ansed_ by alms and faith," [460:3] and of the martyr, by
his sufferings, "washing away his own iniquities." [460:4] We are told
that by baptism "we are cleansed from all our sins," and "regain that
Spirit of God which Adam received at his creation and lost by his
transgression." [460:5] "The pertinacious wickedness of the Devil," says
Cyprian, "has power _up to the saving water_, but in baptism he loses
all the poison of his wickedness." [460:6] The same writer insists upon
the necessity of _penance_, a species of discipline unknown to the
apostolic Church, and denounces, with terrible severity, those who
discouraged its performance. "By the deceitfulness of their lies," says
he, they interfere, "that _satisfaction_ be not given to God in His
anger..... All pains are taken that _sins be not expiated by due
satisfactions and lamentations,_ that wounds be not washed clean by
tears." [460:7] It may be said that some of these expressions are
rhetorical, and that those by whom they were employed did not mean to
deny the all-sufficiency of the Great Sacrifice; but had these fathers
clearly apprehended the doctrine of justification by faith in Christ,
they would have recoiled from the use of language so exceedingly
objectionable.

There are many who imagine that, had they lived in the days of
Tertullian or of Origen, they would have enjoyed spiritual advantages
far higher than any to which they have now access. But a more minute
acquaintance with the ecclesiastical history of the third century might
convince them that they have no reason to complain of their present
privileges. The amount of material light which surrounds us does not
depend on our proximity to the sun. When our planet is most remote from
its great luminary, we may bask in the splendour of his effulgence; and,
when it approaches nearer, we may be involved in thick darkness. So it
is with the Church. The amount of our religious knowledge does not
depend on our proximity to the days of primitive Christianity. The Bible
is the sun of the spiritual firmament; and this divine illuminator, like
the glorious orb of day, pours forth its light with equal brilliancy
from generation to generation. The Church may retire into "chambers of
imagery" erected by her own folly; and there, with the light shut out
from her, may sink into a slumber disturbed only, now and then, by some
dream of superstition; or, with the light still shining on her, her eye
may be dim or disordered,