broken; for
your Bishops have at length come to the resolution of letting the Gospel
light among you.  A cheap edition of the Douay Bible has been lately
published for your particular instruction; and the Priest that would now
withhold it from your perusal must undoubtedly wish to make a traffic of
your ignorance.  The number of your holydays is curtailed—those days
which were often spent by some of you amid the scenes of drunken
reveries, or in the circles of lawless assemblages.  Your Saturday
abstinence, which the superstitious times of a Gregory the Seventh had
generated, is now abolished; all of which circumstances must form a
remarkable epoch in the discipline of the Roman Church.  The number of
your reserved cases is also diminished.  But here it may be requisite to
apprise some of my readers of the meaning which Roman credulity attaches
to the reservation of cases.  A reserved case is generally termed that
from which an ordinary confessor cannot absolve his penitent without a
special privilege from his Bishop.  Thus for instance, some time ago it
was a reserved case for any of you to hear instructions in a Protestant
house of worship.  I have known an instance when a respectable Roman
Catholic, who is now of considerable influence at the bar, was publicly
denounced from an altar, for the mere fact of attending a charity sermon
preached by a Protestant clergyman.  But, my friends, it seems that the
progress of years may divest crimes of their hideousness; and that this,
which was once reckoned a reserved case, may be now counted among the
number of your ordinary sins; for, I am now happy to inform you, that any
officiating curate or parish priest has obtained the supposed privilege
of absolving you from the imputed sin of receiving instruction.

I hope you will avail yourselves of whatever advantages the intelligence
of the times may afford: and that the narrow or selfish views of man will
no longer control you in the exercise of your judgment.  Remember that
“the word of God is fire tried,” and that it has ever courted
investigation, while falsehood has always shrunk from inquiry.  I know
there are many among the lay portion of Roman Catholics, who would
anxiously sever the link of their nominal adhesion to Roman doctrine, but
their fears of an after persecution prevent an avowed acknowledgment of
error.  But, my friends, remember that the troubles of this life are not
to be compared with the glory that awaits us in the next.  “For (as the
Apostle says) our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh
for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory.” {47a}  I pray
then, “That the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may
give unto you the spirit of wisdom and revelation in the knowledge of
him; that the eyes of your understanding being enlightened, ye may know
what is the hope of his calling” {47b}—and that ye may be strengthened to
say with me in the words of the Psalmist, “In God I will praise his word;
in God I have put my trust; I will not fear what flesh can do unto me.”
Psalms 56th chap. 4th verse.




FOOTNOTES.


{30}  See Hayes’s Sermon I.

{31}  See Nicholson’s Philosophy, vol. 1.

{43}  See Scheffmaker’s Polemical Catechism, translated by Coppinger, the
Roman Catholic Bishop of Cloyne.

{44}  In the eleventh century.

{45a}  In the thirteenth century.

{45b}  In the fifteenth century.

{45c}  In the sixteenth century.

{47a}  2 Cor. 4th chap. 17th verse.

{47b}  Ephes. 1st chap. 17–18 verses.