I don't see that you are any better than a heathen.
I wish I were half as good as many heathens have been,--I said .-- Dying for a principle seems to me a higher degree of virtue than scolding for it; and the history of heathen races is full of instances where men have laid down their lives for the love of their kind, of their country, of truth, nay, even for simple manhood's sake, or to show their obedience or fidelity.

What would not such beings have done for the souls of men, for the Christian commonwealth, for the King of Kings, if they had lived in days of larger light?
Which seems to you nearest heaven, Socrates drinking his hemlock, Regulus going back to the enemy's camp, or that old New England divine sitting comfortably in his study and chuckling over his conceit of certain poor women, who had been burned to death in his own town, going "roaring out of one fire into another"?
I don't believe he said any such thing,--replied the Poor Relation.
It is hard to believe,--said I,--but it is true for all that.

In another hundred years it will be as incredible that men talked as we sometimes hear them now.
Pectus est quod facit theologum.

The heart makes the theologian.

Every race, every civilization, either has a new revelation of its own or a new interpretation of an old one.