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“I have peace offerings with me; this day have I paid my vows.” ― (The Strange Woman.)

How different the language of this strange woman from that of the Sister and Spouse of the Lord Jesus Christ, whose motto has ever been, “The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want.” - Psa. xxiii. 1. Zion has ever delighted in telling what her Lord has done for her. “He brought me up also out of an horrible pit, and miry clay, and established my goings, and he hath put a new song in my mouth, even praise to his name.” “He brought me to his banqueting house, and his banner over me was love.” “He is her refuge in distress, and a very present help in trouble.”

But not so with the strange woman. Her husband has gone a long journey, and has taken the bag of money with him, (as though he were a modern missionary,) and she is left to provide for herself; hence she is found, devoid of delicacy, in the streets at the twilight. She is loud and stubborn, and at every corner she seeks for lovers, and wishes with them to take her fill of love. She delights to tell of her own doings; for in truth she is a workmonger practically. She has decked her bed with tapestry, with carved works, and with fine linen of Egypt, (not of Zion.) She has paid her vows, and so of course she has peace offerings with her. Having by her industry, in the absence of the good man, rendered her house so inviting, by her peace offerings, her carved works, perfumed bed, and her fine linen of Egypt, she is now seen in the black and dark night; for her feet abide not in her house; she goeth forth a diligent seeker and as sure finder of her deluded proselyte. Among the young men she espieth one void of understanding; she flattereth him with her words, and with her fair speech she causeth him to yield, yea, she forces him. He goeth after her straightway, as an ox goeth to the slaughter, or as a fool to the correction of the stocks, till a dart strike through his liver, as a bird hasteneth to the snare, and knoweth not that it is for his life.

She telleth him that stolen waters are sweet, and bread eaten in secret is pleasant. But he knoweth not that the dead are there, and that her guests are in the depths of hell. She hath cast down many wounded, yea, many strong men have been slain by her. Her house is the way to hell, going down to the chambers of death.

Ye children of wisdom, tell us, is she not a daughter of her who sat upon a scarlet-colored beast, who made the nations of the earth drunk with the contents of her golden cup, whose name is called Mystery Babylon the Great, the Mother of Blarlots, and the Abominations of the Earth?

If Mystery Babylon, is written in legible characters on the forehead of Papal Rome, are not the features of the strange woman above described equally visible in her mystic daughter, the popular Protestant religionists of the present age? Hark ye! What do they say? We have peace offerings with us, alias, the means of grace, the issues from death, and means whereby to make our peace with God, and of saving our souls from hell, and of saving the souls of as many as we scan by our fair speech force to turn in with us. Do they not profess to have peace offerings with them when they undertake to reconcile the world to God, and when they upon the house-top proclaim that their benevolent institutions are efficient means of saving lost sinners. Do not the engineers of a Protracted Meeting, when they call their deluded dupes to the anxious benches, to participate in the efficacy of their intercession with the Lord, and when to encourage them to come, (or with their fair speech to force them,) they tell them that their compliance will advance them, one step at least, towards heaven. Do they not then declare that they have peace-offerings with them? Or when they declare that all that is necessary to establish their peace with God is to give their hearts to him, and that they have power to do this, do they not then say, We have peace-offerings with us? And when they have gone through the formalities of what is called getting religion, and have passed from the anxious bench to the submission chair, and into the church, do they not say, “This day I have paid my vows; I have given up my heart to God; I have received the healing virtues of the consecrated bench; I have joined all the benevolent societies, and what lack I yet?”

True, the popular religionists of the present time do profess to own Christ as their Husband. But it is equally true that they do virtually say that he has gone a long journey, and will return at the time appointed.

And that he has left her to supply herself with pastors, and arrange her house so as to render her accommodations inviting to those among the youths who are void of understanding; and having done all this, to go forth by her missionaries, agents, tract distributors, &c., to diligently seek for for lovers, or converts.

Reader, can you discern the analogy? Beware, then, for her house is the way to hell, going down to the chambers of death. The dead are there, and her guests are in the depths of hell.

April 2, 1834.

Elder Gilbert Beebe
Editorials Volume 1
Pages 131 – 133