But what was going on on board the Church Hulk all this time? The burning question of Church in danger was pushed aside, and high above everything else the voice of controversy could be heard arguing upon a matter of the deepest import to all the world. It was the question of eternal punishment, which, alas! can never be satisfactorily settled; as to whether the soul that dies in sin is surely for ever damned. The adventurous spirits who had started this rank and soul-destroying heresy of hope even beyond the grave were few in number. These seemed to have a beautiful faith, if an erroneous one, in God's unbounded mercy, which, overtaking the poor lost soul before it entered the gates of hell, might in some cases bring it back to the bright realms of eternal bliss. For so rank a heresy there was perhaps neither authority nor justification, and it did more honour to the hearts of the schismatics than it did credit to their understanding or learning; so it was thought. The majority of the disputants stuck, however, to the penal clause, which says that the soul that dies in sin shall surely perish. These fortified themselves behind ramparts built up of dogma and bound together with the strong and lasting cement of human passions. Over the battlements they hung out their banner, on which was emblazoned the words, "No Surrender." The little band were driven back and had to seek consolation in the thought that no matter what is said and done, God is the God of Mercy. Poor, poor soul, how heavily you are weighted. Given passions, and desires, and all kinds of forbidden fruit placed well within your reach, with a longing to taste. Pluck, and you are straightway handed over to the devil, to be flagellated, tortured, and burned everlastingly. So it is said. Ye priests, in the past, what a heaven and what a hell have ye made for human beings! See the father torn away from his fair-haired child and hurled headlong to the bottomless pit, where there is nothing but weeping and gnashing of teeth, and a fire that is never quenched. See the mother taken away from her erring son, and winged up to heaven with a bleeding, broken heart. See the sister with her loving arms twined round some lost brother's neck, and crying out in her anguish, "Lord! Lord! let me share his lot; let his misery be mine. Let me moisten his parched lips with my tears. Where he lies let me lie also." But the bitter parting has to come, and while one sobbing is taken to Heaven, the other is sent to Hell. In the dark clouds that superstition has hung over trembling humanity we see a little rift, as vivid in brightness as when the Heavens are cleft with lightning, and through the rent we see pale-faced Pity weeping for the loss of her children. CHAPTER XXXII.