^:-i>^f^&<:2^^^^^^^^^^^:^^:^;^^^^^^^ [(£ Entered according to act of Congress in the year 1882, BY C. H. KNAPP, In the office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. C. H. KNAPP & CO., rUBLISHERS, Wichita, Kansas. PREFACE ^ A In presenting this unpretending es- say to the public for the gratification of many friends, the author begs leave to : this brief note explanatory of the circumstan- ces that have called it forth. Having, for several years, looked and hoped for a complete translation of the New Testament, a de- cree of disappointment was felt by the author and his friends-the Oxford edition, of 1881, not filling our expectations ; but in looking over the public mind, but more especially the minds of those who did the work which must be biased by their various ^ligious parties, we could hardly expect them, in this age, to do much better than they have done ; for it will be admitted, by every thinking mind, that the mantle of darkness thrown over the world by the Roman Catholic apostacy still covers the minds of all those .f>^. , teachers whose churches spran; out of this old symbolic woman, and, perhaps, no man is yet en- "- i^^ tirely free from this great moral ^■^ and mental bondage. V^^Mr^ thl reader to the Z7th chapter of Revelations for a descrip- uon of this church and of those churches that sprang out of it, and which are teaching and practicing falsely, in order that he may more perlectly understand the subject under-consideration and the marginal notes accompanying the text of the following lines. ' r)r.h..thW Pravin- that, as the drop contributes to make up the waters of the globe, this little artiekmay contribute to what has been and will be said to press the world UP to the point when a ne^v and eomplete translation will be made and re- ceived • to the point when men will not ask 'What does our church teach ? but - Whai does the Bible say ?" and just be silent where the Bible does not speak ; to the friendsof a pure version this essay is effectionately dedicated 1 HE AU 1 HUK. Wichita, Kansas, Feb. i, i83t . The New Version. 4^iOD of the starry heavens attend, ||fep And all the vast expanse, ^^And witness, by my theme to all, That nothmg comes by chance ; That law the universe controls, All by Thy guiding hand ; That every sparrow fills its place And every grain of sand ; That every mortal rmis his race According to Thy vyill, And by th' freedom of Thy grace He chooses good or ill. Poor mortals, fated here to live. And fated, too, to die. There's nothing that I would not give To know the reason why. We see but one contin'ous round Complete in all its parts. Where joy, and sorrow too, are found- The ebbing of our hearts. THE NEW VERSION. Could we but tune the poet's lyre, And all our thoughts control, Fain would we set the world on fire To comprehend the whole. I place myself in days of yore, And stand in Luther's mi<^hty stead, While dark the moral billows roar, A fearful tempest overhead. The stream of time is sweeping by ; Her waters, see ! are deep and dark ! I hear ten million voices cry. The sword of Rome hath pierced my heart ! A woman,* such as she, is proud. And ne'er embraces honest men. She veils her childrent with a cloud, And will not own her daughters;]; then. In childhood 's|| bright hour I stood on the banks of a stream, And thoughtlessly plucked a gay flower, As homeward I tripped o'er the green. Gay as a lark, As Light as the air. Free as a hart From sorrow and care. Thus the reformers Who had come out of Rome, *Chureh. tMembers of her chureh. i The churches that sprang out of the Roman Catholic apostacy. ||At the first the Reformation under Lutlier started out with bright hopes, but soon ran into a sj-stem resembling Papacy in many respects, and many would have returned to the old mother church if they had not committed themselves and been cursed by the bulls of the Roman Pontifl". THE NEW YEKSION. Just followed the paths Where their mother had gone ; But many in heart Returned to their home Thus only in part We express their sad moan. Mother,— O, my mother 1 The pangs that pierce my soul- There surely is no other Who can my heart control. Her gentle hand it stroked my brow, Cold wintry nights she tucked my bed. Oh, can it be that even now That mother's form lies cold and dead ! Though many years have passed away Since mother's lips^- have pressed my brow. And I, in turn, am growing gray— There's sweetness e'en in mother's frown. f Is it true ? Can it be That in looking to Jesus Poor mortals can see ! Or is it delusion Presented by men ? As the woman suspected * 'Twas gold in the hen. Does it give to me spirit? Does it give to me brain ? Or what is there in it To lessen my pain ? whh the old Catholic mother. THE NEW VERSION. A phantom believed Gives present relief ; But when undeceived, It adds to our grief. Many years have been spent In th' midst of this strife, With a purpose intent To live for this life. This life in the future, From, th' which we are taugin There is no departure : What a gem ! What a thought ! And giving to reason The balance of power, We conclude that man Was not made for an hour. So we find the book. Whether fable or true, Directs where we look Bob I. * — and you Can see that the aim Is most noble and grand, For all of its claim Is to elevate man. But whether it's human, Or whether divine, — RoT'eri Ingersoll, of Illinois. THE NEW VERSION, If you're a true man You'll have the same mind. But all of your efforts, If the Book is divine, Will tend just to open The eyes of the blind. To clear away rubbish, To scatter the mist, To rouse up the sluggish Who never should rest. Do you see that old fiddle ? We'll go to the dance; Whatever the tune, Like horses we'll prance. Why, is this a book ? Or is it a fiddle.? No wonder men look. And call it a riddle. But stop, there's something in this matter ; A sort of inspiration hue ; For God himself is in the clatter, And fiddles ev'ry tune for you. Luther fiddled for the Pope, While inspiration rose. Tetzel followed with a rope To bring it to a close. The Holy See then felt the rage, By inspiration given, lO THE NEW VERSION. And vainly sought to send the sage From trouble off to heaven ; But Wesley now, with faith, conies in. And inspiration higher. We see the holy war begin With balls of holy fire. Spurgeon and Beecher on the train Are inspiration bent. And millions more, of lesser brain. Whom God hath called and sent. Sankey and Moody, too, are here, Running another train, Where Charles J. Guiteau lost cas fear And fired up his brain. Victoria Woodhull has the fire. And Tilton, he hath found it, And ev'ry one is called a liar Tho will not cling around it. Th' Oneida folks are all inspired. Of quite a holy kind, For when of one th