Earlier text: THE END OF THE WICKEDPractical Thoughts on Scripture Subjects.
By John Nevins Andrews
OUR RECORD FOR THE JUDGMENT.
This is being made up day by day. How solemn is this thought. We are ourselves preparing the record out of which we shall be judged. We shall tremble when the books are opened. But why not act with fear and trembling now while the record is being made up. Now we have the decision in our own hands, but then it will have wholly passed out of our control. Then we shall have to abide the result of our own conduct. How ought we ever to tremble lest we sin against God! How ought we to review each day's proceedings to see if they be all right. How ought we to correct our conduct with the deepest solicitude and care, lest we go on with our sins uncorrected to the judgment. We cannot be too careful to make our record clean for the day of God. Surely this knowledge is of infinite value. Those who know Christ will be acknowledged by him at the great day. All other knowledge is comparatively of little account. To know him and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of his sufferings, we may with Paul gladly suffer the loss of all things. And those to whom the Saviour shall say, I never knew you, will be likely to estimate the knowledge of Christ of some value, when also it will be too late for them to acquaint themselves with him. Now it is possible for us to acquaint ourselves with him and be at peace. Let us not lightly esteem this most precious knowledge. When God gives light it is that we may obey and cherish it. If we do not follow it, we shall be left in darkness. Our only hope is that the rays of heavenly light will not leave us. If we do not disobey the heavenly instruction of the Spirit of God, we shall not be left in darkness. God pities us in our low estate, and is not willing that we should perish. Yet it is an easy thing to enter into the dark. How soon the light in us will expire when we fail to cherish it. And how sad the case of those who thus find themselves left in their own blindness and to the deceptions of the devil. The Spirit of God is all light, and the spirit of Satan is all darkness. What an awful condition we are in when we mistake the one for the other. “He that believeth shall not make haste.” Our work is urgent and time is short. Nevertheless we must always take time to consider with careful deliberation every question of importance that involves any just ground of doubt. It is our duty to know that every step is taken in God. But those who walk in a rash, hasty spirit, cannot stand in God's counsel, and will always be involving themselves in the snare of the devil. It is something that the grace of God will subdue in every one of us if we will drink into its peaceful and heavenly temper. It is the cause of many of the troubles now existing in the church everywhere. When we have fully died to self, we shall learn to live in the peaceful atmosphere of the Holy Spirit. It is easy to err from the right path. It is a work of pain and of time to return to the right. We may, by carelessness, wander far from God. But it will only be by carefulness and zeal and humiliation that we can return to the right. Let us beware of departing from God. It is not a light thing to do it, nor a small matter to recover from the evil when once we have fallen into it. It is easier to shun sin than to recover from its power. God gives us deep distress that we may be led to see our wrongs and repent. We are made to feel anguish of spirit, that we may realize our sinfulness in the sight of God. Pain is inflicted as a means of arousing us from carnal security. Thank God for anguish of spirit. Now let us act with deep humiliation in making genuine repentance of our sins. We may be sure that God sends our distress in mercy. But “he will not cast off forever;” “he doth not afflict willingly nor grieve the children of men.” The first thing in seeking God is to abase ourselves. Then we must reach out after him from the depths of our humiliation. God will help us when we do truly feel our need of him. We must be emptied of self; thus we may be filled with God. To have the understanding enlightened in regard to duty, and the conscience so thoroughly awake as to make one feel uneasy in the neglect of it, and yet to be surrounded with advisers wearing the name and title of Christians, who are continually urging further delay, is about as uncomfortable a position as a person of fervent piety needs to be placed in. To rebuke such advisers in the faithfulness of the gospel, and yet, at the same time, to behave towards them with becoming meekness, is not the easiest thing in the world. Nevertheless, the idea that we may postpone our obedience to God for a little season, notwithstanding our convictions, is not to be tolerated. Suppose, for example, that a person becomes convinced that it is his duty to observe the Sabbath of the Bible—the seventh day of the week. Forthwith he is assailed by his associates with the suggestion that he ought not to be in a hurry—that he ought to take plenty of time for consideration, at least a year. Plausible as such advice is, we offset it with a single passage of Scripture: “I thought on my ways, and turned my feet into thy testimonies; I made haste, and delayed not to keep thy commandments.” Ps. 119:59, 60. Here the psalmist testifies that he turned his feet to obedience, so soon as, by thinking on his ways, he found that he was walking astray. He made no delay about it; he did not go about to consult the wise men of the nation; he did not examine the writings of the rabbis and doctors to see if there was not some way of getting round the duty; he made haste to render obedience. But, now-a-days, as soon as a person's conscience begins to lash him for neglected duty, he is advised to be very careful about running too hastily. Well, we would not wish one to be too hasty; but on the other hand, it may be well to consider whether there is not such a thing as being too tardy. Conviction of duty is not to be trifled with. When any one does violence to his conviction he feels that he disobeys God; and such disobedience is sure to be followed by disastrous results. The voice of conscience grows more feeble, and (if the disobedience be persisted in) becomes, at length, hushed in silence. It may continue to reprove with regard to other duties, but with regard to that particular one, which has been made the object of willful neglect, it reproves no more. As a necessary consequence, the soul suffers the loss of all those blessings which obedience in that one thing would bring. Nor is this all. Conscience, having yielded to corruption in one instance, becomes ready to yield in another. Its sternness has been overcome, and it no longer guards the soul with that security which it had been wont to do. It is to the soul what the sense of modesty is to the female; and, as the female cannot allow her sense of delicacy to be trifled with without incurring the risk of a total loss of virtue, so the conscience cannot, in a single instance, be abused without incurring the danger of becoming “seared with a hot iron.” We will not undertake to say, that this is, in every case, the result; but we do say that there is great danger of it. We insist, therefore, that when one understands what is duty, he ought to lose no time in putting it in practice. Let him remember, too, that the wrath of God is revealed against those who hold the truth in unrighteousness.” Rom. 1:18. But the possibility that one may be mistaken as to his duty, is often urged as a reason for delay. There may be something in this, at least, it seems plausible. Generally, however, this objection is more specious than solid. At all events, it is so with regard to those things which are the subject of direct and unequivocal command. With regard to the Sabbath we have no hesitation in saying that it “savours of the wisdom that is earthly.” The object of those who urge it is to induce a deference to the views of those who have acquired great skill in explaining away the divine law. But we hold that however doubtful may be the teachings of Scripture with regard to such questions as are purely doctrinal, or however obscure the language in which its prophecies foretell coming events, with regard to the common practical duties of life the word of God is so plain that there is no need for a child to be mistaken. Were it otherwise it would be unsuited to the wants of mankind. For, inasmuch as every one must give an account for himself, and not another for him, it is necessary that each one should be able to decide his duty for himself. People of small intellectual capacity must be able to make this decision, as well as those of more expanded powers; and children as well as those of mature age. Hence duty must be revealed in very simple language. And how simple the language in which our duty to keep the holy Sabbath-day is revealed!—“Remember the Sabbath-day to keep it holy—the seventh day is the Sabbath.” Who can fail to understand it? What untutored peasant cannot comprehend it? What child does not perceive its meaning. The command to refrain from the adoration of images is not more plain. Yet, when a person of ordinary mental powers is convinced by it, and begins to think about rendering obedience, straightway he is admonished that he does not understand it, and that he would do well to consult some learned men, some spiritual rabbis or doctors of divinity, before taking any decided steps! And what do the learned doctors say, upon being consulted? Why, that it is the duty of men to keep holy the first day of the week. But how do they make it appear? Do they produce any precept from the Scripture, plain and unequivocal, like the fourth commandment? Not by any means. They can present nothing which is level to the comprehension of a child. Whatever they say on the subject, is entirely above the understanding of children, and entirely above the understanding of ignorant people. They talk about the magnitude of redemption, as compared with the work of creation; they have something to say about redemption being finished on the first day of the week by the resurrection of Christ from the dead; they lay a few theological propositions together and finally draw out the inference that the first day of the week is a holy day. But the plain, ordinary mind does not understand this. The child fails to comprehend it. It is true, he hardly dares to indulge the thought that the learned men may be mistaken; nevertheless he is puzzled, extremely puzzled, to understand it. Is not this conclusive proof, that no such duty is enjoined in the book of God? We cannot, therefore, subscribe to the idea, that a person must, in reference to the Sabbath, or in reference to any other plain command of Heaven, wait to consult friends and learned teachers, and the writings of fallible men, before rendering obedience. If God has spoken, “see that ye refuse not him that speaketh.” We do not believe that any one can begin to obey God too soon.—Amer. Sabbath Tract, No. 14. (Condensed from Review and Herald.) NEWBURYPORT.—Elder Canright reports as follows: “The last week has been one of much encouragement here. We have now been here nearly three weeks. The weather having become good, our audience has increased so that we now usually have from one hundred and fifty to two hundred out, and sometimes four hundred. Saturday evening we had a temperance meeting in the tent, conducted by the citizens of the place. This gave us a chance to take our position on that question. Yesterday we had our first Sabbath meeting. About twenty brethren and sisters came in from Ipswich, and others came from the city, making about seventy-five. Twenty-six testimonies were borne, and we had a good meeting. By a rising vote, nearly all present declared that they believed the seventh day to be the Sabbath. Then eight rose up, promising to observe that day. This we regard as a good beginning. There are many more for whom we have the strongest hopes.” PULASKI.—Some more have decided to observe the Sabbath, and the feeling is deeper than at any previous time. The last Sabbath meeting held was the best; and Sunday evening the tent was full, and large numbers sat in their carriages. GLENSDALE.—Meetings have now been held seven weeks in this place. Thirteen have pledged their word in public to keep the Sabbath. Most of them are heads of families. Many persons are under conviction, and some new ones arise for prayer every week. In connection with these meetings there has been quite a temperance revival. About fifty have signed the pledge. RAYMOND.—The interest was reported, July 16, to be greater than at any previous time since the meetings commenced in this place. The quarterly meeting was held in the tent, and well attended. One hundred and fifty brethren and friends were present at the nine A. M. Sabbath meeting. In the social meeting seventy-five stirring testimonies were given in about an hour. In the afternoon an appeal was made for those who wanted to seek the Lord to come forward. Thirty-two persons, manifesting deep feeling, responded. And the Spirit of God was felt in a wonderful manner throughout the entire congregation. But few of these persons who came forward had ever made a profession of religion. Twenty of the number rose for baptism. Brethren Whitney and Brown further report:— “Sunday morning load after load came in, till our sixty foot tent was literally filled, there being six hundred or more present. We had appointed to speak on baptism; but the crowd was such that we decided to present something more directly connected with our present work, and so spoke for more than an hour on the sealing work. During intermission the congregation, en masse, remained in the tent; and at two P. M. listened attentively for an hour on the change of the Sabbath. We have never witnessed better attention. The congregation was then dismissed, and candidates for baptism were examined. As we had not been able to present this subject, we recommended to several that their cases be postponed for one week that they might be better prepared to go forward in this duty. Fifteen persons united with the church. Repairing to the place of baptism, we found our entire congregations had preceded us. More than forty teams—mostly double—and over six hundred persons were in waiting. Perfect order prevailed, and we enjoyed a most beautiful scene. Fourteen were baptized. There will probably be eight or ten more to be baptized next Sunday. There are others deeply interested whom we hope to reach. We think the remarkably large attendance of yesterday, was the result, in a great measure, of the reports of the meetings in the local papers. THORNTON.—At the last Sabbath meeting held in this place several more took a decided stand to obey the truth. Twenty signed a covenant to keep the commandments of God and the faith of Jesus. Many have purchased books, and eleven trial subscribers have been received for our periodicals. PORT HURON.—The meetings in the tent at this place are increasing in interest. A goodly number have decided to obey the word, two have been baptized, and others will soon go forward in this ordinance. Brethren Lamson and Burnham report: “The average attendance during the past week has been about two hundred. There is still a great work to be done, as a large portion of the city has not been canvassed. In about two weeks we shall change our location to another part of the city. We were invited on Sunday afternoon to speak to the ‘Reform Club’ of the city. A large and popular audience assembled, including the mayor and principal citizens of the place. Had excellent freedom, and our work became better known. In the evening, our congregation was greatly increased.” LAKEVIEW.—Several discourses have been given upon the Sabbath question. The interest continues, and a goodly number have commenced to keep the Sabbath. Many others are almost decided to obey, and the whole community is stirred upon this question. LANCASTER.—Elder Sanborn has been in this place two weeks. Some are deeply interested, and it is hoped they will obey the truth. There has been some opposition to the doctrines advocated. One clergyman, whose church is across the street from the tent, preached very quietly Sunday evening on the Sabbath question. Said he, “There is no proof for Sunday-keeping; but the absence of proof that the apostles kept the seventh day is sufficient reason why we should keep the first day.” ELK HORN.—Elder Hanson writes: “Sabbath, July 16, was a good day for our Danish church in this place. God’s Spirit was in our midst and worked on every heart present. We called upon sinners to give their hearts to God, and to our joy ten responded who had never made a profession before. The next Sabbath, six of these were examined for baptism, and found worthy to unite with the church.” CHEROKEE.—Eight or ten were keeping the Sabbath in this place when Brethren Hart and Kilgore commenced labor here. Now there are twenty, eighteen of whom signed the covenant. As the tent has been removed, the First-day Adventists kindly grant the use of their house for the next Sabbath meeting. One of their ministers and three members have accepted the Sabbath and others are aroused to this subject and may yet obey. FRELFORD.—Elder A. C. Bourdeau writes:— “We gave sixteen lectures in this place and held some social meetings before we introduced the Sabbath question. Last Sunday morning Brother Owen gave the ‘Sabbath Poem’ from memory, before a large audience. In the afternoon we spoke on the importance of obeying, and then requested those who believe that the seventh day is the Sabbath which should be now kept to arise, and nearly one-half of the congregation arose. As a preacher went out, he said, ‘You can find anything in the Bible.’ We said, ‘No; the first-day Sabbath is not there.’ Souls are becoming converted to the truth, and persons who had never tried to serve the Lord take a part in our meeting.” CLEBURNE.—Elder R. M. Kilgore reports from this place as follows:— “Though it is very hot here during the day, the nights are pleasant. Our interest is good, and has so increased that we have had to increase the size of our tent and the seating capacity. I am now in the midst of the Sabbath question. The people listen attentively and are purchasing some books. They are kind and respectful and remember our temporal wants. “Yesterday, just as the people were assembling for the 3 P. M. meeting, a sudden gale came up from the south, and before we let the tent down, four section ropes were torn from the canvas their entire length, making a complete wreck of our new tent. A very heavy rain followed the gale, soaking everything. But the weather clearing off, we removed the wreck, prepared the seats, and spoke at night to a large audience, with the broad canopy of heaven for a covering. I never had better liberty in speaking, and the people never listened more attentively than on that occasion. We go to work to-day to repair the tent as best we can, and start again Wednesday evening.” THE son of Mr. Jeremy Lord, aged fourteen, was spending the afternoon with one of his young friends, and his stay was prolonged into the evening, during which some male friends of the family dropped in. The boys withdrew into the recess of the bay window, at the end of the room, and the men went on chatting about the most important matters of the day, politics, etc. Still apparently entertaining each other, the two boys yet kept their ears open, as boys will, and, taking their cue from the sentiments expressed by their elders, endorsed one or the other as they happened to agree with them. “Gentlemen, will you smoke?” asked Mr. Benedict, the host. A simultaneous “Thank you,” went round, and a smile of satisfaction lighted all faces but one. Not that he was gloomy, or a drawback on the rest, but his smile was not one of assent. A box of cigars was soon forthcoming, costly and fragrant, as the word goes. “Fine cigar,” said one, as he held it to his nose, before lighting. “What, Linton, you don’t smoke?” “I’m happy to say I do not,” was the firm rejoinder. “Well, now, you look like a smoking man, jolly, care free, and all that. I’m quite surprised,” said another. “We are hardly doing right, are we,” asked a rubicund-visaged man, who puffed away heartily “to smoke in the parlor? I condone that much to my wife’s dislike of the weed. She makes a great ado about the curtains, you know.” “For my part, that’s a matter I don’t trouble myself about,” said the host, broadly. “There’s no room in this house too good for me and my friends to smoke in. My wife has always understood that, and she yields, of course.” “But you don’t know how it chokes her,” said young Hal Benedict. “Yes, indeed, it gets all through the house, you know, and she almost always goes into aunt Nellie’s, when there are two or three smoking. There she goes now,” he added, as the front door shut. “Why, it’s absolutely driving her out of the house, isn’t it?” asked Johnny. “Too bad!” “Why don’t you smoke, Dalton?” queried one of the party. “Afraid of it? Given it up lately? It don’t agree with some constitutions.” “Well, if you want to know why I don’t smoke, friend Jay,” was the answer, “I will tell you, I respect my wife too much.” “Why, you don’t mean—” stammered his questioner. “I mean simply what I said. When I was married I was addicted to the use of cigars. I saw that the smoke annoyed her, though she behaved with the utmost good taste and forbearance, and I cut down my cigars so as to smoke only when going and returning from business. I then considered what my presence must be to a delicate and sensitive woman, with breath and clothes saturated with the odor, and I began to be disgusted with myself, so that I finally dropped the habit, and I can’t say I’m sorry.” “I shouldn’t be I know,” said another, admiringly. “I’m candid enough to own it, and I think your wife ought to be very much obliged to you.” “On the contrary, it is I who ought to be obliged to my wife,” said Mr. Dalton, while the host smoked on in silence, very red in the face, and evidently wincing under the reproof that was not meant. “I say that Dalton is a brick,” whispered young Benedict. “He’s splendid!” supplemented Johnny, who was thinking his own thoughts while the smoke was really getting too much for him and presently he took his leave. The next day Johnny was thoughtful, so quiet, indeed, that everybody noticed it, and in the evening, when his father lighted his pipe with its strong tobacco, Johnny seemed on thorns. “I can’t think that you don’t respect mother,” he blurted out, and then his face grew scarlet. “What do you mean?” asked his father, in a severe voice. “I say, what do you mean, sir?” “Because mother hates the smoke so; because it gets into the curtains and carpet—and—and because I heard Mr. Dalton last night give as a reason that he did not smoke that he respected his wife too much.” “Pshaw! Your mother don’t mind my smoking—do you mother?” he asked, jocularly, as his wife entered just then. “Well—I—I used to rather more than I do now. One can get accustomed to anything, I suppose, so I go on the principle that what can’t be cured must be endured.” “Nonsense! you know I could stop to-morrow if I wanted to,” he laughed. “But you won’t want to,” she said, softly. “I don’t know whether Johnny’s father gave up the weed. Most likely not; but if you want to see what really came of it, I will give you a peep at the following paper, written some years ago, and which happens to be in my possession.” “I, John Lord, of sound mind, do make, this first day of January, 1861, the following resolutions, which I pray God I may keep:— “First. I will not get married till I own a house, for I expect Uncle Henry Lake will give me one, one of these days, because my mother says he will. “Second. I will never swear, because it is silly as well as wicked. “Third. I will never smoke and so make myself disagreeable to everybody who comes near me, and I will always keep these words as my motto after I am married:— “I don’t smoke, because I respect my wife.” Mr. Dalton said that, and I will never forget it. Signed etc., etc.” And Johnny kept his word like a hero. Responsibility of Mothers.
How few mothers fully comprehend the responsibility of their position. To them a soul has been given to train for a higher existence. A pure soul! and if it becomes stained, blackened and withered, whose is the fault? Little sins, like little weeds, take root rapidly, and will grow and choke out the sweet blossoms of truth and innocency, unless, with never-failing earnestness and an unsparing hand, you sow the good seeds, and root out all the tendencies to sin and corruption. The little child’s soul may be likened to soft clay, and the characters which are engraved upon it must be daily retraced, with line upon line, until they become so indelible that nothing can ever efface them. Characters traced in water are instantly obliterated; those traced on clay sink into the yielding surface, but they require the aid of the graver’s tools to deepen the lines, else they, too, may be effaced. So we must do our work faithfully and thoroughly if we would rejoice when the harvest comes. Then we gather in our sheaves, fair or foul, according to the seed we sowed in youth. We sow in the morning of our lives, but we reap in our declining years—in pride and joy, or in utter wretchedness and woe. Daily the observant mother recognizes her own faults in her children. She sees developing in them her own selfishness, pride, resistance to restraint, uncharitableness to others’ failings and deceit. These sins crop out among the fair flowers of their innocence, and she beholds them with dismay and sorrow. Alas! these hydra-head serpents which have thrust their fangs into her heart, will now poison the sweet promise of her children’s lives unless she can strangle them before they have grown too strong. And, we would ask, what are the claims of society, compared to the holier claims which children have upon us? Years pass away with great rapidity after the third decade is gone, and before we realize it, our babies are men and women, ready to take an active part in the battle of life and to work for the kingdom of heaven, or for what? That is the question which is sometimes brought home to mothers with an agony exceeding any other that earth can give. The bells of the town hall in many large cities are tolled for lost children, and the solemn knell strikes terror into many a mother’s heart. But alas! if they were tolled for the children who are lost, utterly lost by the culpable neglect of parents, they would toll on and on, and their echoes would never be silent. Lost—yes, lost! lost in the dram-shops and saloons of nearly every town and village in our land—lost in the dens of iniquity—lost in the prisons of every State? Terrible are the records of sin! woeful the annals of crime! and yet where can we trace239 them but to the neglect of proper guidance and discipline in childhood—to the influence of the bad example of parents? Our boys are led astray, they sin and continue to sin. If we can forgive the first offenses and lead the offender back to the paths of right, well for him and for us. But if we throw him off, if we upbraid and threaten him continually, then we surely drive him to the bitter end. Mothers, who groan over your work, whose nights are sleepless, and whose nerves are racked and taxed, seemingly to the utmost, think on these things! “As ye sow, so shall ye reap.” Truer words are not to be found in Holy Writ. If irritable speeches, cross looks and passionate rebuffs are the seed you sow now, be sure that the harvest will be of the same bitter nature. But if self is put far out of sight; if throbbing pulses and aching nerves are soothed and stilled by thoughts of “One mighty to save, all powerful to succor,” of Him who bore the cross so meekly, and said, “Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of heaven,”—then, oh, then, the harvest will bring you fully ripened sheaves, whose fruit will make your age to rejoice, and be glad. But if you will not attend to the discipline of the souls given to your keeping, how can you expect that hirelings will do the work? For children will soon rebel against the government of servants, and the mother will exclaim— “Were there ever such children as mine? What shall I do with them?” Forgetful that “the parents have eaten sour grapes, and the children’s teeth are set on edge.” Can we wonder at the undisciplined state and sinfulness of many of the children of the present day, when their parents are so forgetful of their highest duty? How many daughters are lost in the giddy round of fashion—in idleness and selfishness forgetting the obligations to those who have toiled and watched for them from their infancy! And if they become wives, do they not continue in the same condition? Happy marriages and happy homes are among the sweet dreams of our youth, but how rarely do we enter into their possession! Experience, however, is our best earthly teacher; and God grant that it may teach many mothers to be more loving, considerate and unselfish!—Sel. DAUGHTER, don't let mother do it!
Do not let her slave and toil,
While you sit, a useless idler,
Fearing your soft hands to soil.
Don't you see the heavy burdens
Daily she is wont to bear,
Bring the lines upon her forehead—
Sprinkle silver in her hair? Daughter, don't let mother do it!
Do not let her bake and broil
Through the long, bright summer hours;
Share with her the heavy toil;
See, her eye has lost its brightness,
Faded from her cheek the glow,
And the step that once was buoyant
Now is feeble, weak and slow. Daughter, don't let mother do it!
She has cared for you so long,
Is it right the weak and feeble
Should be toiling for the strong?
Waken from your listless languor,
Seek her side to cheer and bless;
And your grief will be less bitter
When the sods above her press. Daughter, don't let mother do it!
You will never, never know
What were home without a mother
Till that mother lieth low—
Low beneath the budding daisies,
Free from earthly care or pain—
To the home so sad without her,
Never to return again. “My hands are so stiff I can hardly hold a pen,” said Farmer Wilbur, as he sat down to “figure out” some accounts that were getting behind hand. “Can I help you, father?” said Lucy, laying down her bright crochet work.—“I shall be glad to do so if you will explain what you want.” “Well, I shouldn’t wonder if you could, Lucy,” he said reflectively. “Pretty good at figures are you?” “It would be sad if I did not know something of them, after going twice through the arithmetic,” said Lucy, laughing. “Well, I can show you, in five minutes what I have to do, and it’ll be a wonderful help if you can do it for me. I never was a master hand at accounts in my best days, and it does not grow any easier since I put on spectacles.” Very patiently did the helpful daughter plod through the long lines of figures, leaving the gay worsted to lie idle all the evening, though she was in such haste to finish her scarf. It was reward enough to see her tired father, who had been toiling all day for himself and dear ones, sitting so cozily in his easy chair, enjoying his weekly paper. The clock struck nine before her task was over, but the hearty—“Thank you daughter, a thousand times,” took away all sense of weariness. “It’s rather looking up, where a man can have such an amanuensis,” said the father. “It’s not every farmer that can afford it.” “Not every farmer’s daughter that is capable of making one,” said the mother, with a little pardonable maternal pride. “Nor every one that would be willing, if able,” said Mr. Wilbur, which last was a sad truth. How many daughters might be of use to their fathers in this and many other ways, who never think of lightening a care or labor. If asked to perform some little service, it is done at best with a reluctant step and unwilling air that robs it of all sunshine or claim to gratitude. Girls, help your father! Give him a cheerful home to rest in when evening comes, and do not worry his life away by fretting because he cannot afford you all the luxuries you covet. Children exert as great an influence on their parents, as parents do on their children. The Disgrace of Pretending
It is no disgrace not to be able to do everything, but to undertake, or pretend to do, what you are not made for, is not only shameful, but extremely troublesome and vexatious. The coffin was a plain one,—a poor, miserable, pine coffin. No flowers on its top, no lining of rose-white satin for the pale brow; no smooth ribbons about the coarse shroud. The brown hair was laid decently back, but there was no crimped cap, with its neat tie beneath the chin. The sufferer from cruel poverty, smiled in her sleep. “I want to see my mother,” sobbed a poor child, as the city undertaker screwed down the top. “You can’t—get out of the way, boy! why don’t somebody take the brat?” “Only let me see her one minute,” cried the hapless, homeless orphan, clutching the side of the charity box, and as he gazed into that rough face, anguish tears streamed rapidly down the cheek on which no childish bloom ever lingered. Oh, it was pitiful to hear him cry, “Only once, let me see my mother only once!” Quickly and brutally the hard-hearted monster struck the boy away, so that he reeled with the blow. For a moment the boy stood panting with grief and rage; his blue eye distended, his lips sprang apart, a fire glittering through his tears, as he raised his puny arm, and with a most unchildish accent screamed, “When I’m a man, I’ll kill you for that!” There was a coffin and a heap of earth between the mother and the poor, forsaken child, and a monument stronger than granite, built in the boy’s heart to the memory of a heartless deed. The court-house was crowded to suffocation. “Does any one appear as this man’s counsel?” asked the judge. There was a silence when he finished, until with lips tightly pressed together, a look of strange intelligence, blended with haughty reserve upon his handsome features, a young man stepped forward with a firm tread and kindling eye, to plead for the erring and the friendless. He was a stranger, but from his first sentence there was silence. The splendor of his genius entranced and convinced. The man who could not find a friend was acquitted. “May God bless you, sir, I cannot.” “I want no thanks,” replied the stranger, with icy coldness. “I—I believe you are unknown to me.” “Man! I will refresh your memory. Twenty years ago you struck a broken-hearted boy away from his mother’s poor coffin. I was that poor, miserable boy.” “Have you rescued me, then, to take my life?” “No, I have a sweeter revenge; I have saved the life of a man whose brutal deed has rankled in my breast for twenty years. Go! and remember the tears of a friendless child.” The man bowed his head in shame, and went out from the presence of a magnanimity as grand to him as incomprehensible, and the noble young lawyer felt God’s smile in his soul. RELIGIOUS NEWS AND NOTES.
—The oldest Methodist minister in Ireland, Rev. John Nelson recently died, in the ninety-fourth year of his age. He was baptized by John Wesley, and was a friend of Dr. Adam Clarke, the renowned commentator. —The monument erected to the memory of P. P. Bliss, at Rome, Pa., was dedicated in the presence of over ten thousand people. Mr. Moody presided, Mr. Sankey led the singing, and the address on the occasion was delivered by the Rev. A. T. Pierson, of Detroit. —Mrs. Caroline Phelps Stoke, of New York, has founded a scholarship at Oberlin College for the benefit of young colored men who are educating themselves for missionary work in Western Africa. Its annual income will be sufficient, with the low cost of tuition and living at Oberlin, to pay over one-half the entire expenses of a student there. —Father Chiniquy's success in Montreal still continues. At a moderate estimate, at least 250 families have been brought under the influence of the gospel. Of the converts from Romanism, a large number applied for membership in the new church, and after a careful and minute examination of each applicant individually, 115 were received into fellowship. —Partial statistics of the number of additions to the churches in and around Boston begin to show us the results of the revival of last winter. In 112 Congregational churches have been received 2,554 new members by profession; sixty Baptist churches report 1,546 new members, and thirty-one Methodist churches report 769. —An exchange says that Chicago has a schooner named the “Glad Tidings,” which will do a work of evangelization on the lakes. The vessel cost $1,700. During her voyage various ports will be visited and meetings held. Bibles and other religious literature will be distributed. The voyage will probably extend as far as Lake Erie.