“Truth forever on the scaffold, Wrong forever on the throne. Yet that scaffold sways the future, and, behind the dim unknown, Standeth God within the shadow, keeping watch above His own.” LOWELL “Take Heed!” We regret to be obliged to say that all are not meta- physicians, or Christian Scientists, who call themselves so. Charlatanism, fraud, and malice are getting into the ranks of the good and pure, sending forth a poison [15] more deadly than the upas-tree in the eastern archi- pelago. This evil obtains in the present false teaching and false practice of the Science of treating disease through Mind. The silent address of a mental malpractitioner can only be portrayed in these words of the apostle, [20] “whisperers,” and “the poison of asps is under their tongue.” Some of the mere puppets of the hour are playing only for money, and at a fearful stake. Others, from malice and envy, are working out the destinies of the [25] damned. But while the best, perverted, on the mortal plane may become the worst, let us not forget that the Lord reigns, and that this earth shall some time rejoice in His supreme rule,—that the tired watchmen on the [Page 369.] walls of Zion, and the true Christian Scientist at the foot [1] of the mount of revelation, shall look up with shouts and thanksgiving,—that God’s law, as in divine Science, shall be finally understood; and the gospel of glad tidings bring “on earth peace, good will toward men.” [5] The Cry Of Christmas-Tide Metaphysics, not physics, enables us to stand erect on sublime heights, surveying the immeasurable universe of Mind, peering into the cause which governs all effects, while we are strong in the unity of God and man. There [10] is “method” in the “madness” of this system,—since madness it seems to many onlookers. This method sits serene at the portals of the temple of thought, while the leaders of materialistic schools indulge in mad antics. Metaphysical healing seeks a wisdom that is [15] higher than a rhubarb tincture or an ipecacuanha pill. This method is devout enough to trust Christ more than it does drugs. Meekly we kneel at our Master’s feet, for even a crumb that falleth from his table. We are hungry for Love, [20] for the white-winged charity that heals and saves; we are tired of theoretic husks,—as tired as was the prodi- gal son of the carobs which he shared with the swine, to whom he fed that wholesome but unattractive food. Like him, we would find our Father’s house again— [25] the perfect and eternal Principle of man. We thirst for inspiring wine from the vine which our Father tends. We crave the privilege of saying to the sick, when their [Page 370.] feebleness calls for help, “Rise and walk.” We rejoice [1] to say, in the spirit of our Master, “Stretch forth thy hand, and be whole!”