Transcriber's Note
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THE
SYMPATHY OF RELIGIONS.
AN ADDRESS,
DELIVERED AT HORTICULTURAL HALL, BOSTON,
February 6, 1870.
BY
THOMAS WENTWORTH HIGGINSON.
BOSTON:
REPRINTED FROM THE RADICAL.
Office, 25 Bromfield Street.
1871.
THE
SYMPATHY OF RELIGIONS.
BY THOMAS WENTWORTH HIGGINSON.
Our true religious life begins when we discover that thereis an Inner Light, not infallible but invaluable, which“lighteth every man that cometh into the world.” Then we havesomething to steer by; and it is chiefly this, and not an anchor,that we need. The human soul, like any other noble vessel, wasnot built to be anchored, but to sail. An anchorage may, indeed,be at times a temporary need, in order to make some specialrepairs, or to take fresh cargo in; yet the natural destiny ofboth ship and soul is not the harbor, but the ocean; to cut witheven keel the vast and beautiful expanse; to pass from island onto island of more than Indian balm, or to continents fairer thanColumbus won; or, best of all, steering close to the wind, to extractmotive power from the greatest obstacles. Men must forgetthe eternity through which they have yet to sail, when theytalk of anchoring here upon this bank and shoal of time. Itwould be a tragedy to see the shipping of the world whiteningthe seas no more, and idly riding at anchor in Atlantic ports;but it would be more tragic to see a world of souls fascinatedinto a fatal repose and renouncing their destiny of motion.
And as with individuals, so with communities. The greathistoric religions of the world are not so many stranded hulks[Pg 2]left to perish. The best of them are all in motion. All overthe world the divine influence moves men. There is a sympathyin religions, and this sympathy is shown alike in theirorigin, their records, and their progress. Men are ceasing todisbelieve, and learning to believe more. I have worshiped inan Evangelical church when thousands rose to their feet at themotion of one hand. I have worshiped in a Roman Catholicchurch when the lifting of one finger broke the motionless multitudeinto twinkling motion, till the magic sign was made, andall was still once more. But I never for an instant have supposedthat this concentrated moment of devotion was more holyor more beautiful than when one cry from a minaret hushes aMohammedan city to prayer, or when, at sunset, the low invocation,“Oh! the gem in the lotus—oh! the gem in the lotus,”goes murmuring, like the cooing of many doves, across the vastsurface of Thibet. True, “the gem in the lotus” means nothingto us, but it means as much to the angels as “the Lamb of God,”for it is a symbol of aspiration.
Every year brings new knowledge of the religions of theworld, and every step in knowledge brings out the sympathy betweenthem. They all