Earlier text: THE SABBATH AND THE APOSTLESTHE GIFT OF GOD.
By Ellen G. White
JESUS said to the woman of Samaria, "If thou knewest the gift of God, and who it is that saith to thee, Give me to drink; thou wouldest have asked of him, and he would have given thee living water." The gifts of God are on every hand, and all his gifts come to us through the merit of Jesus, whom he gave to the world. The apostle Paul breaks forth in an exclamation of gratitude, saying, "Thanks be unto God for his unspeakable gift." And with Christ God has given us all things. The opening bud, the blooming flowers in their variety and loveliness, delightful to the senses, are the work of the Master Artist's expressions of his love toward us. What beautiful things his hands have made, and yet many behold the lovely things of nature, and do not associate God with these blessings. They do not realize that the beautiful things about them are tokens of God's love to504 fallen humanity, his efforts to attract them to himself. The Lord has taken great care that everything should be grateful and pleasant to us, and yet how much greater effort he has made to provide us with that gift whereby we may perfect a Christian character, after the pattern of Christ. Through the flowers of the field God would call our attention to the loveliness of Christ-like character. Jesus says, "Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin; and yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these." God is a lover of the beautiful. He desires that we shall consider the lovely flowers of the valley, and learn lessons of trust in him. They are to be our teachers. They grow, as God has designed they should, in purity and natural simplicity. The Lord takes care of the flowers of the field, and clothes them with loveliness, and yet he has made it evident that he looks upon man as of greater value than the flowers for which he cares. He has lavished upon us such gifts as human hand could not fashion, and yet the great mass of humanity take his gifts as a matter of course, or as if they came by chance. They offer no grateful thanks; their hearts are not awakened with love toward the gracious Giver. Suppose that our benevolent Father should grow weary with man's ingratitude, and for a few weeks should withhold his innumerable bounties. Suppose he should become discouraged in seeing his treasures applied to selfish ends, in hearing no response of praise and gratitude for his unmerited mercies, and should forbid the sun to shine, the dew to fall, the earth to yield her increase. What a sensation would be created! What dismay would fall upon the world! What a cry would be raised as to what we should do to supply our tables with food and our bodies with clothing! And yet, dependent as we are upon his bounties, many have taken his gifts as have the beasts of the field, and have never said, "I thank thee, kind Father, for thy daily benefits." If his mercies should be withdrawn, it would be no more than we deserve; for it would be treating us as unworthy of such unrequited love. God has not only supplied us with temporal benefits, but has provided for our eternal welfare; "for God so loved the world, that he gave his only-begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life." "If thou knewest the gift of God, and who it is that saith unto thee, Give me to drink; thou wouldest have asked of him, and he would have given thee living water." Oh, if we did but know the gift of God, if we did but appreciate what this gift of God means to us, we would have been earnestly seeking for it with unwavering perseverance! We would have offered such supplication, such appeals to God, that the gift of grace would not have been withheld, and the living water would have come to satisfy our longing, thirsty souls. "If thou knewest the gift of God." Yes, if the gift of God had been known, there would not be prayerless homes, and hearts as unimpressible as stone. Jesus Christ, the Majesty of heaven, has been offered to the world, has been given to man as his Saviour and Redeemer. Well may the inhabitants of heaven and the unfallen worlds look with astonishment upon man's lack of discernment, upon his ingratitude. Many have hated and spurned the gift of God, although Jesus clothed his divinity with humanity, and for our sake became poor, that we through his poverty might be rich. He left the courts of heaven, and came to the world, all seared and marred and polluted with sin; he practiced self-denial and self-sacrifice, descending lower and lower in the path of humiliation, that we might be enriched and exalted. Rich in houses and lands, in worldly honor?—No, but that we might have all heaven's imperishable treasure, an eternal weight of glory. "If thou knewest the gift of God." Oh, if the deceptive, bewitching power of Satan were only resisted, blinded eyes would be opened, unbelieving hearts would be made to perceive, and unsaved souls would have a knowledge of the unspeakable gift, and would press to the throne of grace with importunate prayer, entreating that they might drink of the living water. God is willing to impart to men the knowledge of his gift. Jesus is "to give the knowledge of salvation unto his people by the remission of their sins, through the tender mercy of our God; whereby the dayspring from on high hath visited us, to give light to them that sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace." "If thou knewest the gift of God." Who is there among those who already know the gift of God, who will fail to make known its preciousness to those who know it not? If you know the gift of God, if you have an experimental knowledge of what the blessings are that Christ came to bestow upon the perishing, will your lips be silent, your heart ungrateful? Will you have no interest in others, and be indifferent as to whether or not they know the way of salvation? Will you not make known to others the precious light of truth, that they also may know, that they also may ask of him, and receive the living water? Speaking of Jacob's well, Jesus said unto the woman: "Whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again; but whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life." How many are drinking of broken cisterns that can hold no water! Some think that if they could only have a certain salary, that would lift them above temporal want, they would be happy. But when the Lord grants them their heart's desire, and tests them by a larger measure of favor, they are just as desirous of a larger amount, and so it is with other things. Their hunger and thirst increase in proportion as his gifts increase, and humanity is ever crying, Give me this or that favor, and I will hunger and thirst no more; but when the desire is gratified, there is still a greater need. But there is one gift that God desires to bestow that will be as living water, and he who partakes of Christ will never hunger, never thirst. Jesus, the loving Saviour, entreats the woestricken inhabitants of earth to come to him. He says: "Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart, and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light." Oh, have you found this rest? Have you been to the fountain of living water to drink? The knowledge of God is the most vital to you. Have you found it? Jesus says: "As thou hast given him power over all flesh that he should give eternal life to as many as thou hast given him." "And this is life eternal, that they might know thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom thou hast sent." The evidence of our knowledge of God and of his Son is seen in the fact that we reveal him in life and character, that we make him known unto others. Shall we open our hearts to Jesus Christ? Shall we enthrone him in the temple of the soul? Shall we not cast away our idols, and surrender our all to God? God has had power to make the flowers fair and fragrant, and he has power to give meekness and loveliness to the heart, to impart purity and nobility to the character; to make us complete in Jesus. We may have loveliness of disposition, a meek and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of God of great price. Let us consider the precious gifts of God, think upon his tender mercies, yield our all to him, that he may give us hearts filled with gratitude, lives filled with the fragrance of deeds of love, a disposition to follow in the footsteps of Jesus, seeking to save those that are lost. Better Christians, Not More Christians
“THE great desideratum of the present day is not more Christians, but a better brand of Christians.” AT EVENING TIME IT SHALL BE LIGHT.
By Jessie Hocker
TEMPESTUOUS broke the day at dawn,
And ere the shades of night were gone,
The rain clouds gathered grim and fast,
And shadows doubly deep were cast.
For life within and life without
Seemed steeped in gloom thus cast about.
The day was dark, and life seemed cold,
Its joy like stories ofttimes told. "Dear Lord, beat back the clouds; draw nigh."
This was one soul's unceasing cry,
While duties pressed with heavy weight,
And care and toil did not abate.
Some selfish grief was mixed within
That eager cry—some tinge of sin.
And so His cleansing power he sent
To fit that soul for his intent. But still the shadows hovered near,
And still were cherished grief and fear;
Still bore the doubly freighted load
Along the dull and painful road.
Exhausted at the day's decline,
This cry went up: "Thine, only thine;
My sin, my grief, my care I bring.
No worthy or perfected thing Have I to give; my heart alone
I lay it passive at thy throne."
As when the waves on Galilee
Were bade to calm and quiet be,
So with that prayer a flood of light
Lit up that soul cathedral bright,
And gloom gave place to holy joy,
The wealth of trust without alloy. But not alone within the soul
Did gloomy shadows backward roll;
A blaze of light o'erspread the west,
Reflecting on the mountain crest,
Fell gleaming on the distant lake,
And all its radiant glories break
O'er verdant hill and far-off dell,
Enchanting nature by the spell. O Light of Life! how swift thy wings
To bring relief to him who clings
With faith implicit to that word
Whose power once quelled the throng that heard.
Come thus to light each newborn day
And drive the shades of sin away.
How blest that promise and how bright—
"At evening time it shall be light"? HE ADDETH NO SORROW.
By M. E. Steward
THERE are Christians who lose much of the sweetness of their blessings in the fear of some trial they believe is sure to come because of the blessing. This was the experience of a sister for many years. She remarked to an aged Christian that she expected some great trial because she had received such a blessing. "Not necessarily so," replied her friend. This opened the eyes of the sister, and ever after she enjoyed her blessings without the fear of coming evil. "The blessing of the Lord, it maketh rich, and he addeth no sorrow with it." Are we then to conclude that the Lord has nothing to do with the troubles which sometimes follow blessings? Blessings are often given to strengthen the soul to endure trials. Jesus himself received the gift of the Holy Spirit, and the assurance of his Sonship, and his Father's approval, immediately preceding his temptation in the wilderness. Just before he suffered, he was greatly blessed in communion with his disciples, whom he loved so dearly. Said he, "With desire I have desired to eat this passover with you before I suffer." The last prayer of our Lord (John 17) revealed holy satisfaction in the view of the absolute oneness of believers with himself and his Father. This prospect of the result of his sufferings must have nerved our blessed Redeemer to enter upon his last most terrible trial. "They sang a hymn and went out." "Jesus," as our lamented Brother J. N. Andrews used to say, "went to suffer and be crucified; we go to our pleasant homes." He went to carry out the whole will of his Father through bitterest agony. We too often go from the place where we have had sweet communion with our God, and grow careless, forget to watch and pray without ceasing, are more or less unmindful of the will of God, and discouragement comes upon us. How different it might have been! Blessings never come to prepare us to be discouraged. That must be a wrong use of a blessing which turns it into such a trial. All our blessings, and trials as well, which are of the Lord's appointment, work for our good, and lift us, if we use them properly, nearer the throne of God, even as our Saviour505 after he had suffered the will of his Father was "caught up to God and to his throne." Every blessing should be the stepping-stone to a higher plane of life, and this plane gained, the eye should be steadily fixed on Jesus, in humble gratitude and faith, and the hand should still reach earnestly toward heaven for help to climb up another step. We are told that the reason we have no greater blessings is because we would not use them aright. After receiving God's blessing we should be most careful to keep nearer him than before. We should watch against any feeling of self-gratulation that we are noticed of heaven, or we will soon begin to think there is some good in us; then we lose our blessing and fall, and then we think that's just what I expected; its because I received such a blessing. "He addeth no sorrow;" it is all our own fault, even if Satan comes in with powerful temptations and overcomes us. All this would never be did we keep consecrated to God, trusting him and watching against the first approach of evil. Many fail because they are satisfied with the blessings they receive instead of continually reaching for more. God begins to pour out his Spirit, designing to give much more; but they feel they have "already attained," and unconsciously settle down at ease. No wonder if the next thing they experience is the woe upon those who are at ease in Zion, and then comes the hard conflict to regain what they have lost. Those persons need an entire transformation. Only "he that is begotten of God keepeth himself, and that wicked one toucheth him not." Such an one is pavilioned by the angels; with his mind staid on God, he has peace all the time. If trials do succeed his blessings, he counts these trials his greatest blessings; they are no "sorrow" to him. He rejoices in the tribulations which fit him for the society of heaven. God wants us to thoroughly, unselfishly enjoy his blessings, giving him the glory. When we give good things to our child, we are happy in seeing him enjoy them, and we expect he will love and trust us more for the gift. God is our Father, and it is reasonable to believe he is not unlike earthly fathers in these things. He is infinitely better in every respect. "JESUS HIMSELF DREW NEAR."
By Christian Advocate
JESUS CHRIST never accepted the position, "Stand back, because I am holier than thou," which friend and foe alike tried to force upon him. On the contrary, his whole life was one of conformity to everything which brought him into closest fellowship with humanity. When John the Baptist forbade him, saying, "I have need to be baptized of thee, and comest thou to me?" his reply was, "Suffer it to be so now; for thus it becometh us to fulfill all righteousness;" for, being made in the likeness of men, "in all things it behooved him to be made like unto his brethren." When Peter objected, "Thou shalt never wash my feet," Jesus answered, "If I wash thee not, thou hast no part with me;" for if Peter would not allow the Lord to come down to his level for his good, he could never be lifted to his Lord's level to walk in fellowship with the Father and his Son Jesus Christ. When the Pharisees and scribes murmured that he received sinners, and actually ate with them, in three parables he showed that it was just his successful following, seeking, and watching for the lost which made the highest joy in heaven. He received and ate with them, that they might in turn receive him and have power to become the sons of God, and sit down at the marriage supper of the Lamb. When Simon the Pharisee thought his tolerance of the anointing by the woman who was a sinner a proof of his lack of insight and a nullification of his high claims, saying to himself, "This man, if he were a prophet, would have known who and what manner of woman this is that toucheth him," and if he had known, would he not have spurned her, a sinner? Jesus, answering, showed him that that outward touch of the poor creature weeping at his feet was not only acceptable to him, but that he had rewarded it by his inward touch in binding up her broken heart and anointing her with the oil of joy for mourning. When Simon Peter fell down at the Master's knees, saying, "Depart from me; for I am a sinful man, O Lord," Jesus' reply was a special appointment to his service: "Fear not; from henceforth thou shalt catch men." To the leper, while still a leper, he put forth his hand and touched him. He put his fingers in the ears of the deaf, laid his hands on the eyes of the blind, and took the little children in his arms. In every way he drew tenderly near to those he came to save, never standing aloof, but always with outstretched, welcoming hand, saying, "He that cometh to me, I will in no wise cast out;" and mourning with infinite pathos when they stood aloof: "Ye will not come unto me, that ye might have life." "O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, . . . how often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not." His answer to the two disciples, asking, "Master, where abidest thou?" was the prompt invitation, "Come and see." In Galilee he said, "Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden." In Jerusalem he said, "If any man thirst, let him come unto me;" and to John, in apocalyptic vision, he still repeated the invitation, "Let him that is athirst come." If you and Jesus never become acquainted, it will not be because he holds himself apart in lonely dignity. No; he has loved you better than he loved his dignity, and made himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant. Do you despise him for his humiliation? There is no occasion, for this same Jesus is now exalted to be a Prince and a Saviour, and is able to save them to the uttermost that come unto God by him. Are you afraid that he will despise you because you are so sinful? Be of good cheer; the Jesus who "must needs go through Samaria" to meet the woman at the well, who said to Zacchaeus, "Make haste, and come down, for to-day I must abide at thy house," is the same yesterday and to-day and forever, and is standing at your door, knocking, waiting for you to hear his voice and open the door, that he may come in and sup with you and you with him, still ready to be the sinner's guest, still ready to feed the sinner with the bread and water of life.—Christian Advocate. "I HAVE come to tell you," said Mr. Williams to Mr. Holmes, "that I cannot endure Smith's ill treatment any longer." "I know," said Mr. Holmes, "that he has not treated you very well, but as I had heard nothing new lately, I was in hopes he was coming round a little." "If I had given him any just provocation, his course towards me would not be so utterly intolerable." "You have born his ill treatment thus far with a good deal of meekness. I hope he will not succeed in causing you to render evil for evil. That, I presume, is what he desires. If he could provoke you to some act of retaliation, he would not feel the trouble which he now doubtless feels from a sense of injustice." "I have made up my mind to go and see him, and tell him how he has treated me, and warn him that I will submit to it no longer." "I would do no such thing." "Because, in the first place, he does not need to have you tell him how he has treated you; he knows that already. In the next place, you would probably get angry and say something which you would have to repent of, besides furnishing him with a self-justifying plea. No, my friend, I will tell you a much better way: Do as Hezekiah did when he received the insulting letter from the king of Assyria. You know he went and spread it out before the Lord. Go and spread out your case before the Lord. Instead of telling Smith how he has treated you, tell the Lord how he has treated you. "You may enter into all the particulars; for the Lord has a patient ear for all the troubles of his children. When you have made a full statement of your case, you will find yourself relieved, you will find yourself in a very different frame of mind from that which would result from telling your story to the author of your injuries. "When you have told the Lord your affliction, ask him to give you grace to bear it without murmuring, and to sanctify it to your growth in grace. Use as an argument the fact that he in his wise providence has permitted the affliction, and that his glory is concerned in your bearing it aright. It is always wise for us to interest the glory of God in accomplishing the end sought by prayer. Use also as an argument when seeking for grace to bear your trial, the fact that Christ, your great Example, suffered patiently and silently the insults and injustice of men. Say, 'O Lord, help me to bear this grievous wrong calmly, because Christ when reviled reviled not again, when he suffered, threatened not but committed506 his case to Him who judgeth righteously.' Ask him for grace to forgive your enemy; and urge as an argument the fact that otherwise you cannot obey your Saviour, who bids us pray, 'Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors.' You see you have strong arguments to use with the Lord—so strong that they must prevail. Now when you go home, enter your closet, and spread this whole matter before the Lord, somewhat after the manner I have set forth." Mr. Williams sat for a few moments in silence, then thanked Mr. Holmes for his advice, and expressed his determination to follow it. He then bade him good-morning and retired. About a week afterwards he called on Mr. Holmes again. He appeared to be in good spirits, and made no such complaints as he had been wont to make on former visits. After some conversation on a variety of topics, Mr. Holmes asked, "How are you and Smith getting on?" "Much better than when I saw you last. He has been to see me and has made some concessions, and promises to do better for the future." "What has caused the change in him?" "You did not go to him and give him warning to change his course, did you?" "No, I tried to follow the advice you gave me." "If you had gone and spread out your case before him, instead of spreading it out before the Lord, I doubt very much if he would have made any concession or promised amendment. I am satisfied from experience and observation, that it is best to make our complaints to the Lord, and to the Lord only. You can reach a man's heart more readily by prayer than in any other way. I make it a rule to tell the Lord all my troubles, and I have seldom occasion to tell them to anyone else."—Exchange. Is it rainy, little flower?
Be glad of rain.
Too much sun would wither thee,
'Twill shine again;
The clouds are very dark, 'tis true,
But just behind them smiles the blue. Art thou weary, tender heart?
Be glad of pain.
In sorrow sweetest things will grow,
As flowers in rain.
God watches and will send the sun
When clouds their perfect work have done.
—Selected. "THERE is something wrong with the religion of the man who will not pay his debts because he cannot be made to." "The fruit of Canaan is good, but it will not bear exportation. We must live there to eat the good of the land." Not long ago on board an English steamer a little ragged boy, aged nine years, was discovered on the fourth day of the voyage out from Liverpool to New York, and carried before the first mate, whose duty it was to deal with such cases. When questioned as to his object in being stowed away, and who brought him on board, the boy, who had a beautiful sunny face, and eyes that looked like the very mirrors of truth, replied that his stepfather did it, because he could not afford to keep him, or pay his passage out to Halifax, where he had an aunt who was well off, and to whose house he was going. The mate did not believe the story, in spite of the winning face and truthful accents of the boy. He had seen too much of stowaways to be easily deceived by them, he said; and it was his firm conviction that the boy had been brought on board and provided with food by the sailors. The little fellow was very roughly handled in consequence. Day by day he was questioned and requestioned, but always with the same result. He did not know a sailor on board, and his stepfather alone had secreted him and given him the food which he ate. At last the mate, wearied with the boy's persistence in the same story, and perhaps a little anxious to inculpate the sailors, seized him one day by the collar and, dragging him to the fore, told him that unless he told the truth in ten minutes from that time he would hang him from the yardarm. He then made him sit down under it on deck; all around him were the passengers and sailors of the midday watch, and in front of him stood the inexorable mate, with his chronometer in his hand, and the other officer of the ship at his side. It was the finest sight, said the informant, that he ever beheld—to see the pale, proud, sorrowful face of that noble boy, his head erect, his beautiful eyes bright through the tears that suffused them. When eight minutes had fled, the mate told him he had but two minutes to live, and advised him to tell the truth and save his life; but he replied with the utmost simplicity and sincerity by asking the mate if he might pray. The mate said nothing, but nodded his head and turned as pale as a ghost, and shook with trembling like a reed with the wind. And there, all eyes turned on him, the brave and noble little fellow, this poor waif whom society owned not, and whose own stepfather could not care for him, knelt on the ship's deck and prayed. Our young friend was a true believer in the Lord Jesus Christ, and there, with clasped hands, and eyes upturned to heaven, he asked the dear Lord Jesus to take him to himself and to forgive the mate. Our informant adds that then occurred a scene of Pentecost. Sobs broke from strong, hard hearts, as the mate sprang forward to the boy and clasped him to his bosom, and kissed him, and blessed him, and told him how sincerely he now believed his story, and how glad he was that he had been brave enough to face death and be willing to sacrifice his life for the truth of his word.—Watchword. SOME of the recent improvements made in the manufacture of wire glass leave no doubt as to the practical value of that new and novel article. The form of apparatus by means of which the most satisfactory results are being produced is found to be a glass rolling table, having a three-roller carriage over it running on the side ledges, and upon this table the glass is rolled out, the ledges regulating its thickness; two of the rollers are smooth; the central roller has a series of grooves running around it, and between the leading and the corrugated roller a slide is placed for the reception of a sheet of wire gauze. Now, a proper quantity of melted glass being poured out upon the table, the hot sheet of wire gauze is placed in its carrier, and the roller carrier started; the latter having progressed a little, the wire is dropped; the first roller has rolled out the glass; the wire gauze strikes the partly fluid glass, and is drawn under the corrugated roller; the latter seizes it, and, by its corrugations, forces it into the pasty glass to the required depth. At this stage the compound mass goes under the third roller, where it is rolled to the smoothest possible condition, and the operation is completed. The sheet is subsequently annealed in the usual way, and is ready for use.—Selected. THIS is a writing telegraph. A man sits down at his desk in St. Louis and writes a message to his friend in New York. The latter receives the message in an exact facsimile of the handwriting of the sender. This operation requires no skilled labor. Anyone who can write can send a message, and, providing there is an electric wire connecting them and two transmitters and receivers, two persons can carry on a correspondence, though thousands of miles apart, and every stroke of the pen will be exactly and instantaneously reproduced over that distance. The structure of these instruments seems to be remarkably simple. In the transmitter an ordinary lead pencil is used, near the point of which two silk cords are fastened at right angles to each other. These cords connect with the instrument, and, following the motions of the pencil, regulate the current impulses which control the receiving pen at the distant station. The writing is done on ordinary paper—five inches wide—conveniently arranged on a roll attached to the machine. A lever at the left is so moved by the hand as to shift the paper forward mechanically at the transmitter, and electrically at the receiver. The receiving pen is a glass tube placed at the junction of two aluminum arms. This glass pen is supplied with ink, which flows from a reservoir, through a small rubber tube placed in one of these arms. The electrical impulses, coming over the wire, move the pen of the receiver simultaneously with the movements of the pencil in the hand of the sender. As the pen passes over the paper, an ink tracing is left, which is always a facsimile of the sender's motions, whether in the formation of letters, words, figures, signs, short-hand writing, drawing, or pictures.—The Altruist. MOTHER'S AFTER-DINNER NAP.
By Floy L. Wright
THERE is one duty which every mother owes to herself and family, especially during the summer months—a nap after dinner. A busy woman once told me that she owed her health, her patience, and her happiness to this habit. She did her own housework, living in a dirty city, where it required a constant struggle to be clean; but daily, after her dinner work was finished, she locked her doors, bathed her two little children, put them first into their nightgowns and then in their bed between sheets. Then she took her own bath, donned her nightgown, and crept into her bed, which was close beside the children's. They would all sleep soundly for an hour or more, undisturbed if the door bell chanced to ring, but by four o'clock they were usually dressed, rested and refreshed. The children were no more trouble for the rest of the day, and when the husband came home at night, he found cheerful, bright faces to welcome him. There is, in truth, no time so well spent as in an after-dinner nap. We are all human, and it is not in the power of womankind to be able to present the much-lauded "cheerful countenance" unless she give some thought to her own individual comfort. We need not expect to keep the love of our husbands and children if we allow ourselves to grow fretful, and present a sorrowful and untidy appearance. We must keep our tempers sweet, and there's no ounce of prevention better than an afternoon nap. Try it.—Floy L. Wright, in Babyhood. THE MORAL VALUE OF NEATNESS.
By Christian Union
ONE of the serious mistakes made by mothers in training their children, is in supposing that careful habits can be cultivated in careless surroundings. A ragged or worn carpet, so little valued by the mother that grease or ink spots can be left on it without causing comment, may become a moral calamity. Tying the child up in a bib, and giving it the liberty to spill its food when eating, is responsible for bad table habits in the men and women whom we meet. A child who is made to eat its food carefully, in a room where the furnishings are respected, where a penalty will follow carelessness, naturally acquires careful, refined manners. Many a mother spends more time repairing damages—the results of careless habits, due largely to the furnishings in the dining room—than she would need to spend in setting a table carefully and keeping the room in order, so that its order and neatness commended the respect of the children. The ounce of prevention is worth several pounds of cure in the training of children, and it is a pity that the ounce of prevention is not administered in the infinitesimal doses necessary in early childhood, rather than in the radical doses necessary to overcome neglect in matters that are never minor—for manners and habits mark the man. A man may be a moral man and eat with his knife; but he would be a more valuable man in the community if he recognized the uses for which the knife was designed, and applied it only to those uses. "AT THE BOTTOM OF THE SEA."
By Dr. E. P. Thwing
"Where would you have been if I had not met you?" asked a lady of a bright young lad. "At the bottom of the sea!" was the prompt reply. Both the lady and the lad spoke in Cantonese. The one spoke reprovingly; the other answered in a low, serious tone, that showed shame for having grieved the heart of one to whom he owed his life. Last May two missionaries were passing near the bank of the river that flows by the house where I am now writing, when they saw a man and woman about to drown a lad of thirteen. On inquiry they found that he was a bad boy, following in the steps of his father in dishonest gambling habits. His ugly temper grew more intolerable under cruelty; and so, as in other cases, this father and grandmother were to put him out of the way. It was not unknown to the neighbors. They would not object, nor would anybody else. When a parent is murdered by a son or daughter, crucifixion or decapitation is the punishment. Christmas week a woman was bound to the cross and sliced to death, in this city, for parricide. But "the stubborn and rebellious son," as in Deuteronomy 21, may be stoned or drowned without consulting "the elders of his city." To the protests of the missionaries the father replied, "Do you want him?" "Oh, no! We cannot take him." The stripped and pinioned lad must therefore be cast into the river, like a dog, to drown. These American ladies begged for two days' respite. It was granted. The boy was then brought to them. No longer delay would be granted. If they did not take him, he must die at once. There was no alternative. Papers were drawn, and he became theirs. He soon verified the description given. In his fits of ugliness he acted like a maddened animal. He had been used to flogging, having been tied up by the thumbs.508 One day, when shut up alone, he screamed so loud that the cook took the liberty to insert a gag. Compulsory silence led to willing submission. He began to improve, and to respond to loving approaches. He now goes to church and Sunday school, is quick to learn in his daily studies, and bright and capable in household duties. The better nature strengthens as the old one is suppressed. Surrounded by Christian influences, he bids fair to become a useful, good man. Now and then a tempest comes, but with diminished violence, and sooner followed by calm. Then, as in the response just quoted, the frankness of the lad is seen. He feels that he owes his life to those who rescued him at the last moment, and is trying to serve them faithfully. He also feels kindly towards those brutal kinsmen from whom he was taken. Recent improvements on the building where he lives necessitated the hewing of large timbers. He wished to write to his father, asking him to come and get the chips for fuel. These are hopeful signs. We who know him believe that God may yet make him a chosen vessel. He was "at the bottom of the sea" of heathenism, and can say of God, as did David: "He sent from above, he took me, he drew me out of many waters. He delivered me from . . . . . them which hated me." Do missions pay? Yea, verily, every way. And are not gentleness and love more potent factors in the work of drawing reluctant souls, everywhere, to a better life, than are more drastic methods?—Sunday School Times.