There we have the same mass, the same
priesthood, the same blessed sacrament and the same Faith, as in my own
little oratory at Stanfield. Go to Spain, Africa, Rome, India; wherever
Christ is preached; there is the Church as it is here--the City of Peace.
And as for you and your Church! with whom do you hold communion?"
This stung Anthony, and he answered impulsively.
"In Geneva and Frankfort, at least, there are folk who speak the same
divine tongue, as you call it, as we do; they and we are agreed in
matters of faith."
"Indeed," said Mr. Burton sharply, "then what becomes of your
Nationalism, and the varied temperaments that you told me God had made?"
Anthony bit his lip; he had overshot his mark. But the other swept on;
and as he talked began to step up and down the little room, in a kind of
rhapsody.
"Is it possible?" he cried, "that men should be so blind as to prefer the
little divided companies they name National Churches--all confusion and
denial--to that glorious kingdom that Christ bought with his own dear
blood, and has built upon Peter, against which the gates of hell shall
not prevail. Yes, I know it is a flattering and a pleasant thought that
this little nation should have her own Church; and it is humbling and
bitter that England should be called to submit to a foreign potentate in
the affairs of faith--Nay, cry they like the Jews of old, not Christ but
Barabbas--we will not have this Man to reign over us. And yet this is
God's will and not that.
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