The missionary, instead of trying to point out the falsity of the comparison, wished to touch his conscience. “God,” he continued, “is holy, are you holy?”
“I am not,” replied the Brahmin, “I am doing many things that are wrong, and that I know to be wrong."
“How, then, can you say that you are God?"
“Oh!" said the Hindu, “I see that you need a little more intellect to be put into your head before you can argue with us. God is fire—fire is the purest element in creation; but if you throw dirt upon it, a bad odour will arise; this is not the fault of the fire, but of that which is thrown upon it. Thus God in me is perfectly pure, but he is surrounded by matter, (that is, by the material, corporeal body;) he does not desire sin, he hates it; the sin arises from matter."
It is often a shorter and surer way to answer these sophistical pantheists and transcendentalists with ridicule. To argue with them is an endless undertaking; a good-humoured cut at their pretensions is far more efficacious; and if it be a fair hit, will secure to yourself a hearing and the sympathy of the audience. Thus a missionary, when preaching, was met by a
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