Earlier text: The MillenniumThe Spices in God's Garden.
The true believer's heart is the “King's garden.” It is described in the Canticles as a “garden inclosed.” The orientals were accustomed to fence in their gardens with hedges of prickly shrubs; sometimes a stone wall was built, as in the case of the hallowed enclosure around Gethsemane. Outside the garden was often a barren waste. So is the believer's heart, kept apart from a world lying in wickedness. “Come out, and be ye separate, saith the Lord Almighty.” What are the products of this heart garden? The singer of Solomon's Song tells us that they are “pleasant fruits, with all trees of frankincense, myrrh, and aloes, with all the chief spices.” These spices are the graces of a Christian's soul. As spices were not native to the oriental garden, but were planted there, and required careful cultivation, so the fragrant graces of Christian character are not natural to the human heart. They do not spring spontaneously in any man before conversion. They are the blessed and beautiful results of regeneration. What a vast deal of watching and watering do they require! What constant need there is of that remarkable prayer, “Awake! O north wind, and come, thou south wind! Blow upon my garden, that the spices may flow out!” Look at the meaning of this prayer a moment. Its root is found in the fact that as delicious odors may lie latent in a spice-tree, so graces may lie unexercised and undeveloped in a Christian's heart. There is often a plant of profession; but from the cumberer of the ground there breathes forth no fragrance of holy affections or of godly deeds. As long as any member of Christ's church lives a hollow life of mere profession; as long as he labors to please himself, and not his Saviour; as long as he is grasping and self-seeking and self-indulgent and covetous, and a lover of pleasure more than a lover of God; so long there is no practical difference between a cinnamon bush and a Canada thistle. A church full of such professors, whether they swear by the Westminster Confession or by the Thirty-nine Articles, is only a patch of weeds. But even in genuine Christians there are latent graces which require to be drawn forth. And this prayer is for the coming of a “north wind” and of a “south wind,” that the fragrance of the soul's spices may flow out. Anything rather than a scentless, formal, fruitless religion. Let the north wind come, even though it be a cutting wind of conviction! Christians need to be convicted of sin as much as impenitent sinners. Peter was under conviction of sin when he went out into the garden to weep bitterly. Perhaps the Apostle Paul felt a terrible uprising of the “old Adam” when he wrote that tearful seventh chapter to the Romans. Dr. Beecher once told me that one of the most tremendous seasons of awakening he ever knew was in a theological seminary! The “north wind” of the Spirit's power was so keenly felt that students for the ministry gave up their “hopes,” cried for mercy, and dug down deeper for better foundations to rest on! The most powerful revivals in churches are those which bring professing Christians to repentance and tears, and to the cutting off of “right-hand” sins. Awake! O north wind of conviction, and blow upon our dull, odorless hearts, that the spices of penitence may flow out! Sometimes God sends severe blasts of trial upon his children to develop their graces. Just as torches burn most brightly when swung violently to and fro, just as the juniper plant smells the sweetest when flung into the flames, so the richest qualities of a Christian often come out under the north wind of suffering and adversity. Bruised hearts often emit the fragrance that God loveth to smell. Almost every true believer's experience contains the record of trials which were sent for the purpose of shaking the spice-tree. Who bears a cross prays oft and well,
Bruised herbs send forth the sweetest smell;
Were plants ne'er tossed by stormy wind,
The fragrant spices who would find? Trials are of no profit unless improved. We need the Spirit's work at no time more than in our hours of trial. A graceless heart is none the better after affliction. The same wind blows on the thistle-bush and on the spice-tree; but it is only one of them which gives out rich odors. Awake! O north wind, and come thou south! Blow upon my heart, that the perfumes of sweet grace may flow out! There are two winds mentioned in this beautiful prayer. God may send either or both as seemeth him good. He may send the north wind in conviction to bring us to repentance, or he may send the south wind of love to melt us into gratitude and holy joy. If we often require the sharp blast of trial to develop our graces, do we not also need the warm south breezes of his mercy? Do we not need the new sense of Christ's presence in our hearts and the joys of the Holy Ghost? Do we not need to be melted, yea, to be overpowered, by the love of Jesus? When I look into my own scanty little heart-garden, when I go into the prayer-meetings of my flock, and when I think how feeble are the spiritual influences we are shedding out upon the world, I am ready to cry out: “Awake! O north wind of the convicting spirit! Come, O south wind of melting, subduing love, and blow upon these odorless plants!” Every genuine revival of religion has a divine side and a human side. Every such revival is the gift of God; yet it is also the work of free agents—the quickened activity of good men and women. When the winds blow upon the cinnamon-bushes, it is from the bushes themselves that the odors flow out. The softest zephyrs cannot draw fragrance from a pig-weed. Faith is the gift of God; but it is also your act and mine. Love is kindled by contact with Christ; but we must come up close to him. The Holy Spirit may waft odors from a true Christian life; but the Christian must do the living. Dead trees yield no spices. What was the secret of the success and tremendous power of the apostolic church? Every tree was a bearing tree. Paul in his pulpit, Lydia in her cloth store, Dorcas with her needle, John amid his flock at Ephesus—each and all were “always abounding in the work of the Lord.” Brethren, how shall our spiritual gardens attain to such beauty and fragrance? There are three pithy answers. Let each one look well to the tillage of his own or her own heart. The measure of a Christian's power is the measure of that Christian's piety. Grace must be in the soul before it can come out of the soul. Secondly, be the Christian everywhere and always. When Jacob came into his father's presence, the odor of the barley-ground and the vineyard was in his garments; it was the “smell of the field which God had blessed.” So, wherever we go, let us carry the Spirit of Christ within us; then the spices will flow out. Finally, let us cry fervently, and frequently, and importunately, for the breath of the Holy Spirit. With one voice let us cry: “Awake! north wind, and come, thou south. Blow upon our garden!” Then shall there be a shaking-down of fruit from the branches, and the outflow of the sweet spices shall fill and perfume the atmosphere in which we dwell. ALLEGORY.—I observe that of all plants, God hath chosen the vine, a low plant that creeps upon the helpless wall; of all beasts, the soft and patient lamb; of all birds, the mild and guileless dove. Christ is the rose of the field and the lily of the valley. When God appeared to Moses, it was not in the lofty cedar, nor the sturdy oak, nor the spreading palm, but in a bush, a humble, slender, abject bush; as if he would by these elections check the conceited arrogance of man.—Cuyler. The Miracle of the Press.
In a speech in New York last week responding to a toast to “The Press,” Wm. Cullen Bryant said:— “I thank this company in the name of the journalists for the compliment just paid to their profession. I do not intend now to pronounce a eulogy on journalism. I can do that in my own journal at any time, but I wish to say a word or two by way of illustrating the convenience of a daily journal to some who are not journalists. You, Mr. President, and other gentlemen who have been heard and applauded this evening, have apparently spoken to a small company of guests in this dining-room. It is not so. Through the journals you have been speaking to thousands, perhaps to millions, and in a few hours those applauses will have been echoed over all the country. The busy agents of the press have taken down the utterances of your lips; while you are asleep, the record will be on its way in a thousand different directions, and with early light will be laid at thousands of doors. Let us go back to the time when there was no printing press, and of course no journals. When Cicero in ancient Rome launched his fiery invectives against Catiline and delivered his grand defense of the poet Archias, small indeed must have been the circle of those who had any conception of his eloquence. But let us suppose that by some inscrutable means a communication could have been established between the world of that day and the world of modern times, and that an accomplished reporter of our daily press and one of Hoe’s steam printing presses could have been quietly smuggled into the Rome of Cicero’s time. We will suppose the stenographer silently to take down in his manuscript those noble examples of ancient eloquence as they were uttered; we will suppose the steam press to perform its office. We will suppose the reporter early the next morning to visit the orator with copies of his oration. He might say to him, “Mr. Cicero”—for your genuine journalist is ever courteous, as is shown by some notable examples—“Mr. Cicero, here is your yesterday’s speech. You suppose that the manuscript in one of the pockets of your toga is the only copy of it in existence, but here you see are several others. Here are your exordium, your arguments, your illustrations, your peroration; and not only those, but here are all your figures of speech, your exclamations, your rounded sentences, your well chosen words, every one as they fell from your eloquent lips, with notes of the applause of the audience in their proper places. The boys are already hawking it in the streets; men are reading it in the wine-shops; the patricians are conning it at their breakfast tables; groups of plebeians are assembled in the forum, where one reads it aloud for the benefit of the rest. To-morrow they will have it at Parthenope and Baiæ, and in the northern cities of Italy; and it will soon be read in our colonies in Gaul, in Spain, and in Africa. Read for yourself!” What would Cicero have said to such a phenomenon? or, rather, what would he have thought, for we may suppose amazement to take away the power of speech? What could he have thought save that there was the interposition of some divinity—Apollo or Minerva—working a miracle to astonish mankind, and confound those who disbelieved in the gods?” A RICH man in the city lately died. Success had crowned his unwearied efforts, and it was well known that a large fortune was the result of a life spent in the accumulation of earthly good. He died in the morning, soon after the sun had risen, and all through the day that followed, men were commenting on the event: “He died rich.” “He amassed a handsome fortune.” “He was successful in business.” “He left a large property,” said one who was himself increased in goods. The reply of a poor man standing near, yet one rich in faith, seemed for the instant to startle him out of his worldly infatuation, “Yes, he had to!” Men may heap to themselves the wealth of worlds, and gather about them all earthly riches, but they must all come shoulder to shoulder in the march of life; lay down their armor, their burdens, and their treasures, at the tomb’s door, and together enter in to explore the mystery of that unseen state, within whose dark shadows so many have before them entered. There is but one thing a man can carry with him through the darkness of death. A hope of Heaven through the atoning blood of Jesus is that priceless treasure of which the grave cannot rob the soul, for it is not of the earth earthly, but a heavenly inheritance. There is work for all in the gospel field,
And, if the mind be willing,
The place for labor will stand revealed,
And the fruitage rich and the harvest yield
Will surely crown the tilling. The seed is the truth of the living Lord,
Each grain well worth the sowing;
Seed given to scatter and not to hoard,
To be sown in faith, for Jehovah's word
Insures, by pledge, its growing. The field is near us, the seed at hand,
And time its course is winging—
Go forth to labor, no longer stand;
The reapers' triumph will yet be grand,
Each one his full sheaves bringing— A glorious harvest of sinners won—
A harvest worth securing—
Rest for the toilers, their life work done—
Crowns for the victors, and near the throne,
Peace, joy, and life enduring. A YOUNG man had been preaching in the presence of a venerable divine, and after he had done, he went to the old minister, and said: “What do you think of my sermon?” “A very poor sermon, indeed,” said he. “A poor sermon?” said the young man; “it took me a long time to study it.” “Why, did you not think my explanation of the text a very good one?” “Oh! yes,” said the old preacher, “very good, indeed.” “Well, then, why do you say it is a poor sermon? Didn’t you think the metaphors were appropriate and the arguments conclusive?” “Yes; they were very good so far as that goes; but still it was a very poor sermon.” “Will you tell me why you think it a poor sermon?” “Because,” said he, “there was no Christ in it.” “Well,” said the young man, “Christ was not in the text; we are not to be preaching Christ always; we must preach what is in the text.” “Don’t you know, young man, that from every town, and every village, and every little hamlet, in England, wherever it may be, there is a road to London?” “Yes,” said the young man. “Ah!” said the old divine, “and so from every text in Scripture, there is a road to the metropolis of Scripture, that is, Christ. And, my dear brother, your business is, when you get a text, to say, ‘Now what is the road to Christ?’ and then preach a sermon running along the road to the great metropolis—Christ. And,” said he, “I have not yet found a text that has not a road to Christ in it. If I should, I would make one. I would go over hedge and ditch but I would get at my Master, for the sermon cannot do any good unless there is a savor of Christ in it.” A MISSIONARY sends us the following brief sketch of a scene that shows how dominant and deadly the spirit of caste still is at the South. We commend the faithfulness of our brother as we condemn the violence of the godless prejudice. When will God deliver this nation from this senseless and cruel spirit of caste? TALLADEGA, Oct. 28, 1870. An almost pure white, neatly dressed girl came into the first-class car, with a first-class ticket. She was ordered out, though half a dozen black girls were present holding shawls and children. As the other (smoking) car was full of drunken Southern gentlemen, who were yelling and swearing, she asked permission to stay because afraid for her life, and was refused. I remonstrated, saying that she was a teacher, and asking that as a friend she might remain. This not being granted, I said: “Then I will go with her.” We went, amid sneers and hisses, into the other car. The threats and open avowals to kill us were not few, and it required not only much faith in the Lord, but also much coolness and steadiness of nerve, to face down such a crowd of drunken, reckless men. We arrived at last, however, at Talladega, and stepped off amid threats and oaths. These are the same Ku Klux who killed Mr. Luke. But I shall live to praise the Lord for his care, love, and goodness. Yours truly, J. A. —Am. Missionary. A Picture of Intemperance.
By C. B.
PORTRAY the evils of intemperance if you can! He does not live who can tell the whole story of its woes. Exaggeration here is impossible. The fatigued fancy falters in its flight before it comes up to the fact. The mind's eye cannot take in the countless miseries of its motley train. No art can put into that picture shades darker than the truth. Put into such a picture every conceivable thing that is terrible or revolting; paint health in ruins, hope destroyed, affections crushed, prayer silenced; paint the chosen seats of parental cares, of filial piety, of brotherly love, of maternal devotion—all, all vacant; paint all the crimes of every stature and of every hue, from murder standing aghast over a grave which it has no means to cover, down to the mean deception, still confident of success; paint home a desert, and shame a tyrant, and poverty the legitimate child of vice in the community, and not its prolific mother; paint the dark valley of the shadow of death peopled with living slaves; paint a landscape with trees whose fruit is poison and whose shade is death, with mountain torrents tributary to an ocean whose very waves are fire; put in the most distant background the vanishing vision of a blessed past, and in the foreground the terrible certainty of an accursed future; paint prisons with doors that open inward; people the scene with men whose shattered forms are tenanted with tormented souls, with children upon whose lips no smile can ever play, and with women into whose cheeks furrows have been burnt by tears wrung by anguish from breaking hearts; paint such a picture, and when you are ready to show it, do not let in the rays of the heavenly sun, but illumine it with glares from the infernal fires, and still you will be bound to say that your terrible picture falls short of the truth!—C. B., in Golden Censer. LET parents talk much and talk well at home. A father who is habitually silent in his own house may be in many respects a wise man, but he is not wise in his silence. We sometimes see parents, who are the life of every company they enter, dull, silent, uninteresting, at home among their children. If they have not mental activity and mental stores sufficient for both, let them first provide for their own household. Ireland exports beef and wheat, and lives on potatoes; and they fare as poorly who reserve their social charms for companions abroad, and keep their dullness for home consumption. It is better to instruct children and make them happy at home than it is to charm strangers or amuse friends. A silent house is a dull place for young people—a place from which they will escape if they can. They will talk or think of being “shut up,” there; and the youth who does not love home is in danger.—Sel. A YOUNG soldier, going to his barrack-room to sleep for the first time, quietly knelt down to pray in the presence of his comrades. This act was a signal for a storm. Hisses, shouts, and whistling, filled the room with hideous noise. Belts were thrown at the kneeling soldier. One man leaped upon the bed, and shouted in his ear. But he was unmoved to the end of his prayer, when he arose and silently went to his repose. The next night, his comrades eagerly watched to see if he would dare to pray a second time. To their surprise, he again dropped on his knees, and they saluted him with the same noises as on the previous evening. He did not flinch, however. The third evening, he knelt down and prayed, regardless of their continued mocking and noise. On the fourth evening, the noise was less. On the fifth it was still less, and on the sixth, one of the soldiers exclaimed: “He stands fire, he stands fire; he’s genuine.” After that, no one disturbed him. He had overcome opposition—he had won respect.—Sel. In San Francisco, a young man in excellent circumstances, prosperously started in business, was tempted to take a ruinously large number of tickets in the Library drawing. He was so confident of his success that the reading of the list without any of his numbers therein, drove him stark mad. For days he wandered through the streets a gibbering idiot, telling of his luck in drawing the $100,000 prize. He is now in a lunatic asylum, where he sits, delightedly, day after day, counting over his imaginary gold. The Great Aim of Every Christian
GRACE to live from day to day an increasingly Christian life, without being inordinately anxious about the morrow; faith in Christ as the only and all-sufficient Saviour for us; and more success in imitating the example of Him who is Lord and Master, are, and must be, the great aim of every Christian; and if reached and realized, will prepare him equally for death and life. Are You Discouraged? Why?
In one of the familiar hymns which we so often sing, occur these words:— “Yet let nothing spoil your peace;
Christ shall also conquer these.”
This language is spoken of those “foes within” which so often “betray us into sin.” How will Christ conquer these? He will in the end, by an exertion of his own almighty power, destroy them, by destroying death and him that hath the power of death, that is the devil, the author of all those evil propensities by which men are drawn away and enticed. While it is a great source of encouragement to know that this will be so in the future, and the promise is one which is most precious and very full of comfort, its practical benefits, so far as they affect our present circumstances, are at best but indirect. The trouble we have with these foes is now; and the question with us is, is there any way in which they are conquered for us in the present tense? Yes, there is a sense in which Christ proposes to conquer these foes for us even now. He does not do this independently of any action on our part, but he conquers them by giving us the strength we need to overcome them. So while it is true that our inward foes are not conquered for us absolutely without our co-operation, while we cannot stand idly by and have them brought and thrown lifeless at our feet, it is nevertheless true that we are not required to prosecute this warfare at our own charges, nor to depend for final victory on our own strength. Our Lord has made provision for every emergency. He has arranged to supply every want, and told us to whom to apply in every time of need. Yet with all this we find some at times giving way to discouragement, and saying that they might as well give up the struggle; for they cannot accomplish the labor they have to perform, nor successfully prosecute the warfare in which they are engaged. If we had to depend on our own resources we might well feel and talk and act thus; but when we consider that all needed help is promised us from on high, this puts altogether a different complexion on the matter. With this fact in view those who yield to discouragement, and propose thereupon to cease their efforts to run the Christian race, do one of three things: They disbelieve the Lord’s promise to give them help when needed, or they insult his majesty by acting on the supposition that all the help he can impart is insufficient to meet the necessities of the case, or they despise their birthright by proclaiming that they care nothing for the object to be gained nor for the means by which to gain it. How is this treating the Lord? Take an illustration: A person of wealth and ability takes another person into his employ. He assigns him a certain piece of work to perform. He gives him at the outset minute instructions, and informs him that at certain stages of the work it will be necessary for him to incur considerable expense, and at other times it will be necessary to bring to bear great power in order to accomplish certain operations. But he tells him to come right to him whenever any expense is incurred, for he has ample funds, and will supply all that may be needed; and when power is demanded he has all the mechanical contrivances and other means necessary to furnish it, and will produce them as occasion requires. With matters thus arranged, the man commences the work. Soon he incurs some expense, and thrusts his hand into his own pockets and finds nothing to meet it. He comes to a hard place in the job, takes hold to exert what little strength he can, personally, and finds he can move nothing. Then he sits down and says, “I am discouraged. Here is expense that I cannot meet, and work to do that I am not able to perform. It’s no use trying. I will give it all up.” What would his employer think of such service? Would he not say to him somewhat sharply, “What do you mean? Did I not tell you to come to me whenever funds were required and I would furnish them? And did I not tell you that for all the hard places, I had the means to produce the necessary power, and would furnish them at call? Do you doubt my word? Do you distrust my ability to meet my pledges? If so, I prefer some other person in your place who will show me more confidence and respect.” Just in this way does every discouraged Christian treat the Lord. What right had the man in the illustration to become discouraged and treat his employer as he did? What right has the Christian to act exactly thus toward the Lord of glory? Our shortcomings and failures are owing to the fact that we try to meet the expense out of our own pocket, and carry on the work in our own strength. The fault is not with the Lord, nor with his plan. The plan is marked throughout with infinite wisdom, and the armory of Heaven is full of weapons, all placed at our disposal through the key of faith and the channel of prayer. Let there be no talk of discouragement nor of giving up the struggle. But let there be a going to the Fountain for life and vigor; let there be appeals to the Wise for wisdom, to the Strong for strength. The Lord has the means we need, even the gold tried in the fire; he has the clothing we must procure, the white raiment; he has the wisdom, the eyesalve with which he counsels us to anoint our eyes that we may see. With the Lord Jehovah is everlasting strength; and if we are his children, and work in the way he directs, that strength is ours. A WRITER in the Restitution of March 9, 1871, speaking of the law of the Sabbath says:— “But Sabbatarians now make this law the gospel, or its main feature, thereby annulling what Jesus and the twelve taught. This, to me, if there were no other reason, would be sufficient for its rejection. Whenever any church preaches any commandment, or many, for the gospel of the kingdom, then I know that they are not the people of God. Commandments are to be obeyed, not preached.” We beg this writer’s pardon, but he is entirely mistaken. We don’t preach law for gospel. No S. D. Adventist can be found who has done such a thing. We understand the distinction between them too well. It is somebody else who thus confounds the law and gospel; and we venture to suggest that if the writer will examine the matter with sufficient thoroughness, he will find the confusion lying nearer his own door than that of any one else. But how does the giving prominence to this law annul what Jesus and the twelve taught? We are not told. Christ said that he came not to destroy the law, that a jot or tittle should not pass from it so long as the heavens and the earth endured, and that we must exhibit better righteousness than the scribes and Pharisees, who though they strictly kept the law in letter, violated it in spirit; or in other words, that we must keep the commandments of God (the keeping of which is righteousness) not in letter only but in spirit also. And Paul anticipates the cheap logic and self-excusing policy of those who would seek to cover the neglect of duty by loudly crying up the value of faith, when with the authority of Heaven, he rebukes the course of those who “through faith” seek to “make void the law.” We somehow received the impression when first we read the New Testament, and that impression has been strengthened by every subsequent perusal, that repentance lay, at the foundation of the gospel blessings; that the first step of our return to the favor of God, was repentance. For the apostles taught the people to repent, believe, and be baptized; and Paul declares that he taught publicly to Jews and Greeks, the same law holding the Gentiles in this matter as the Jews, “repentance toward God and faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ.” Acts 20:21. But repentance signifies sins committed; and sins committed signify law broken; nothing more nor less. Take out the law and we cannot conceive of the gospel, inasmuch as there could be no such thing as “good news” of pardon to a person who had committed no offense, nor of salvation to those who had never forfeited life. Another point not a little remarkable is the ground on which our writer proposes to reject this law. Because Sabbatarians make a good deal of it, “this, to me,” says he, “if there were no other reason, would be sufficient for its rejection;” “which, the same,” as Bret Harte would say, we will acknowledge to be good reasoning when he will show us some directions in the Bible requiring us to observe law so long as people do not make anything of it, but instantly to reject it when they do. But it is not pleasant always to condemn. We prefer to commend whenever we can. Hence we will say that our author in the paragraph before us does manifest some acquaintance with the law of language, by strictly adhering to the figure of climax, and placing his most astounding proposition last: “Commandments,” he says, “are to be obeyed, not preached.” Indeed, indeed! So then, if we should discover that some binding obligation is for some cause disregarded by the people, we must not go forth and urge upon them a reform in regard to the law which they are breaking; all we can do, according to this proposition, is to go about and exhibit ourselves in the act of keeping it. But if we mistake not, Christ said something about doing and teaching those commandments which are a test of our righteousness; and he has attached to that work a very desirable promise, even to be called great in the kingdom of Heaven. How shall we account for such utterances as are contained in the paragraph quoted at the commencement of this article? Shall it be on the ground that rejection of the law brings down upon men the judgment of God in the form of mental imbecility? or is it that only persons of about that condition of mind take such a position?