Earlier text: THE CONSTITUTIONAL AMENDMENT:A pressure of other imperative duties, on our part, has interrupted for several weeks an interchange of views with Bro. Griswold on the second coming of Christ. We now resume the subject; and that the reader may understand what is yet before us, we would state that one more article on the present subject, and one each on the propositions that have been suggested for consideration, will conclude this series of articles. A few points in his present article we will notice in order. Adventists assume, he says, the resurrection of Christ’s literal body. We assume, if that can be called an assumption which the Scriptures assert, that Christ was literally and bodily raised. He showed the disciples his hands and his feet to prove it. Luke 24: 39: “Behold my hands and my feet, that it is I, myself: handle me and see.” How could the personality and identity be any more strongly expressed? On another occasion, John 20: 25–29, the Lord told Thomas to behold the prints of the nails in his hands and feet, and of the spear in his side. And this body which bore these marks of the crucifixion, he called himself: “Because thou hast seen me, thou hast believed.” Bro. G. is compelled to admit the resuscitation of Christ’s natural body, as evidence, he says, of the resurrection of Christ. And yet he denies that this was Christ’s resurrection. Here was a body which the Lord presented to the disciples as himself which was the only evidence, so far as we have any record, upon which they based their faith in his resurrection, but which, was after all not himself, and was no evidence of his resurrection, that being entirely independent of the resuscitation of the natural body, and just as complete without as with it. His view, as we understand it, puts Christ, between his resurrection and ascension, into possession of two bodies; his spiritual body, which was his real resurrection, and his resuscitated natural body; and sometimes he appeared in one, and sometimes in the other. Query: When he appeared in his spiritual body, where was the resuscitated natural body? Did the Lord take this body about with him, as the actor takes his trappings in which to array himself when he wishes to appear in a certain character? And when he appeared in this body, what became of the spiritual body? And we may ask the same questions of Bro. G. respecting this resuscitated natural body, that he asks of us: Did he exhibit this body naked or clothed? If clothed, where did he obtain the clothes? Did he buy, beg, or borrow them? But the disposition Bro. G. finally makes of this body is both novel and extraordinary. He says it instantly resolved itself into its original gases. Before the reader adopts this view, he should pause and consider the effect of such a change. We presume many of our readers have seen the spark applied to the loaded ordnance, and witnessed the explosion, and felt the concussion that immediately shook the earth, and seemed to shatter the very heavens. What was the cause of all this commotion? Simply this: a small amount of matter, composed of saltpeter, sulphur, and charcoal, which we call gunpowder, had “instantly resolved itself into its original gases;” and this was the result. What would have been the effect, at the time of which we speak, of a like change in a quantity of matter equal in bulk to the human body? The disciples, had they been anywhere near, would have been hurled into eternity, and Judea would have been shaken from Hermon to Bezor. What he says about the blood, muscles, and other organs of the resurrected body, especially the “viscera,” which his pen seems so often to catch, and its avoirdupois weight, the difficulty of overcoming gravitation, &c., he would have omitted had he reflected that we have never claimed that the resurrected body is a mortal, corruptible body like the ones we now possess. “It is sown,” says Paul, “in corruption; it is raised in incorruption. It is sown a natural body; it is raised a spiritual body.” Such was Christ’s body after his resurrection; it was nevertheless a literal body which could be seen and handled, and presented the marks of the crucifixion. Luke 24: 39; John 20: 26–29. Why then did not Mary and the disciples on their way to Emmaus know him? The Scripture record itself answers: Not because his resurrected body was so strange that they had to be told who he was, but because “their eyes were holden that they should not know him.” Luke 24: 16. The exact nature of this spiritual body, our finite philosophy may not presume to determine. This much it is safe to say, because this much is revealed, that blood is not (as in our present bodies, Lev. 17: 11) the vehicle of its life; for “flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God.” 1 Cor. 15: 50. Those organs, then, which in our present bodies constitute the blood-making, blood-propelling, and blood-directing organs, either may not be found in the spiritual body, or may be put to other uses. And let all consider how large a proportion of the organs of the body these constitute. Moreover, all those things which we are required to do in support of life, which are done for the direct purpose of supplying blood to the system, may be dispensed with in the spiritual body. Here Bro. G.’s “constant miracle for the support of the resurrected body, fades completely out. No more constant miracle is required for the support of the spiritual body, according to its nature and constitution, than is now manifested in providing support for the natural body which is adapted to its organization. With this view of the immortalized body, we see not much occasion to talk about viscera. But some people have educated themselves to think and feel that everything that is material is necessarily gross and filthy. There is nothing in matter as such necessarily unholy or impure. The earth was as literally composed of matter when first created, as now. Nevertheless it was holy and pure. For the sons of God shouted for joy over it as a world of loveliness and beauty; and even the Great Architect himself pronounced it very good. So it will be again when purified by the fires of the last day from the last traces of the curse and sin, which constitute its sole defilement, it comes forth the redeemed dwelling-place of a redeemed and sinless race. 2 Pet. 3: 7–14. So our Lord took upon himself the nature of the seed of Abraham. Heb. 2: 16. From the tomb he came forth with this human body changed to an immortal or spiritual body. With this body he ascended where he is now glorified. John 7: 39. And this body he will ever bear as a fitting memento and trophy of his glorious intervention in behalf of our race. This explains how we are to become like him. 1 John 3: 2. And Paul says, Phil. 3: 21, that he “shall change our vile body, that it may be fashioned like unto his glorious body.” What does Paul mean by “this vile body,” or, as some commentators prefer to express it, “this body of our humiliation”? He means, beyond question, this present, mortal body; and mark it, this body is to be changed and fashioned like unto Christ’s glorious body. But Bro. G. says that this body is to go forever back to dust, while the spirit being slips out into its new state of existence. Paul says again in 1 Cor. 15: 53: “This corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality.” What is this corruptible and this mortal? This mortal body certainly, whatever view we may take of the nature of man. And Paul does not say that a principle or being, itself immortal, somewhere confined in this mortal corruptible body, at length finds opportunity to escape from this mortal prison house, and the house then goes forever back to dust; but this mortal, all that is mortal or corruptible about us, puts on, is clothed or invested with, immortality, or becomes itself immortal. It is then a spiritual body fitted for the kingdom of God. With tenfold more plausibility can a person deny the declaration that the seventh day is the Sabbath of the Lord, than he can deny in the face of this testimony from Paul, that the plan of salvation embraces the redemption of these natural bodies. Rom. 8: 23. But Bro. G. thinks Christ’s body could not have been a material body because he came into the room the doors being shut. But this is no more mysterious than what we observe in our own experience through all our waking hours. If no such thing as glass had ever been known, but all the experience of mankind had been confined to the opaque substances of earth, wood, stone, &c., and then an article had been suggested of such a nature that it seemed to be more dense than flint, and impervious to even air and water, and yet afforded no obstruction to the rays of vision; such a thing would have been pronounced an utter impossibility, and we venture to affirm that glass as we now have it would have been pronounced by both theology and philosophy combined, to be pure spirit, or as not belonging to our sphere of existence. It is as mysterious that rays of light can pass through a substance of the solidity of glass, as it is that God can organize material beings so far above our comprehension that the substances we have to do with here can offer no barrier to their movements. To reason respecting the works of the Almighty on the basis of our crude ideas of things, is altogether untheological not to say puerile. What Eld. G. means by saying that we deny any such thing as spirit, or spiritual phenomena, we know not. If we are, in his view, materialists, he must not, in defining materialism, go beyond the views we hold; or if he chooses to set forth as materialism, views we do not hold, then he must not include us in the same category with materialists. In regard to the preaching of Christ to the spirits in prison, we refer the reader to an article on that subject in Review, No. 1, present volume; and with a few observations on the appearing of Christ, we will conclude our remarks on Bro. G.’s present article. He argues against the idea of Christ’s ascension because his line of ascension would have been at one point in the earth’s revolution, exactly opposite from what it would have been at another time, or at another time at right angles with it. We have never supposed it necessary that he should take a bee line from the point of his departure to that of his destination; so that if he happened at the time of the ascension to be on the opposite side of the earth from the direction in which he wished to leave it, his first act would be to bolt straight through the earth. Mark says, “He was received up into Heaven.” Luke says, “He was parted from them, and carried up into Heaven.” On Bro. G.’s view that the ascension was simply a closing of their spiritual eyesight, and the receding of Christ from their view, it seems to us that the record should have read, And he led them out as far as to Bethany, and put out their spiritual eyes; and they, as the result of that cleverly-performed transaction, returned to Jerusalem laboring under the complete deception that their Lord187 had gone up into Heaven! whereas he had only vanished from their sight. It is not pleasant to think of our Lord as practicing such spiritual jugglery among his followers. On Heb. 9: 28, we conceive that Bro. G. limits the word appear by altogether the wrong phrase. He has it that Christ will appear the second time only to those that look for him; whereas the text asserts that the salvation he brings will be for those only who look for him. “Unto them that look for him shall he appear without sin unto salvation.” Others will see him, but no others have the salvation. If he is to appear only to those that look for him, what shall we do with all those warnings and threatenings which are given in reference to his coming? Matt. 24: 48–51: “But and if that evil servant shall say in his heart, My Lord delayeth his coming, and shall begin to smite his fellow-servants, and to eat and drink with the drunken, the Lord of that servant shall come in a day when he looketh not for him, and in an hour that he is not aware of, and shall cut him asunder and appoint him his portion with the hypocrites.” What! shall this evil servant who is not looking for his Lord, be suddenly raised to a high degree of spirituality, and have his spiritual eyes “couched” to discern his Lord before he is aware of it? Will it be the same with all those tribes of the earth who will mourn when they see him coming? verse 30; and with those upon whom he threatens to come as a thief, if they do not watch? Rev. 3: 3. Again it is said, by way of objection, that if the Lord comes personally or bodily, all must see him nolens volens. Very well, what do the Scriptures say? Rev. 1: 7: “Behold he cometh with clouds and every eye shall see him, and they also which pierced him, and all kindreds of the earth shall wail because of him.” As the disciples gazed up after him into heaven, a cloud received him out of their sight. In the same manner the angels told those disciples that he would return. With clouds he comes, says John; to take vengeance on them that know not God, says Paul, 2 Thes. 1: 7, 8, but to bring salvation to them that look for him, which implies a preparation to meet him. Heb. 9: 28. A USURER a princely fortune made,
Though not by fraud or even tricks of trade;
But—as he vowed—because Heaven deigned to
bless
His honest toil and give him great success.
Eager to show the gratitude that filled
His swelling breast he now began to build
An alms-house, doubtless hoping that the Lord
This pious undertaking would reward.
When all was ready, in exultant mood,
Viewing the goodly pile, the miser stood,
Thinking how well the work of love would pay,
When a shrewd neighbor chanced to pass that
way. The miser, who most ardently desired
To hear his stately hospital admired,
Now in a tone of triumph asked his friend
If it were large enough to suit the end.
“Why not,” was the reply; “’tis nobly planned,
A welcome refuge for a glorious band:
But if you mean it as a home for all
Whom you’ve made poor, the building’s far too
small!”—Sentinel and Reporter. Light-Holders.
By Wm. Penniman
The annexed article having this caption, published in the Review of May 24, 1864, so forcibly sets forth the duty of Christians at the present hour in letting their light shine, that it seems to me worthy of republication. Would that all who can, would imitate the example of the poor pensioners of Greenwich Hospital, in the proper distribution of tracts, and thus let their light shine in this direction. Wm. Penniman. Every voyager through the British Channel will remember the famous light-house, that stands near the gates of the Atlantic. It rises from a rock in the midst of the waves; its beacon-blaze streams far out over the midnight sea. The angry waves, for many a long year, have rolled in—thundering against the tower's base. The winds of heaven have warred fiercely around its pinnacle; the rains have dashed against its gleaming lantern. But there it stands. It moves not, it trembles not; it is founded on a rock. Year after year, the storm-tossed mariner looks out for its star-like light, as he sweeps in through the British Channel. It is one of the first objects that meets his eye, as he returns on his homeward voyage; it is one of the last which he beholds after his native shores have sunk beneath the evening wave. On the base of its tower is this inscription: “To give light and to save life.” That tower of Eddystone is a light-holder to all who come within its range. It does not create light, it only sheds it, and “giveth light” to every passer-by on his watery way. This image of a light-house may have been in the apostle's mind, when he wrote to the Philippians of the surrounding heathen and idolaters, and said to them, “Among whom ye shine as lights in the world.” Some translate the word, torch-bearers. Others hold that it refers to stars in a dark night. All the interpretations look to the same idea, viz., that Christians are Christ's light-holders to their fellow-men. The lantern of a light-house is not self-luminous. It has to be kindled by a hand from without itself. By nature, every Christian is as unfitted to give spiritual light as the empty tower on Minot's Reef or on Sandy Hook would be to guide the mariner at midnight. God creates the natural power, the mental faculties, as the builder rears the stone-tower of Eddystone or Sandy Hook. Neither natural heart or stone-tower are self-luminous. A hand from without must bring them light. Conversion by the Holy Spirit is a spiritual illumination of the soul. God's grace lights up the dark heart, sometimes suddenly, as in the case of Paul. Sometimes, as in the case of John Newton, there is at first a feeble germ of light, like the little blue point of flame on a candle-wick, and this germ of light grows into a clear, full blaze. The beginning of true religion is in the first acts of sincere penitence—the first breathings of earnest prayer—the first hungerings after God—the first honest attempt to do right and to serve the Lord. God's grace, remember, is the only original source of the light that makes any man a luminary in society. And when a man has once been kindled at the cross of Christ, he is bound to shine. And, in order to do this, he need not be conspicuous in society for talents, wealth, or intellectual culture. The modest candle by which a housewife threads her needle, shines as truly as does the great lantern that burns in the tower of a City Hall. A humble saint who begins his day with household devotions, and serves his God all day in his shop or at his work-bench, is as truly a light-holder as if he flamed from Spurgeon's pulpit, or illuminated a theological class from a professor's chair. To “shine,” means something more than mere possession of piety, or the enjoyment of piety; it is the reflection of gospel religion that makes the burner. Martin Luther was an Eddystone-tower to bewildered Europe. On the other hand, the humblest tract visitor, or mission-school teacher is a lantern-bearer, to guide some lost wanderers toward Heaven. Harlan Page, the pious carpenter, never talked with a person for ten minutes without saying something to benefit his soul. He was a steady burner; so was Deacon Safford, of Boston. Thomas Dakin, a poor pensioner of Greenwich Hospital, distributed over one hundred thousand tracts every year, and when at last death smote him down suddenly, his pockets were found filled with tracts entitled, “Are you prepared to die?” Dr. Nettleton carried his gospel-lamp from town to town—held it forth every evening to gathered companies of anxious souls—and during his lifetime guided many thousands to a knowledge of the Saviour. Oh! what a Heaven Nettleton will have! If every Christian who trims his lamp, and keeps the oil of grace up to its full supply, is such a blessed benefactor to others, what a terrible thing it is for a Christian to let his light go out! A traveler who once visited a light-house in the British Channel, said to the keeper, “But what if one of your lights should go out at night?” “Never,” said the keeper, “never—impossible. Sir, yonder are ships sailing to all parts of the world. If to-night my burner were out, in a few days I might hear, from France or Spain, or from Scotland or America, that on such a night the light-house in the Channel gave no warning, and some vessel had been wrecked. Ah! Sir, I sometimes feel, when I look at my lights, as if the eyes of the whole world were fixed on me. Go out! Burn dim! never, Sir, never!” How closely this incident comes home to us all. Perhaps in eternity I may hear that some precious soul was wrecked, because my pulpit was not a faithful light-holder to my congregation. Some gospel-burners were neglected and grew dim. One man, perhaps, stumbled into a drunkard's grave, because I did not warn him soon enough against the peril of the first glass. Another broke God's Sabbath, for want of keeping the fourth commandment trimmed and burning. Before another was not held up the exceeding sinfulness of sin; and Jesus, the light of the world, may not have been set forth aright to wandering sinners. “Go out—burn dim!” God help me to say, “Never—never!” I know of certain households in which I fear the lamp is out. That boy would not be seen so often on his way to the theater, or the drinking-saloon, if father and mother held up the torch of loving warning! That giddy daughter, who was once thoughtful about her soul, might now be a Christian, if there had been a light-holder near at hand, to guide her to Jesus. There was a lamp of profession in the house. It did not shine. The oil was out. Love of the world had extinguished it. That dark lantern left the house in midnight. Thank God! some lights never go out. Death cannot quench them. They shine forever. Luther's great lantern, “the just shall live by faith,” still gleams from Wartburg Castle. John Bunyan's lamp twinkles through the gratings of Bedford Jail. “Then gird your loins, my brethren dear,
a That distant home discerning;
Our absent Lord has left us word,
a Let every lamp be burning!”
—Cuyler.
THE power of “the root of all evil” in these times is overwhelming. Before Mammon, men tremble. It is the god of the rich, and the idol of those less favored. Its influence pervades all ranks and classes of men. Heroes lose their manhood in grasping after it. Honor quails before its influence. Crime is set down as naught in comparison with the respectability (?) and weight which he who possesses a well-lined purse can command. Its influence for good is undoubtedly powerful: but in the hands of the vile and unprincipled it has a tendency to taint and pollute the entire social and moral atmosphere. Backed by money, a man, in these times, can with impunity commit every crime in the calendar, and escape unscathed. He can, if his villainy is deep-seated, and he is in possession of the quality vulgarly denominated “brass,” hold his head high, and ride down all frowns and the contempt of an entire community. He can buy up those who have suffered insult and injury at his hands; and puffed up with his pride of purse and acknowledged influence, he can tread the public thoroughfares with a stately step, and receive the smirking salutations of those who, in their hearts, despise him, while he inwardly gloats over his untold crimes, and plots new schemes for the gratification of his base passions, and injury of his fellow-men. Justice can be subverted; the laws set at defiance; the grossest immorality practiced; and the blackest and most degrading crimes committed without fear, by the depraved, if they can but command at will the influence of money. Such has been, and will be, we suppose, the record of this, as well as all other communities. The strong-minded man ceases to be powerful when tempted with the alluring bait. His knees smite each other, and he quietly worships at the shrine. The weak and puerile readily grasp with nervous activity the glittering bauble, and daily, in all ranks and stations of life, homage is paid Mammon.—Dundas Banner. “FINALLY, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report, if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.” “Whatsoever things are TRUE.” That word is properly “truthful,” not opposed so much to error as falsehood. We are apt to think that it refers to true doctrine, to things which we must receive as articles of faith that are proved to be true, and it is most important that we should cleave to the truth in this sense; still the meaning here rather points to truthfulness in your dealings one with another. Be perfectly and absolutely truthful in your daily life. Make absolute truthfulness a matter of hourly study. Are you inclined to think such a charge unnecessary for a child of God? It is painful to feel that it can be otherwise, but the sad fact is that our nature is so altogether falsified, that deceit has crept in so universally since sin came in, that we hardly know, until we put our tendencies and our actions beside the Bible, how untrue we are. The whole world is a lie—the whole world is a sham, pretending everywhere to be what it is not; and it is a most difficult thing for the children of God so to live by the word of God as to be entirely different from a false world; to shake ourselves out of habits and customs that have become universal. But, however our testimony may be misinterpreted, we must firmly take our stand in this matter, and dare, if we are ever so singular, to be TRUE. All exaggerated forms of expression, often unintentionally adopted from mingling with people who use them—the objectionable slang of the day, which has become the current mode of speech, and which, if we are not on our guard, it is easy to fall into—we must keep ourselves from these, if we would be absolutely truthful. I am certain that if, as the apostle says, we think on these things—i. e., keep our minds occupied about them, make them a matter of study—we shall have to drop much from our conversation that has become habitual to us. Never was there a time when the whole tone of the day was more opposed to what is true; and there is a “sensational” mode of speech prevalent which is not only contrary to God’s word, but to good taste. We need to be reminded of our Lord’s charge, “Let your communication be, Yea, yea; Nay nay; for whatsoever is more than these cometh of evil.” Does not this imply great simplicity in the use of words? No interlarding our conversation with exclamations and exaggerations—calling things, for example, “awful,” when only a little contrary to our wishes. No repeating and asseverating what we say in expressions learned from the world. But if thus guarded and particular, it will be said of us, “They are so flat, so insipid, so stupid!” Very likely; but surely, if God’s children are going out into the world as his representatives they have something higher to think of than their own reputation. It is the glory of their Master they desire to live for. And yet I believe that while consistency in this matter may affect our popularity, it has more to do with our real reputation than we are sometimes disposed to think. The world has a high standard by which it measures Christians, and is quick to discern the least divergence from it. The world, let us never forget, expects us to be true, however it may dislike our truthfulness; and we cannot be too careful about it. Again, I would say, let us avoid talking of what we do not understand, whether it concerns things or people; this involves inaccuracy. How many things are said untruthfully, when people meddle with matters of which they know nothing! And let us watch against misrepresentation—giving an impression, it may be, which, though our words are guarded, so as to be free from direct falsehood, is yet making a person or circumstance to appear in a character or a coloring that is not actually correct. Again, if we would be strictly true, we must avoid censoriousness and gossiping. The love of talking about others leads to untruthfulness. Newsmongers, who aim at being considered to know more than others, easily slip into it, and we, who desire to set an example to those we wish to teach, must ponder our words, and keep over them a careful, watchful guard. “Whatsoever things are true . . . think on these things.”—From Christian Character, in Woman’s Work. A Lesson for Prolix Writers.
In Newport, R. I., a grocer who kept a shop was noted for his grasping disposition. One day he nailed up a salt cod on one of the shutters of his shop, and underneath he wrote in chalk: “Codfish for sale cheap for cash here.” Presently in came an acquaintance, and said: “What do you have ‘here’ on that sign about codfish for?” You don’t sell codfish or any other goods in any place but here. Anybody would know where you sold them without that word.” “That’s so,” said the grocer. “Boy, wipe out the word ‘here’ from the codfish sign.” The boy obeyed, and the next day another critic appeared. Said he, “‘For cash!’ Who ever knew you to trust for any goods? Why do you say you sell codfish for cash?” “You are right,” said the grocer. “Boy, wipe out the words, ‘for cash,’ from the codfish sign.” This was done, and shortly after a third critic came to the shop, objecting to the word “cheap.” “Who ever knew you to undersell other dealers?” said he; “you don’t sell any cheaper than they. Your prices are just the same as theirs, and more, if you can get it. Cheap! cheap! what do you have that word for?” “Well, it is not of much use,” said the grocer. “Boy, wipe out the word ‘cheap’ from the codfish sign.” Again the boy did as his master bade, and the same day, critic No. 4 found fault with the phrase, “for sale.” Said he: “‘For sale!’ No one ever knew you to give away codfish. Of course you keep them for sale; there is no occasion for telling people what everybody knows.” “There is something in that,” said the grocer. “Boy, wipe out ‘for sale’ from the codfish sign.” This left the salt cod and the single word, “codfish,” beneath. It was but a few minutes after, that a customer, who came in to buy some goods, remarked to the grocer: “What a funny sign you’ve got out there! Any one would know that is a codfish nailed on your shutter.” “So they would,” was the reply. “Boy, wipe out the word ‘codfish’ from that sign.” The boy obeyed, and the fish remained with no inscription.—Ex. Dress Should Permit Outdoor Exercise
THERE is good sound sense in the remark made by Howard Glyndon in the Evening Mail, that no “dress should be worn habitually which prevents free egress into the street, or garden, or the forest. Quite enough time is taken up in changing the shoes and in putting on hat, mantle, and gloves. If exercise out-of-doors has to be preceded by elaborate preparation, it will gradually fall into disuse.”