It is about three thousand years since the old Hebrew king, well versed in all the phases of mortal mind, after tasting of its pleasures, suffering its pains, and learning of its so-called wisdom, sat down and said, "Vanity of vanities, all is vanity," and, "There is no new thing under the sun." And in making this statement, Solomon voiced a great fact, for in deed and in truth there is nothing new. Mortal mind claims to be a creator; it pretends to originate and put forth something new, calling it real and good, when it is but a different phase of mortal thought, novel only to its own finite sense.
These attempts at creation are a useful lesson in proving the futility of any lesser power than the omnipotent Mind. Equally futile are the efforts of man, from a material standpoint, to explain the Science of Being—to show how we originated, why we are here, and our ultimate, destiny. Washington Irving wittily said, "Of the creation of the world we have a thousand contradictory accounts; and though a very satisfactory one is furnished us by divine revelation, yet every philosopher feels himself in honor bound to furnish us with a better." It is even so. Materialists, in various ingenious ways, have endeavored to explain it. Theologians have kept themselves busy in trying to reconcile the seeming contradictions of the Bible, the theories of natural science, and their ideas of a just, wise, and omnipotent God; and mortal mind has been groping blindly for the Truth amid deepening gloom. As Luke quaintly tells us, in speaking of Paul's visit to the Grecian capital, "For all the Athenians and strangers which were there spent their time in nothing else, but either to tell, or to hear some new thing," which is a concise statement of mortal man's search after wisdom.
The Truth-seekers of the first century were confronted in a measure by the same problems that exist to-day. They felt they were in darkness. They had a cold, lifeless religion, that bore no fruit. The traditions of the elders no longer satisfied them. In the graphic words of Jeremiah, they "looked for peace, but no good came; and for a time of health, and behold trouble." All seemed empty and void. In the midst of this gloom, like the Psalmist, their heart and their fiesh "cried out for the living God," and the call was heard and answered. From the despised city of Nazareth, there came one who had solved the problem of Being. He felt he had a mission, and it was to redeem the race of men. He said, "I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life," and even added, "No man cometh unto the Father but by me." He was tender, yet bold; pure, but charitable; meek, but mighty. He had the courage of his convictions, and feared not to tell men their faults. With all this, he had a wonderful power in healing the sick, reforming the sinner, and supplanting discord with harmony. He sought not the rich or learned, but rather chose his disciples from what seemed very unpromising material.
