After this manner did Kiana reply to Olmedo. The words of the pagan were a prolific theme of reflection to him. In some things he found himself a scholar where he would have been a teacher. There was then a light even to the Gentiles. How vain was force, how wicked compulsion in matters of faith! Mankind all sought one common end, happiness here and hereafter. God had left none so blind as not to have glimmerings of truth. He would adjudge them according to their gifts, and not by an arbitrary rule of priestcraft. God’s laws were uniform and universal. All creation was penetrated with their essence. Sin brought its own punishment, and virtue its own reward, whether within or without the pale of the church. Was the Roman Church, after all, but _one_ form of religious expression? An imperfect one, too! At this thought he shuddered as the force of theological dogmas recoiled upon him. It was but a transient emotion. Truth was not so easily subdued. The idea flashed through his mind, “Does not pure religion diminish in proportion as a stony theology flourishes? Is not that a science of words and forms of man’s creation, destined gradually to pass away, as the kingdom of God, which is only of the Spirit, shall increase until all men are baptized into it through Love and not through Fear?”
Olmedo’s heart swelled at these thoughts. As he gazed upon the scene before him, so in harmony with the joyousness of nature, so penetrated with her beauty, so choral with her melodies, the mere scholastic theologian died from within him. His face lighted into a glow of thankfulness, that God had created Beauty, and given man senses to enjoy it. Was there any good thing of his to be refused? Was not every gift to be accepted with gratitude, and used to increase his enjoyment? Was not the rule _Use_, and the denial _Abuse_? Was not the immolation of correct instincts a sacrifice of self to Belial? Were not the heathen themselves reading a lesson to him from Nature’s Bible, wiser than those he had studied from the Law and the Prophets? There was opened to him a new revelation. Not of Rome! Not from Geneva! God’s world in all its fulness flowed in upon him. He was inspired with the thought. Out from his eyes as he stood erect and felt himself for once _wholly_ a man, there, shone a light that made those who looked upon him feel what it was for man to have been created in HIS IMAGE. But beware monk! Beware priest! There is either salvation or ruin in this! Salvation, if Duty holds the helm,—ruin if Desire seizes the post.