n would believe that, by a
public denial, he would peril the eternal salvation of his soul. It is
conceivable, and without any great effort of the mind, that millions
who don't believe in the Christian religion should openly say that they
did. In a country where religion is supposed to be in power--where it
has rewards for pretense, where it pays a premium upon hypocrisy, where
it at least is willing to purchase silence--it is easily conceivable
that millions pretend to believe what they do not. And yet I believe
it has been charged against myself, not only that I was insincere, but
that I took the side I am on for the sake of popularity; and the
audience tonight goes far toward justifying the accusation.

It gives me immense pleasure to say to this immense audience that
orthodox religion is dying out of the civilized world. It is a sick
man. It has been attacked with two diseases--softening of the brain
and ossification of the heart. It is a religion that no longer
satisfies the intelligence of this county; a religion that no longer
satisfies the brain; a religion against which the heart of every
civilized man and woman protests. It is a religion that gives hope
only to a few; a religion that puts a shadow upon the cradle; a
religion that wraps the coffin in darkness and fills the future of
mankind with flame and fear. It is a religion that I am going to do
what little I can while I live to destroy; and in its place I want
humanity, I want good-fellowship, I want a brain without a chain, I
want a religion that every good heart will cheerfully applaud.

We must remember that this is a world of progress, a world of change.
There is perpetual death and there is perpetual birth. By the grave of
the old forever stands youth and joy; and, when an old religion dies, a
better one is born. When we find out that an assertion is a falsehood,
a shining truth takes its place, and we need not fear the destruction
of the false. The more false we destroy the more room there will be
for the true. There was a time when the astrologer sought to read in
the stars the fate of men and nations. The astrologer has faded from
the world, but the astronomer has taken his place. There was a time
when the poor alchemist, bent and wrinkled and old, over his crucible,
endeavored to find some secret by which he could change the baser
metals into purest gold. The alchemist is gone; the chemist took his
place; and, although he finds nothing