I hope and trust the infinite, the eternal, and merciful and
I hope and trust the infinite, the eternal, and merciful and loving God. I worship Him and feel no guilt in my heart before him for what I am going to do.
Alex Campbell once uttered these solemn words: “I hope and trust the infinite, the eternal, and merciful and loving God. I worship Him and feel no guilt in my heart before him for what I am going to do.” In this declaration, the human soul stands revealed in its deepest struggle—the tension between divine trust and mortal action, between conscience and consequence. These words carry the gravity of one who, facing a decisive moment, sought refuge not in men, not in laws, but in the embrace of the infinite and eternal God. He found in that faith a shield against guilt, a justification for what his heart compelled him to undertake.
The origin of this statement belongs to the realm of conviction. Though Campbell may have spoken it within a personal, political, or even desperate act, the heart of the quote is timeless. Humanity has always sought assurance when stepping into the unknown or the forbidden. When we cannot rely on worldly approval, we lift our eyes to heaven, declaring that our Judge is not the crowd, but the Eternal. Campbell’s words remind us of the ancient truth: faith, when deep enough, frees the heart from guilt, even when the world raises its voice in condemnation.
The ancients knew this battle of conscience well. Recall Socrates, who, when condemned to death, declared that he obeyed a higher law than that of Athens. He drank the hemlock with peace, for he trusted not in man’s verdict but in the divine order. Likewise, Joan of Arc, standing before her accusers, proclaimed that her voices came from God, and that before Him she bore no guilt. Though burned by men, she was vindicated by history. In both tales, as in Campbell’s words, we see the same essence: when a soul is anchored in the merciful and loving God, it finds courage to act without shame, even in the face of earthly judgment.
This does not mean, however, that every act done in the name of faith is just. History also warns of zealots who, claiming God’s favor, committed cruelties. Thus the weight of Campbell’s statement lies not only in trust, but in sincerity: he spoke of a heart without guilt. True faith cannot be faked, nor can divine approval be claimed lightly. The ancients would say: the gods know the hearts of men, and the Eternal weighs intentions more than words. The lesson here is not to justify any action with God’s name, but to live so aligned with mercy and love that, when action must be taken, one’s conscience can stand unburdened.
From this, we learn that hope and trust are not passive states but active choices. To trust in the Eternal is to live without fear of man’s scorn. To hope in the Infinite is to find strength when all earthly supports crumble. And to worship with a heart free of guilt is to embrace integrity so fully that even in trial, peace remains. Campbell’s declaration shows us that when our actions are rooted in love, mercy, and sincerity, we need not carry the heavy chains of shame.
History gives us another lesson in the life of Mahatma Gandhi. When he chose nonviolent resistance against the might of the British Empire, he did so with a heart anchored in faith. The rulers called him criminal; the jails sought to break him. Yet Gandhi trusted in the eternal law of justice and mercy. Because he aligned his actions with truth and compassion, his heart bore no guilt, even though men condemned him. In the end, his legacy proved that trust in the divine can sustain a person against the mightiest powers of the world.
So let the lesson be clear: do not act lightly, but when you act, let it be with a conscience pure before the Eternal. Examine your heart: is it aligned with mercy, with love, with justice? If so, then move boldly, for guilt will not haunt you. If not, pause, and seek the higher way. For it is better to wait in silence than to act falsely in the name of God.
Thus Campbell’s words resound through time: “I hope and trust the infinite, the eternal, and merciful and loving God.” Let this be our compass. Trust in the Eternal, hope in the Infinite, live with mercy, and guard your heart so that guilt cannot enter. In this way, your actions—whether praised or condemned by the world—will stand as offerings to the Divine, and your life will be a testimony of courage, integrity, and faith.
MTLe Minh Thai
I find Campbell’s certainty in his relationship with God both admirable and concerning. It raises an important question: does total trust in divine mercy allow us to act without remorse, or does it merely help us cope with the guilt we feel later? How do we hold ourselves accountable for our actions, especially when they may be in conflict with both divine and human ethical standards?
MDminh dang
Campbell speaks to a very personal, profound belief in divine forgiveness, but this idea of being free from guilt is complex. How do we ensure that our actions align with our moral values while also trusting in God's mercy? Is there a risk that the absolution of guilt could lead to decisions that harm others? At what point do personal faith and the impact on others intersect in the decision-making process?
TLPhan tu lan
I find Campbell’s conviction about God’s mercy without guilt thought-provoking, but it makes me wonder: is there a danger in feeling absolved of guilt regardless of the action? Does this imply that we can act without considering the consequences or the feelings of others? How do we navigate the balance between trusting divine forgiveness and maintaining ethical accountability in our interactions with the world around us?
THThuy Hoang
Campbell's trust in God's mercy without guilt seems to reflect a strong, unshakable faith. But I can’t help but wonder: what if someone’s actions conflict with societal norms or laws? Shouldn’t faith and a sense of personal responsibility coexist? How much weight should we place on personal beliefs when deciding whether something is right or wrong, especially if others might be impacted by our actions?
THPHAM THI THU HA
This quote from Campbell raises interesting questions about the nature of faith and guilt. If someone feels completely at peace with their actions, knowing that their higher power forgives them, does that make their actions inherently justified? Or is there a deeper responsibility to assess the morality of those actions on our own, regardless of divine forgiveness? How do you reconcile personal actions with the concept of mercy and eternal love?