Christian, except when he yields to unbelief.  In fact, what would it avail even to become a second La Place after thirty years’ study, if in five and thirty years the Lord descended from heaven, snatched up all his saints to meet him, and burned to ashes all the works of the earth?  Then all the mathematician’s work would have perished, and he would grieve over his unwisdom, in laying up store which could not stand the fire of the Lord.  Clearly; if we are bound to act as though the end of all earthly concerns may come, “at cockcrowing or at midday,” then to work for distant earthly objects is the part of a fool or of an unbeliever.

I found a wonderful dulness in many persons on this important subject.  Wholly careless to ask what was the true apostolic doctrine, they insisted that “Death is to us practically the coming of the Lord,” and were amazed at my seeing so much emphasis in the other view.  This comes of the abominable selfishness preached as religion.  If I were to labour at some useful work for ten years,—­say, at clearing forest land, laying out a farm, and building a house,—­and were then to die, I should leave my work to my successors, and it would not be lost.  Some men work for higher, some for lower, earthly ends; ("in a great house there are many vessels, &c.;”) but all the results are valuable, if there is a chance of transmitting them to those who follow us.  But if all is to be very shortly burnt up, it is then folly to exert ourselves for such objects.  To the dead man, (it is said,) the cases are but one.  This is to the purpose, if self absorbs all our heart; away from the purpose, if we are to work for unselfish ends.

Nothing can be clearer, than that the New Testament is entirely pervaded by the doctrine,—­sometimes explicitly stated, sometimes unceremoniously assumed,—­that earthly things are very speedily to come to an end, and therefore are not worthy of our high affections and deep interest.  Hence, when thoroughly imbued with this persuasion, I looked with mournful pity on a great mind wasting its energies on any distant aim of this earth.  For a statesman to talk about providing for future generations, sounded to me as a melancholy avowal of unbelief.  To devote good talents to write history or investigate nature, was simple waste:  for at the Lord’s coming, history and science would no longer be learned by these feeble appliances of ours.  Thus an inevitable deduction from the doctrine of the apostles, was, that “we must work for speedy results only.”  Vitae summa brevis spem nos vetat inchoare longam.  I then accepted the doctrine, in profound obedience to the absolutely infallible system of precepts.  I now see that the falsity and mischief of the doctrine is one of the very many disproofs of the assumed, but unverified infallibility.  However, the hold which the apostolic belief then took of me, subjected my conscience to the exhortations of the Irish clergyman, whenever he inculcated that the highest Christian must necessarily decline the pursuit of science, knowledge, art, history,—­except so far as any of these things might be made useful tools for immediate spiritual results.