At a meeting once both Colonel Robert Ingersoll and Henry Ward Beecher, an eloquent preacher, were present. The noted agnostic, had spoken at some length and had brilliantly set forth his agnostic views. "How," questioned those present, "would Beecher reply to these attacks on God's Word? Would he defend Christianity?”
Not a word did the old man say, but sat relaxed, as though quietly meditating.
At last Colonel Ingersoll remarked: "Mr. Beecher, have you nothing to say on this question?”
The old man slowly lifted himself from his attitude of contemplation. "Nothing! In fact, if you excuse me for changing the conversation, I will say that while you gentlemen were talking, my mind was bent on a most deplorable spectacle which I witnessed today.”
"What was it?" at once inquired Colonel Ingersoll. Notwithstanding his peculiar views of the hereafter, this scoffer was noted for his kindness of heart.
"Why," said Mr. Beecher, "as I was walking down town today, I saw a poor lame man walking with crutches. He was slowly and carefully picking his way through a veritable cesspool of mud, in the endeavor to cross the street.
"He had just reached the middle of the puddle of filth, when a big, burly ruffian, himself all bespattered, rushed up to him, jerked the crutches from under the unfortunate man, and left him sprawling and helpless in the pool of liquid dirt which almost engulfed him.”
"What a brute that was!" said the Colonel.
"What a brute he was," they all echoed.
"Yes," said the old man, rising from his chair and brushing back his long white hair. His eyes glittered with their old-time fire as he bent them on Ingersoll. "Yes, Colonel Ingersoll, and you are the man.”
"The human soul is lame, but the hope inherent in Christianity gives it crutches to enable it to pass along the highway of life, with a semblance of respectability. Your teaching knocks these crutches from under it and leaves it a helpless, sprawling, and rudderless wreck in the slough of despond.
"If robbing the human soul of its only support on this earth—the Word of God—be your profession, why, ply it to your heart's content. It requires an architect to plan and erect a building; an incendiary may reduce it almost instantly to ashes.”
The old man sat down. Silence brooded over the scene. Colonel Ingersoll realized that in Henry Ward Beecher he had found a master in his own power of illustration-and said nothing. The company took their hats and departed.
"The fool hath said in his heart, There is no God. They are corrupt, they have done abominable works, there is none that doeth good." Psa. 14:1; 53:11<<To the chief Musician, A Psalm of David.>> The fool hath said in his heart, There is no God. They are corrupt, they have done abominable works, there is none that doeth good. (Psalm 14:1)
1<<To the chief Musician upon Mahalath, Maschil, A Psalm of David.>> The fool hath said in his heart, There is no God. Corrupt are they, and have done abominable iniquity: there is none that doeth good. (Psalm 53:1).