Earlier text: COME TO JESUSMEETINGS IN RED ROCK AND PLEASANTVILLE, IOWA.
By M. Hull
It is impossible under present circumstances to give a definite report of the meetings at Red Rock, as unavoidable circumstances prevented my giving a full course of lectures at that place. But I can say that the result was as good as could have been expected under the circumstances. Several decided to keep all the commandments of God and the faith of Jesus, four of whom were baptized. The attendance was large considering the circumstances. It was remarked that these meetings were better attended than any ever held in Red Rock before. Two Disciple ministers attended and heard a part of my lectures. After hearing the discourse on Babylon, they told the congregation that it was truth, that it was almost impossible to tell the difference between the professors of Christianity and the world. One of the above named individuals staid and heard on the subject of the third message, and went away fully convinced that we had the truth. Praise the Lord for bringing his jewels out of Babylon. The truth is now bearing away the victory in Pleasantville, though these meetings, like the ones in Red Rock, were broken up too soon. Could the meetings have been held one week longer there would have been a large church raised in Pleasantville. I found prejudice very high there, the cry of "Mormon," "Millerite" &c., &c., greeting me everywhere; but prejudice was so far gone before I left, that notwithstanding the nights were dark and the roads muddy, there was not a house in Pleasantville large enough to hold the people. Twelve publicly declared their determination to keep the commandments of God and the faith of Jesus. Several others told me in private conversation that they never intended to violate the fourth commandment again. Others told me that this was the truth, but the whole world was going to perdition, and they would make the best of this world, and go the downward road too. May the Lord have mercy upon such, and give them to see that his commandments are imperative; that he has a right to command, and we have no right to reject. The Lord's cause was advanced somewhat by one Eld. Short, who came from Winterset, and attacked us upon the perpetuity of the law. His arguments were unsound to the core, and it did not take a great while to convince the people of the fact that error cannot stand the test. But if error cannot stand the tests which at present are being applied to it, how will it stand in the coming day? May the Lord help men to see that now is the time to have their errors torn from them. If this work is not done now, it will be done soon, and that in the presence of an assembled multitude. M. HULL. THE MEEK SHALL INHERIT THE EARTH.
By William Carthy
WHAT a glorious thought it is to the poor pilgrim who does not at the present time possess a spot of earth that he can call his own, that when the Lord shall come to reign he will receive a possession which can never be taken from him. It seems to be natural for mankind to love the earth, even in its present degenerate state. Although pestilence, famine and wars annually sweep their thousands from the earth; though what they pretend to call theirs to-day, may be taken from them before to-morrow; though pain and sickness may prey upon their bodies; still they love the earth, they cannot bear the thought of leaving it. Yes, it is very dear to them with all its sorrows, pain and disappointments. They consider their present life the only life that they can live upon their beloved earth, and not only the people of the world but some professors of religion have the same idea, that when they leave this world they never will return; and perhaps this is one great reason why professors of religion at the present time are so anxious about the things of earth. One might almost be led to think they expected to take their possessions with them. But to the humble follower of Christ, to that person who takes the word of God for the man of his counsel, who is willing to obey all of God's commandments, who is looking for the coming of his Lord with an anxious heart, (for he knows that when the Lord doth come his reward will be with him), a different scene presents itself. He knows according to the word of inspiration, that the Lord will soon appear; that then the trump of God will sound, the dead in Christ be raised immortal, the living saints be changed in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, and ascend with Christ to reign with him a thousand years; and that after the thousand years have ended the earth will be purified, the new Jerusalem will come down from above, and the earth ever after will be the glorious home of the saints. O what a blessed thought is this! It is enough to raise the drooping spirits of the weary pilgrim. Why should we feel to envy the rich? Why should we strive to lay up corruptible treasure here, when we have such a blessed hope that the kingdom will soon be ours; for our Lord has gone to receive the kingdom, and we know, if we are faithful servants while he is away, that when he appears we will become heirs with him, and receive a possession, an inheritance that is incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away. We do not guess at this. No, we have it from our Lord himself. It is one of the most important premises contained in that greatest of sermons, the sermon on the mount. "Blessed are the meek for they shall inherit the earth." There are several promises and several good qualifications which are necessary for the child of God to attain to, mentioned in the sermon on the mount; but they are all contained in this one verse, "Blessed are the meek for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are the poor in spirit for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." Undoubtedly our Lord had reference to that class of poor who were of a meek spirit; for if the poor are depraved, of a bad disposition and disobey God, they have no better right to the kingdom of heaven than the rich. Christ's kingdom is the kingdom of heaven, and when the will of God is done on earth as in heaven, then it will be the kingdom of heaven. "Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted." They that mourn in consequence of sin and wickedness, that are of a meek disposition; for29 "he that governeth his spirit is greater than he that taketh a city." They indeed will be comforted on the new earth; for there they shall mourn no more, and all tears shall be wiped away from their eyes. "Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled." If we are meek we shall be mild and gentle, easy to be entreated. This will lead us right into charity; and without charity we are nothing. If we possess these qualities we shall hunger and thirst after righteousness; and if so we shall indeed be filled when we inherit the earth; for the tree of life will be there, and we shall eat of its delicious fruit and hunger no more. "Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy." My friends, if you were to see a person unkind to man or beast, without charity, judging rashly, driving the poor, the naked and the hungry from his door, unclothed and unfed and without means to alleviate their distress, would you think that such a person possessed a soft and gentle disposition? Would you think such a person was meek? Ah, no! But only the meek or the merciful shall obtain mercy; for if we forgive others their trespasses, feed the hungry, clothe the naked, our Lord will also forgive our sins, and clothe and feed us in his kingdom; for he says that he will gird himself and serve us. "Blessed are the pure in heart for they shall see God." If our disposition is right and good, our hearts will also be good and pure. The true meaning of heart here is mind, disposition; for from the literal heart can proceed no sense of good or evil. But if the mind is pure, our thoughts will be pure; and if we are of a meek and pure disposition, we shall at last see God. We cannot now see him and live. But, *In his beauty we shall behold him there,
And bask in his smiling face.* May God help us all to have a meek and lowly disposition, that we may inherit the earth. We are almost there. Let us travel on without being weary, until we reach that celestial land. Little Prairie, Walworth Co., Wis. There is no passion so universal, or that steals into the heart so imperceptibly, and covers itself with so much disguise as pride, and yet at the same time there is not any single view of human nature, under its present condition, which is not sufficient to extinguish in us all the secret seeds of pride, and on the contrary, to sink the soul into the lowest depths of humility. He has most that covets least. A wise man wants little, because he desires not much. A wise man will desire no more than he can get justly, use soberly, distribute cheerfully, and live contentedly with. Other vices choose to be in the dark; only pride loves always to be seen in the light. Rather suffer wrong than enter into a law-suit; the first loss is generally the least. A being who has nothing to pardon in himself, may reward every man according to his works; but he whose very best actions must be seen with grains of allowance, cannot be too mild, moderate and forgiving; for this reason, among all the monstrous characters in human nature, there is none so odious, none indeed, so exquisitely ridiculous as that of a rigid, severe temper in a worthless man. Solon, being asked why among his personal laws there was none against personal affronts, answered, that he could not believe men so fantastical as to regard them. The great law of benevolence is perhaps violated oftener by envy than by interest. Interest can diffuse itself but to a narrow compass. But to spread suspicion, to invent calumnies, to propagate scandal, requires neither talents nor labor nor courage. Take heed that you harbor not that vice called envy, lest another's happiness be your torment, and God's blessing become your curse; virtue, corrupted with vain-glory, turns pride; pride poisoned with malice becomes envy. Join, therefore, humility with your virtue, and pride shall have no footing, nor envy find an entrance. If we well knew how little others enjoy, it would rescue the world from one sin—there would be no such thing as envy. If a jewel be right, no matter who says it is counterfeit; if my conscience tells me I am innocent, what do I care who tells the world I am guilty? There is an odious spirit in many persons, who are better pleased to detect a fault than to commend a virtue. When thou hast no observers, be afraid of thyself; that which you are afraid to do before others, be afraid to think of before God. In your worst estate hope; in the best, fear; but in all be circumspect. Discontent is the greatest weakness of a generous mind; for it is so intent upon its own unhappiness that it many times forgets its remedies. Hope will be your best antidote against all misfortune; and God's omnipotency an excellent mean to fix your soul. A good conscience seats the soul on a rich throne of lasting quiet, but horror waits upon a guilty soul. There is no greater instance of a weak and pusillanimous temper, than for a man to pass his whole life in opposition to his own sentiments, and not dare to be what he thinks he ought to be. Fear is implanted in us as a preservative from evil; but its duty, like that of other passions, is not to overbear reason, but to assist it; nor should it be suffered to tyrannize in the imagination, to raise phantoms of horror, or beset life with supernumerary distresses. A man cannot be happy here without a well-grounded hope of being happy hereafter. If some are refined like gold in the furnace of affliction, there are many more, like chaff, burned up in it. Sorrow, when it is excessive, takes away fervor from piety, vigor from action, health from the body, light from reason, and repose from the conscience. The best relief of anxious thoughts is the expectation of future happiness. It is the most perfect cure of melancholy, the guide of life, and the comfort of death. It is impossible to see the long scrolls in which every contract is included, with all their appendages of seals and attestations, without wondering at the depravity of those beings who must be restrained from violation of promise by such formal and public evidences, and precluded from equivocation and subterfuge, by such punctilious minuteness. Among all the satires to which folly and wickedness have given occasion, none is equally severe with a bond or a settlement. Ever with meekness and fear should the Christian give a reason for the hope that is in him; whether to the skeptic, denying Christ's power to save, or to his own conscience, in the inquiry respecting the integrity of his personal faith. Since godliness is in fact profitable unto all things, and self-deception ever too easy, the disciple cannot be too jealous lest he be following the Master for gain. But the godly jealousy may be perverted into a slavish fear. What means the custom long prevalent, of asking the candidate for admission to the church, whether he was willing to be damned—whether if divine justice should take its course, he could still praise and adore his Maker? Practically, the question was incongruous; for man was created and redeemed just in order that he might not die. But in theory it had its value, as implying that God is glorious in all his doings—ever adorable though one perish under his frown. But suppose a Christian, inquiring whether annihilation or eternal misery is the doctrine of God's word, asks himself which he would prefer? Failing to answer impulsively, as thousands have done, with a suffrage for immortality at all hazards, he is overwhelmed with the surpassing fearfulness of eternal misery. Perhaps in his terror he utters an involuntary prayer to be saved from such a doom. But why be startled, why shudder if there is no such anguish? Whence came there so fearful a thought? Does the conception imply a fact, or is it a creation of fear? And was the terror created by self-love, or by a sense of guilt? Has Christ redeemed him from such a penalty? What would be his feelings in view of such a salvation? And what would be his feelings if such should finally prove to be the penalty, or if he should finally fail of such a salvation? What wonder if the Christian should suspect some of his shudderings were quickened by a sense of guilt? or that his love of happiness partook too much of selfishness and sin? or if he should think it presumptuous to accredit the less fearful penalty? or if he should by a lofty effort of faith, accredit the more fearful penalty, and resolve to improve the view as best he could?30 Doubtless many noble minds have ended the dire conflict in one or the other of these ways; and the mental qualities which make their opinion worthless, give it special influence over the minds of others. But self-suspicion, in this grave question, may take one or two other forms. There are many who have not attained a full assurance of hope, and have not so felt conviction of sin as to reject all limitations of guilt. They have never thought of themselves as worthy of eternal suffering. If that be the penalty of God's law, they do not greatly fear it. If annihilation is not the penalty of sin, they are pretty sure of being saved at last. With them, to believe the worst is to hope the best. Others fear they shall yet fall under temptation, and fall of the grace of God. They need every possible motive to ensure their perseverance. To make the doom of the lost less dreadful would be to make temptation less fearful. They prefer the alarm of endless woe, lest they be found tampering with death. Thus many Christians, and multitudes who hope some time to become Christians, deprecate the abatement of any terror that may help them at the "convenient season." The most abandoned who yet retain their self-love, may even most earnestly desire manifold "powers of the world to come," to ensure their eternal enjoyment at last. It is like them to do so: the reckless are ever running heavy risks, hoping that the larger venture will more surely win the prize. Extremes meet; in contrast with this recklessness is offered the safe-side argument, which Christians are too prone to employ against the sceptic. Salat's question is often asked in this form: "If the soul may die, instead of suffering forever, what is man's gain in believing it? If the doom they fear is unreal, their belief of it does not make it true." Doubtless. Yet the truth of God should be preferred to error; and the postponement of it to supposed expediency, and to a make-belief, as it is a sign of the fall, so also we think it has helped the progress of error in this great question.—Debt and Grace, by C. F. Hudson. Meetings in Cascade, Wis.
By WM. RUSSELL.
Bro. SMITH: The cause of present truth is still onward, sinners are being converted to God, and I long for the time to come when the third angel's message shall go forth with a loud cry, which time I believe is near at hand. There is an anxious desire every where, and especially where they have not heard, to hear the glorious proclamation of the coming and kingdom of Christ. I have been with Bro. T. M. Steward a part of the time when he was holding meetings in Cascade, Adams Co., Wis., where there has been considerable interest awakened, both in the village and vicinity, to hear the third angel's message. Previous to the lectures there the people had become very indifferent in regard to religion, and some had settled down with their minds shrouded in darkness; but since then the scales have fallen from their eyes, especially of those who did not try to prevent their falling. The truth has put a new spirit within them, so that they are searching the Bible to see if these things are so. And blessed be the name of the Lord, it has put a new song into some of their mouths, even praise to his holy name. Ten have decided to keep the Sabbath of the Lord. May the Lord give them grace and strength to overcome the beast and his image, and be among those that shall be sealed with the seal of the living God, and enter into the holy city. While there, there were several urgent calls from persons in different places, to have the same words spoken to them; but on account of the approaching winter Bro. Steward was compelled to return home to fit up his dwelling for the protection of his family, leaving many poor souls hungering and thirsting for the words of life. O may the time speedily come when God's chosen messengers shall be liberated, so that they can give their time to sounding the last notes of warning to a wicked and perishing world. We are living in a solemn time, one in which much is required of the children of God. Let us then lay side and shoulder to the wheel of salvation's car, that it may move more rapidly. Yours in the love of the truth. WM. RUSSELL. THE WORSHIPERS OF VERTUMNUS.
THE Romans before their conversion to christianity, and while yet blindly wedded to their pagan superstitions, had in their mythological calendar a divinity whom they called Vertumnus. They so named him because he was imagined to be the god of change—from their verb verto, which meant "to change." This single attribute gave him all his attractions, and the oftener he changed his own form the more graceful they fancied him to have become! Silly as these heathenish fancies were, and ready as we moderns are to sneer at them, what better are the masses of mankind now, practically considered? We fear they have nothing to boast of in this respect. "Change" seems to be the order of the day. It is being written, constantly, on almost everything around us. Especially is this the case in this country. Think of the customs and habits of our grand-parents, and then of our own. Behold the modern built dwelling as it stands beside the "old house." Contrast in the same way, the old warehouses and workshops with the new ones. Nay, contrast the furniture or the tools found in them respectively, to say noting of laborsaving machinery. What words, but "change—wondrous change!" rush to the lips for utterance! Then again look at our fashions! Who can contemplate their rapidity of change without coming to the conclusion that the worshipers of Vertumnus, fools though they be, are not all dead yet! No devotee among the pagans of either Greece or Rome, ever could have shown a more enthusiastic interest at his mind and soul debasing shrine than thousands of our people now-a-days, do at the shrine of the insatiable goddess of fashion.—Sel. ANGER, INJURY, AND REVENGE.
If you are angry with him who reproves your sin, you secretly confess your anger to be unjust; he that is angry with the just reprover, kindles the fire of the just Avenger. When I have an injury done me I never set the beacon on fire; nor am I troubled! I consider who did it; if my kinsman, he did it ignorantly; if my friend, he did it against his will; if my enemy it is no more than I expected; I ever put a fair construction upon anything that happens to me. He that is naturally revengeful, keeps his wounds open, which otherwise would close of themselves. Pardon is a glorious kind of revenge; I think myself sufficiently revenged of my enemy if I pardon him. Catch not too soon at an offence, nor give too easy way to anger; the one shows weak judgment, the other a perverse nature. Have any wounded you with injuries? meet them with patience; Hasty words rankle the wound, soft language dresses it, forgiveness cures it and oblivion takes away the scar.—Of all passions, there is none so outrageous and extravagant as that of anger; other passions solicit and mislead us, but this runs away by force, and hurries us as well to our own as to another's ruin; it falls many times upon the wrong person, and discharges itself upon the innocent instead of the guilty, and makes the most trivial offences to be capital, and punishes an inconsiderate word perhaps with fetters or death; it allows a man neither time nor means for defence, but judges a cause without hearing it, and admits of no mediation; it spares neither friend nor foe, but tears all to pieces and casts human nature into a perpetual state of war. Have naught to do with any man in his passion; for men are not like iron to be wrought upon when they are hot. Argue not with a man whom you know to be of an obstinate temper; for when he is once contradicted, his mind is barred up against all light and information; arguments though never so well grounded, do but provoke him, and make him even afraid to be convinced of the truth. Let all men avoid rash speaking, they that speak without care, often remember their own words with sorrow; those that expect peace and safety are to restrain their own tongues with a bridle. It is good in a fever much better in anger to have the tongue kept clean and smooth. By taking revenge a man is but even with his enemy, but in passing it over he is superior. To be able to bear provocation, is an argument of great wisdom, and to forgive it is of a great mind. One unquiet perverse disposition, distempers the peace and unity of a whole family, or society as one jarring instrument spoils a whole concert.—Sel. A CHRISTMAS LYRIC.
By Jane Gay
THE night stars glittered like a diadem
Above the Judean hill-tops, when a band
Of way-worn pilgrims stopped at Bethlehem,
Obedient to Caesar's stern command!
Group after group had gathered all the day;
And coldly now the keeper of the inn
Turned from these last benighted ones away,
For they were lowly in their garb and mien;
And with the poor who flocked at Rome's decree,
Came Judah's wealth and her nobility. The house was full—and sad and heavily
To a low basement stable then they turned,
For far beneath the skies of Galilee
The cot in Nazareth where their home fire burned,
And chilly was the dew-fall on them there—
Sick and exhausted was the tiresome way,
The world shuns poverty, and few will share
A home and fireside with the poor who stray;
So, while the wandering cattle fed around,
They made their beds upon the damp, cold ground. Hark! hark! what sound breaks on the silent air?
The mellow tones of myriad harps are ringing
Through the clear night-vault! All the starry choir
Of heavenly angels join their might in singing
The world's triumphant anthem, "Glory, glory!"
Dwellers of Bethlehem-Judah, while the skies
Are waving their immortal banners o'er ye,
Shake off the leaden slumber from your eyes,
And bring your offering! Many an angel guest
Is hovering round the city of your rest. Upon the hills that gird the city round,
Amid the quiet flock that seldom strayed,
Shepherds were seated on the dewy ground,
As years before when the boy David played
His magic harp amid the sheep-folds there;
The shepherd bard, in numbers deep and strong
Pouring his inspiration on the air,
As the free hunter pours his wild, glad song!
And the same star would burst on them this night,
That on his inner vision shed such light. Gaze, shepherds! Lo! on the horizon's rim
Is rising now that Orb of Prophecy,
The glorious, wondrous star that heralds Him,
The world's Redeemer, in his mystery
Of earth-hood and divinity combined;
Leave there your sheep upon the mountain-side,
Meek-hearted ones, and follow till ye find
The long expected King. Your angel guide
Shall show to you a babe, a new-born stranger,
Softly reposing in a Bethlehem manger. The night stars faded when the next morn stained
The eastern hill-tops with its rosy light;
But the bright Star of Prophecy remained
To chase away the wide world's moral night!
And they awoke the busy city throng,
But all forgotten, like a night of dreams,
The angel hymnings and the choral song;
Each his own way, as best to each beseems,
The haughty Pharisee and beggar trod,
Alike regardless of the Son of God. Son of the Highest—Being so Divine!
From thy straw pillow wake not thou to weep!
The cattle on a thousand hills are thine—
They will not harm thee in thine earthly sleep!
For this poor stable thou hast left a throne
Of heavenly beauty, and upon thy brow
A vail of shadow and of grief is thrown;
An earthly destiny is on thee now—
And thou must bear the burden of thy lot
Alone! alone! the world will know thee not. Years sped along! The babe of Bethlehem grew
To manly stature, in the humble home
Of his kind foster parents. No one knew
The mystery of the mission he had come
To work in human guise. The carpenter
Of Nazareth was his sire—though whispering
Of sorest meaning sometimes on his ear
Fell from envenomed tongues; as if to wring
From patient, honest poverty, its stay,
And cloud the dearest sunshine on its way. But the forked tongue of malice could impart
No pang! From His lips, too, strange things would fall,
Which but his mother heeded in her heart,
She pondered o'er each word, and shrined them all;
For, Oh! for Him the bitterest drops of scorn
Had been nectarious. Nor heeded she,
In the full treasure of her spirit-born,
The world's distrust and cold uncharity!
She was a human mother, and her eye
Wept, as she marveled at his destiny! Jesus began his mission, and the land
Was filled with strange astonishment and awe;
Though on no fiery tables did his hand
Engrave the new commandments of his law,
He dropped them by the wayside, like the seed
Of flowers that fall to bless the wanderer's lot;
His presence gladdened every heart of need,
While deeds of mystery by his words were wrought;
The hand of palsy at his touch grew strong—
The blind had sight—the dumb the voice of song! The youth of Nain were sadly bearing one
In youth like them, a comrade to his tomb;
He was a widowed mother's only son,
And life's last love-light had gone out in gloom
From that lone mourner's heart! Jesus drew near,
His eyelids moistened with compassion's dew,
And kindly laid his hand upon the bier;
Then that electric touch started anew
The silent wheels of life; the youth of Nain
To a new earthly life was born again! Death crossed the ruler's threshold: one sweet bud
Had lain like a bright dew-drop on his heart;
The bud was bursting into womanhood
Before his eyes, when, lo! the spoiler's dart
Touched the young blossom, and its life-tide stilled.
He called the "Nazarene" to his abode;
And when he touched the hand that death had chill'd,
Warmly through every vein the life-blood flowed,
And while the maiden looked on Christ and smiled,
The ruler blessed the Saviour of his child. He stood beside the grave in Bethany,
"Groaning in spirit" for its shadows fall
On one he loved, and whose warm sympathy
Had often been potential to dispel
The sorrows that so closely marked his way;
And while the weeping sisters urged him there
To leave unbarred the dwelling of decay,
A moment lifted he his eyes in prayer,
And then the dead a God-like summons gave
To his first resurrection from the grave. Such are the wondrous deeds that cluster round
Thy name, Redeemer of our fallen race,
Until the mystic earth-tie was unbound
That held thee in humanity's embrace!
The sun was darkened, and no star arose
Above the Judean hill-tops, in the hour
That brought thine earthly wanderings to a close;
Death claimed thee—but the giant had no power
To bind his victim; thou did'st rend his chain
And clothe thee in thy Deity again! The lights gleam brightly through each green-wreathed pane;
The Christmas garlands tell of jubilee,
And crowds are thronging to the sacred fane
Upon this eve of thy nativity!
But in my silent chamber, all alone
I sit, dear Saviour now, and muse on thee,
And from thy Bethlehem birth-place follow on
Each step of that lone way to Calvary,
Where thou did'st suffer for the unforgiven,
And die to make the dying heirs of heaven! Cheerfulness is the sunshine of the soul, and the pleasing influence is not confined to self, but it diffuses happy light and genial warmth to the domestic and social circles. It is a true and inward joy, an agreeable and sober emotion, which, while it banishes melancholy, is readily distinguished from mirth, that oft, like lightning, breaks through the gloom, dazzles for a moment, when all becomes dark again. Merriment is transient and often spasmodic, but cheerfulness is a permanent and glowing serenity of the mind. The man who enjoys this happy disposition, is not only felicitous in his thoughts, but he controls his temper, and his impulses become amiable; while he feels a prevailing gratitude to the giver of all good, for the many blessings that have been vouchsafed to him. His family rejoice in the sunshine of his smile, and his friends unconsciously and irresistibly partake in his presence, of that galvanic but agreeable excitement, which with a mysterious mental sympathy, speeds like electricity from soul to soul, through groups and even31 entire congregations of the human family. Thus the cheerful man is a living fountain of good humor to those of his fellow-beings with whom he may come in contact. His imagination is clear, his judgment undisturbed by ungenerous, suspicious or bigoted prejudices. He looks at the world with a hopeful eye, sees chiefly the bright side of things, chases away the dismal visions and spectres that haunt the idler's fancy, labors with contentment, and enjoys the fruit of his toil with an exquisite relish. He gives not into the flying scandals of the hour that may involve his friends, and ridicules or lives down the calumnies that affect himself—thus disarming the point and edge of slanderous weapons, and rendering their venom innocuous. Good-will is the general sentiment felt towards him—for he is affable and obliging, qualities that are naturally reciprocated by all with whom he converses—and whether in business or pleasure has a kindly effect upon the hearts of acquaintances, elicits a friendly friendship and a mutuality of amicable emotion. Indeed, cheerfulness may be regarded as a most manifest sign of wisdom. For as in our lives, so in our studies and thoughts, it is becoming and prudent to temper this faculty with gravity, in order that the mind may not be filled with mournful ideas and sad forebodings. This virtue which is so universally admired, infers an acquiescence in the decrees of Providence, and a desire to dispense, so far as in our power lies, additional happiness to all around, and a measurable contentment with our own condition of life. We are not only happy, if good-humored ourselves, but we are anxious that our friends should likewise partake of the serene pleasure that we experience. Proneness to melancholy is the sad condition of many men. They regard the present with dissatisfaction, and view the future—always an imaginary future—with alarm. They look forward to their coming destiny as replete with wo, and dwell upon pictures of improbable ruin conjured up by a morbidly creative fancy, with such terrible tenacity, that their minds are enveloped in gloom, and thus they first give way to a nervous despondency, then to blank despair, which not unfrequently conducts the unhappy victim to suicide. With such doleful persons, who are constantly supposing and building up in their fantastic brains, what they conceive to be insurmountable and inevitable obstacles, but which have no real existence, either present or prospective—the conversation of a cheerful companion dispenses the balm of an awakened felicity, and kindles the pure flame of hope; and then the heart of the hypochondriac becomes softened and brightened. He sees his condition and prospects in gayer and more vivid colors, and while he resolves to arouse his faculties from the depressive nightmare of sickly fancies, he soon finds that “Hope, like the glimmering taper's light,
Adorns and cheers the way,
And still, as darker grows the night,
Emits a brighter ray.”
How important, then, and how gratifying also, will ever be the endeavors of all who encourage a cheerfulness of disposition! It is a faculty that will banish from the soul all that secret heaviness and vain sorrow, which many men are liable to, who labor under no real affliction. It deprives the unavoidable evils and adversities of life of half their bitterness, and is a treasury even in hours of severe and multiplied trials, like Pandora's box, a casket full of ills, with hope at the bottom—and so are the ills counteracted. Cheerfulness promotes virtue, reproves vice, and improves temper. Properly appreciated, it will be recognized as a portion of the “Divinity that stirs within us.”—Phil. Inquirer. “Then they that feared the Lord, spake often one to another.” Bro. Smith: Through the goodness of God I am yet numbered with those of whom the prophet speaks when he says, The living, the living, he shall praise the, as I do this day. Isa. xxxix, 19. I am glad that with you I am permitted to live in the days of the proclamation of the second coming of Christ, in the time of the messages, when the commandments of God, and the faith of Jesus are proclaimed in truth. Yes, although we are living in the perilous times of the last days, spoken of by Paul in 2 Tim. iii 3, 1, the thought that we are living so near the coming of that very same Jesus, who was taken up into heaven over eighteen hundred years ago, and is to return for those for whom he went to prepare mansions, [John 14, 3,] is indeed cheering; that many who are now living, will live to behold him coming the second time when they shall be changed from mortal to immortality, is a sublime thought. Although the times are perilous, to all the faithful, God's grace will be sufficient. Yes we will hope and will try to be faithful so as to be found with those who will be ready to say Lo, this is our God; we have waited for him, and he will save us. While reading your remarks upon “through messengers” the thought arose, shall all who are permitted to read this, get through? Shall I go through? Shall we ever be seen with the Lamb and his blood washed company, through? Having the aid of the two great lights, so to speak, “The commandments of God; and the faith of Jesus,” we can go through? Or we may be allowed to compare them to two mirrors between which we are standing: one reflecting the light of the other, showing what is behind us as well as before, the spots and stains upon the back as well as in front. May God grant that many may so look into the perfect law of liberty, being doers of the work, as to have liberty to pass in through the gates into the city, eat of the fruit of the tree of life, and live forever. Waiting for Jesus
By H. S. Gurney
BRO. SMITH: I am still trying to make progress in the right direction, but sometimes get to looking on the dark side; and some discouragement steals over me for a time, or until I get a single eye to the words of truth, and then I am made to rejoice again. And sometimes while reviewing the harmony of present truth, I am led to rejoice with joy unspeakable. There is something glorious in the dealing of God with men; and amidst trials we may rejoice if we let patience have her perfect work. O when will Jesus come? Why doth his chariot delay? O come my Lord! Are not thy people ready? O thy long-suffering! will it continue long? Your brother looking and waiting,
H. S. GURNEY.
Jackson, Mich. Trials and Sanctification
By E. L. Bascom
Bro. Smith: Gladly would I express my gratitude for the Review. I feel that it is one of the many great blessings which my heavenly Father has bestowed upon me. How many times have I found something within its pages which was just what I very much needed. Never did I realize it more than while reading a piece on "Self," in No. 25 of Vol. xiv. I had felt for some time that I was indeed wretched and nearly destitute of the grace of God. I felt to truly hunger and thirst after a clean heart. When I read that piece, I saw how I had been resisting the work of the Lord in my own heart. The trials which I thought so very afflicting, I now feel are just what I need. How good the Lord is! how long-suffering to unworthy me! When I first saw the light of present truth I thought it would be an easy matter to go through to Mt. Zion. How little did I know of my own carnal heart! and how could I have seen that without trials? When I look back and see how impatiently I have borne trials, I wonder that the Lord has borne so long with me. I feel like giving up all my own will, and saying, welcome trials and afflictions, if I can only be accepted of the Lord and numbered with his children. Caledonia, Mich., Nov. 1859. FELL asleep in Jesus October 5th, in the fifty-third year of his age, our well beloved brother Charles Guysinger. For the last twenty-five years of his life he confessed himself a pilgrim and stranger here, "seeking for a better country, even a heavenly;" and although afflictions many and severe had been his lot to suffer, yet in his case truly "tribulation worked patience." Our much beloved brother has left a large family and many relatives to mourn his loss, but in this afflictive dispensation of providence they have an entire community to sympathize with them, as it has lost one of its most exemplary and worthy citizens. The church also feels truly sensible of the great loss it has suffered, and claims its position among the principal mourners, as it has lost one of its most valued members, one who was an example to believers in word, in conversation, in charity, in spirit, in faith, in purity. May the Lord enable all the mourners, both in the circle of relatives and in the church to follow his example, that they may have a well grounded hope with him of soon having their vile bodies made like unto Christ's own glorious body, and becoming joint heirs with him to the heavenly inheritance which is incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away.
T. J. BUTLER.