With Ephesus, forty miles from here, where was located another of the seven churches, the case was different.  The “candlestick” has been removed from Ephesus.  Her light has been put out.  Pilgrims, always prone to find prophecies in the Bible, and often where none exist, speak cheerfully and complacently of poor, ruined Ephesus as the victim of prophecy.  And yet there is no sentence that promises, without due qualification, the destruction of the city.  The words are: 

     “Remember, therefore, from whence thou art fallen, and repent, and
     do the first works; or else I will come unto thee quickly, and will
     remove thy candlestick out of his place, except thou repent.”

That is all; the other verses are singularly complimentary to Ephesus.  The threat is qualified.  There is no history to show that she did not repent.  But the cruelest habit the modern prophecy-savans have, is that one of coolly and arbitrarily fitting the prophetic shirt on to the wrong man.  They do it without regard to rhyme or reason.  Both the cases I have just mentioned are instances in point.  Those “prophecies” are distinctly leveled at the “churches of Ephesus, Smyrna,” etc., and yet the pilgrims invariably make them refer to the cities instead.  No crown of life is promised to the town of Smyrna and its commerce, but to the handful of Christians who formed its “church.”  If they were “faithful unto death,” they have their crown now—­but no amount of faithfulness and legal shrewdness combined could legitimately drag the city into a participation in the promises of the prophecy.  The stately language of the Bible refers to a crown of life whose lustre will reflect the day-beams of the endless ages of eternity, not the butterfly existence of a city built by men’s hands, which must pass to dust with the builders and be forgotten even in the mere handful of centuries vouchsafed to the solid world itself between its cradle and its grave.

The fashion of delving out fulfillments of prophecy where that prophecy consists of mere “ifs,” trenches upon the absurd.  Suppose, a thousand years from now, a malarious swamp builds itself up in the shallow harbor of Smyrna, or something else kills the town; and suppose, also, that within that time the swamp that has filled the renowned harbor of Ephesus and rendered her ancient site deadly and uninhabitable to-day, becomes hard and healthy ground; suppose the natural consequence ensues, to wit:  that Smyrna becomes a melancholy ruin, and Ephesus is rebuilt.  What would the prophecy-savans say?  They would coolly skip over our age of the world, and say:  “Smyrna was not faithful unto death, and so her crown of life was denied her; Ephesus repented, and lo! her candle-stick was not removed.  Behold these evidences!  How wonderful is prophecy!”