Seventh-day Adventist Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Jul 12, 1883
General Articles.
By Ellen G. White
Luther Before the Pope's Legate.
BY MRS. E. G. WHITE.
UPON arriving at Augsburg, Luther immediately informed the pope's legate that he was in the city. The legate heard the news with joy. He felt assured that the troublesome heretic who was setting the whole world astir was now in his power, and determined that he should not leave Augsburg as he had entered.
The legate's attendant, an Italian courtier of insinuating manners, flattered himself that it would be an easy matter to bring the Reformer to a proper position. He therefore called upon him with professions of great friendship, and gravely gave him instruction in etiquette, thinking thus to inspire him with awe for the great man before whom he was to appear. He urged Luther to accompany him immediately to the presence of the legate; but Luther calmly stated that he must first obtain his safe-conduct.
Irritated at his ill success, the wily Italian exclaimed, "When all men forsake you, where will you take refuge?" "Under Heaven," answered the Reformer, looking reverently upward.
Luther soon received his safe-conduct, and prepared to appear before the legate. On receiving information of the fact, this dignitary was somewhat perplexed to decide what course to pursue with a man of so determined character, and he consulted his friends in regard to the matter. One was decided in the opinion that he should be made to retract; another, that he be arrested and imprisoned. A third boldly advised that he be put out of the way, while a fourth recommended that an attempt be made to win him over by gentleness. It was decided to adopt the last advice as the safest.
At his first interview with the Reformer, the legate was reserved, but civil. He expected Luther to yield every point without argument or question, and waited in silence for him to begin his recantation.
Luther stated that he appeared before the legate in response to the summons of the pope, and declared himself a humble and obedient son of the holy Christian church. Then he proceeded to the point at issue: "I acknowledge that it was I who published the propositions and theses that are the subject of inquiry. I am ready to listen with all submission to the charges brought against me, and if I am in error, to be instructed in the truth."
The legate commended Luther's humility, and at once made known what was expected of him: "First, you must return to your duty. You must acknowledge your faults, and retract your errors, your propositions, and sermons. Secondly, you must promise to abstain from propagating your opinions. And thirdly, you must engage to be more discreet, and avoid everything that may grieve or disturb the church."
Luther asked to see the credentials of the cardinal, showing his authority to settle the matter. He was refused, and was told that he had only to renounce his errors, and the cardinal would make all right with the church.
Luther then asked to be informed wherein he had erred. With an air of condescension, the cardinal made answer: "Two propositions are put forward by you that you must, before all, retract. First, the treasure of indulgences does not consist of the merits and sufferings of our Lord Jesus Christ. Secondly, the man who receives the holy sacrament must have faith in the grace offered to him." If generally received, these propositions would be fatal to the commerce of Rome, overturning the tables of the money-changers, and driving out of the temple those who made merchandise of the grace of salvation.
The legate had promised to abide by the testimony of the Scripture; but notwithstanding this he applied to the constitution of the popes in favor of indulgences. Luther declared that he could not accept such constitutions as sufficient proofs on subjects so important; "for they wrest the Holy Scriptures, and never quote them to the purpose." The legate retorted, "The pope has authority and power over all things." "Save the Scriptures," answered Luther earnestly. "Save the Scriptures!" echoed the legate in derision, and he asserted that the pope was higher than councils, and that all who dared to question his authority would receive their deserts.
Concerning the second proposition, which affirmed the necessity of faith in order to grace, Luther stated that to yield that point would be to deny Christ. Said he, "I cannot, therefore, and I will not yield that point, and, by God's help, I will hold it to the end."
The legate replied angrily, "Whether you will or not, you must this very day retract that article, or else, for that article alone, I will proceed to reject and condemn all your doctrines."
Luther answered, "I have no will but the Lord's. He will do with me what seemeth good in his sight. But had I a hundred heads, I would rather lose them all than retract the testimony I have borne to the holy Christian faith."
"I am not come here to argue with you," answered the prelate. "Retract, or prepare to endure the punishment you have deserved." Thus ended the first interview.
The second conference was held on the following day, and attended by many persons of high position. Before this assembly, Luther read a declaration expressing his regard for the church, his desire for the truth, his readiness to answer all objections to what he had taught, and to submit his doctrines to the decision of certain leading universities. At the same time he protested against the cardinal's course in requiring him to retract, without having proved him in error.
The legate's response was, "Recant, recant." He overwhelmed Luther with a perpetual torrent of words, giving him no opportunity to reply. The Reformer therefore begged that he might present in writing his answer to the two charges, the one touching indulgences, and the other respecting faith. The request was reluctantly granted.
In the third interview, Luther submitted his answer, in which he showed that his position was sustained by the Scriptures, and firmly declared that he could not renounce the truth. The legate treated Luther's declaration with little short of contempt. He scolded and thundered incessantly, leaving Luther, as at the preceding interview, no opportunity for reply. With vehement assertions and repeated reference to the papal constitution, he continued to maintain the doctrine of indulgences and to call on Luther to retract.
The Reformer at last declared that if the principle which was claimed as the very foundation of the doctrine of indulgences, could be proved from the papal constitution itself, he would retract. All were startled at this proposition. The friends of Luther were alarmed and embarrassed. The legate and his sustainers could hardly contain their joy. But their rejoicing was quickly turned to confusion. Luther met the cardinal on his own ground, and triumphed completely.
When the wily prelate saw that Luther's reasoning was unanswerable, he lost all self-control, and in a rage cried out: "Retract, or I will send you to Rome, there to appear before the judges commissioned to take cognizance of your case. I will excommunicate you and all your partisans, and all who shall at any time countenance you, and will cast them out of the church. Full power has been given me for this purpose by the holy apostolic see. Think you that your protectors will stop me? Do you imagine that the pope can fear Germany? The pope's little finger is stronger than all Germany put together."
"Condescend," replied Luther, "to forward the written answer I have given you to Pope Leo X., with my most humble prayers." In a haughty and angry tone, the cardinal replied, "Retract, or return no more."
Luther bowed, and retired with his friends, leaving the cardinal and his supporters to look at one another in utter confusion at the unexpected result of the discussion. The cardinal and the Reformer never met again.
Luther's efforts on this occasion were not without good results. The large assembly present at the conference had opportunity to compare the two men, and to judge for themselves of the spirit manifested by them, as well as of the strength and truthfulness of their position. How marked the contrast! Luther, simple, upright, firm, stood up in the strength of God, having truth on his side; the pope's representative, self-important, overbearing, haughty, and unreasonable, was without a single argument from the word of God, yet vehemently crying, "Retract, or be sent to Rome for punishment." Yet the legate was deeply impressed by his interviews with the Reformer, and he afterward changed his own views, and himself retracted his errors.
Luther remained in Augsburg but a few days after his last meeting with the cardinal. Before leaving the city, however, he drew up a respectful letter to the legate, stating that it was useless for him to prolong his stay, as he had been denied a further hearing unless he should retract. "Thus I again set out in the name of the Lord, desiring to find some place where I may live in peace." He closes by stating that he had committed no crime, and ought therefore to have nothing to fear. This letter was intrusted to his friends, who after his departure delivered it to the legate.302Luther set out from Augsburg at night, on horseback, and accompanied only by a guide furnished him by the magistrate. With many forebodings he secretly made his way through the dark and silent streets of the city. Enemies, vigilant and cruel, were plotting his destruction. Would he escape the snares prepared for him? Those were moments of anxiety and earnest prayer. He reached a small gate in the wall of the city. It was opened for him, and with his guide he passed through without hindrance. Now they were beyond the limits, and putting their horses to a full gallop, they soon left the city far behind them. Satan and his emissaries were defeated. The man whom they had thought in their power was gone, escaped as a bird from the snare of the fowler.
THE RESURRECTION
By A. T. Gorham
AWAKE and sing, ye prisoned hosts!
Arise and shine, O fair immortals!
The life-light pierces death's dark coasts,
And hades opes her sunless portals.
Spring from the dust with loud acclaim,
And shout the glad triumphal story!
Let ransomed tongues rehearse His fame,
Who crowns Love's deathless years with glory.
Wave, wave your palms of vict'ry high!
Shout! shout! the long, dark night is over!
Let rapturous anthems fill the sky,
And greet with song the Bridegroom Lover!
He comes! His chariot rolls in flame,
And jarring thunders lift their voices;
Hide, scoffer, hide thy brow of shame,
While every faithful heart rejoices.
Ten thousand, thousand seraphs bright
In robes of beauty bow before Him,
While all the pageantry of light
And pomp of Heaven linger o'er Him.
Swift lightnings leap athwart his path;
Fierce tempests wave their murky banners;
He comes in judgment—clouds of wrath—
Go forth and meet Him with hosannas!
And thou, pale phantom—potent Death,
With whom earth's sons have vainly striven,
All hurtless now thy with'ring breath—
Thy charnel-house to ruins riven!
In grandeur swing, O gates of joy,
Whose portals time shall close—ah, never!
No sin shall mar, nor foe destroy,
While glowing ages roll forever!
—A. T. Gorham.
Rutland, Vt.
Nature of the Soul.
By J. H. Waggoner
It is said that if the soul be "a simple, pure, uncompounded, unorganized entity or substance," then it must be indestructible and necessarily immortal. But who knows that such is the nature of the soul? It is a sheer assumption, without one particle of evidence to sustain it. The argument that is founded on it amounts simply to this: If the soul be indestructible, it is indestructible. If it is immortal, it is immortal. But the assumption leads to a broader conclusion than this. The logical mind of Plato saw it, and therefore he concluded that the soul, if such be its nature, could have had no beginning, as well as, will have no end. That man, so far as his soul is concerned, is an uncreated being; that when a child is born, a soul enters his body, and when he dies, it goes out again, either to enter some other body, or to exist in a ghostly state forever; and that the number of such souls, is eternally the same, neither being increased by new births, nor diminished by death. But Christian men, who cannot but admit that God created man, and that he has a definite beginning, by rejecting the former part of this conclusion, vitiate the latter part; because both parts must go together. For it is evident, that what had a beginning, may have an end; what has been created, may be uncreated. If the soul of man is not of such a nature as to exclude the idea of its creation, it certainly is not of such a nature as to save it from destruction.
But granting the assumption, that the soul is "a simple, pure, uncompounded, unorganized substance or entity," and that it has a beginning, the question arises: When is that beginning? Are souls made beforehand and kept in readiness to meet human demand? or are they made to order, and put into the child's body at birth, or at some period before or after its birth? We press this question upon those, who hold that the soul is an entity separate and separable from the body, and independent of it. It is not an idle question, but one that is important for them to consider. If they are unable to answer it, let them tell us, at least, if they can, whether it be a full-grown, mature, responsible soul, at the outset, or does it grow in strength and maturity and responsibility with the body. The former supposition would be fatuous, and lead to the absurd conclusion that new-born infants are equally responsible for their moral exercises and acts with adults. If they take the latter supposition, then, we would ask them, why the soul may not fall, as well as rise with the body? How can they show that the soul does not follow the fortunes of the body, but is independent of it.
Let them show us how it is possible for such a "simple, pure, uncompounded, unorganized entity" as they suppose the soul to be, to carry on all the varied and complex operation of thought, feeling, and action within the body and independent of it; or, at least, let them show us that this is possible.
If they shall admit that the soul is, or may be an organism, then it may be disorganized, and, like all other organisms, its functional action ceases when this organism shall be broken up.
But if they still insist that the soul is a "simple, unorganized entity," they must admit that a bodily organism is necessary to the exercise of its functions. If the soul had no conscious life or activity until it was united with the body; what evidence is there to show that it can maintain its individual life, and fulfill its functions, after the bodily organization is destroyed? There is every evidence possible in the nature of the case, to show that the body is as necessary to the soul, as the soul is to the body; and that they are mutually dependent on each other. An injury to the brain, through which the soul is supposed to act, effects the soul, in the same degree; it may cause insanity; it may cause insensibility for a time; it may cause death. Is it reasonable to suppose that while any injury to the brain that is not fatal, injuriously affects the soul, a fatal injury does not injuriously affect its consciousness and activity at all, but only gives it greater freedom of action and of feeling?
The fact is, the whole argument for immortality founded on the nature of the soul, rests upon a pure assumption, and this constitutes the only difficulty there is in meeting it. Indeed, it can only be a waste of words between us and those who hold it, until they shall establish their postulate by some show of reason.
It is said that Franklin proposed to the Savants of France this question, Why the weight of a vessel of water should not be increased by putting a fish into it? After arguing the question for a long time and giving many weighty reasons for their various views, some one proposed to try the experiment, and see if such were the fact. It was then discovered that their arguments were all worthless; for the supposition itself was false. And so it is with arguments in regard to the immortality of the soul founded on the supposition that it is "a pure, simple, uncompounded, unorganized entity." Let them show that such is the nature of the soul, or, at any rate, tell us what the nature of the soul is before they challenge us to show that the conclusion, or rather the half of the conclusion, they are willing themselves to adopt is false.
The late President Dwight, of Yale College, in his Sermons, Vol. 1, p. 163, says:—
"Among Christians, I know of but one who has regarded the immortality of the soul as susceptible of demonstration. Should we believe with this ingenious writer, that the soul, metaphysically considered, is so formed, as naturally to be immortal, we must still acknowledge, because it cannot be denied, that its existence may terminate at death or at any other supposable period. Whatever has been created can certainly be annihilated by the power which created it. The continuance of the soul must therefore depend absolutely on the will of God. But that will can never be known, by creatures, unless he is pleased to disclose it. Without revelation, therefore, the immortality of the soul must be entirely uncertain."
We may add to what has been so truly said, we never knew one man even, who was able to demonstrate the immortality of the soul from the Scriptures, or to point to one text in all the Bible that asserted or even hinted at any such doctrine. But there are hundreds of texts, as we have shown, that assert the contrary, and as many more, that expressly declare that immortality is the special gift of God and only received by a new birth.
But it should be remembered, that our inquiry is concerning man himself, and not concerning any one or more of the various parts of which he is supposed to be made up. The physical, or material elements that enter into his composition, when they shall be separated by death, may continue to exist in their elemental state, or may enter into other combinations, and so continue, under one form or another, to exist forever. Indeed, we have no evidence that any elemental substance is ever annihilated. The same may be said of the spiritual elements, or living forces that enter into his composition, they may well be supposed to exist forever under some form or condition or other, we know not what; nor need we stop to inquire, for our inquiry does not relate to these elements, however many or few they may be; but to the composite man. Is he immortal—the sensitive, thinking, conscious, active, responsible creature that he is—is he immortal, mortal?
The fact is, this Platonic philosophy has thrown this whole subject into confusion. It has led us off, into inquiries concerning one part of man and has taught us to ignore the main question concerning the destiny of man himself. We have come to speak of the soul of man, and to reason about it, as though it were something distinct from the man himself; and ministers preach about it, as though it had a character and destiny of its own, and that this is all that is worth considering. But this is neither consistent with the teachings of science, nor of reason, nor of revelation. Science regards man as an integer; though he is a complex and composite creature, yet he is one creature and not two or more. So does law, both human and divine; and so does the gospel. It was upon the whole man that God laid his original prohibition—"In the day that thou eatest thereof thou must surely die." It was the whole man that sinned and fell. It was the whole man that came under the sentence of death—"Dust thou art and unto dust shalt thou return." It is the whole man that was redeemed, and is to be raised, and judged and saved or destroyed. This is the question which we most need to have answered; the question that Job asked, "If a man die shall he live again," and shall he live forevermore? And no answer can be given to it, either by reason or in nature. It is only answered in the word of God, and it is for this very purpose that a divine revelation has been given to us—to tell us of the life everlasting and the way of attaining it. Why, then, should we betake ourselves blindly to heathen oracles, or to the oracles of the wisest of men, whose wisdom God has declared to be foolishness, when "we have a more sure word of prophecy"? Unto this "we do well to take heed as unto a light that shineth in a dark place."
—From "Life Everlasting," by Prof. Pettingell.
Singular for Christ's Sake.
By Spurgeon
If you follow Christ fully, you will be sure to be called by some ill name or other. For, first, they will say, "How singular you are!" "Mine heritage," says God, "is unto me as a speckled bird; the birds round about are against her." If you become a true Christian, you will soon be a marked man. They will say, "How odd he is!" "How singular she is!" They will think that we try to make ourselves remarkable, when, in fact we are only conscientious, and are endeavoring to obey what we think to be the word of God. Oftentimes that is the form of contempt; practical Christians are set down as intentionally eccentric and willfully odd.
Mothers have brought that charge against daughters who have been faithful to Christ, because they would not go into gayety or indulge in vain apparel, and many a man has said it to his fellow-men by way of accusation, "You must be different from anybody else." This difference, which God has made a necessity, men treat as a mere whim of their own. If we do not come out from among them and be separate, we cannot expect to be housed beneath the wings of the Eternal; but if we do, we may reckon upon being regarded by those around us as strange, unfriendly creatures.—Spurgeon.
"Our Bairn that's Deein."
The late Dr. James Hamilton had a capital illustration of how general prayers and "oblique sermons" fail to satisfy the soul in the emergencies of life. A Scotchman who had but one prayer was asked by his wife to pray by the bedside of their dying child. The good man struck out on the old track, and soon came to the usual petition for the Jews. As he went on with the time-honored quotation, "Lord, turn again the captivity of Zion," his wife broke in, saying: "Eh! mon, you're aye drawn out for the Jews; but it's our bairn that's deein!" Then clasping her hands, she cried: "Lord, help us, or give us back our darling if it be thy holy will; and if he is to be taken, oh, take him to thyself." That woman knew how to pray, which was more than her husband did. And in her prayer she honestly poured out her heart's needs before God.
An "oblique sermon" is not a prayer. An audible meditation or a doctrinal dissertation is not a prayer. Telling the Lord a hundred things he knows better than we do is not prayer. If persons who lead in prayer had as vivid a conception of what they want, and as earnest a desire to get it, as this poor woman, there would not be so many complaints about long prayers as there are now. -Selected.
Do Not Refer to Gifts
NEVER refer to a gift you have made or a favor you have rendered.
Best Evidence of Christianity.
THE best evidence of Christianity is the personal test of experience, and the contact of Christ and his word. "Come and see," was Christ's answer to the honest inquirer, and as they came and saw where he dwelt, they were able to go back and say, "We have found the Messiah, the Christ." This brings not conviction only, but conversion. Two typical cases recently occurred under the direct observation of the writer: An intelligent lawyer called one evening for the purpose of investigating the claims of Christianity as he would a case before a jury. He said he was not a believer but was unprejudiced and willing to be convinced. He felt that the Christian religion ought to be as susceptible of proof as a case of human evidence. He was frankly met, and at once referred to the fact of Christ's resurrection as the Scriptural foundation of the Christian faith. With keen severity he cross-examined every point in the evidence of that event, and after a conversation extending over two hours, he withdrew, having noted down every legal point in the case, taking with him as a fuller guide to the details of the argument the chapter on the subject in "Bushnell's Nature and the Supernatural," and promising to return when he had made up his mind, and report the result. In two weeks he returned, and with great seriousness and frankness said, "I have examined this case as I would any case of evidence, and I am satisfied beyond all doubt that Christianity is true; and the evidence is stronger by far than that on which innumerable lives have been condemned to death in courts of law"; "but," he added, "I wish you to understand distinctly that while I am now a believer in Christianity, I am not any more a Christian than before, nor am I even an inquirer." Alas! he discovered that his unbelief was not so much in his head as in his heart, and that his real alienation from God was not to be removed by rational evidence or intellectual convictions. Often in after years was the tender and solemn appeal made and renewed, pressing him to take to his heart the Saviour he had admitted to his logic, but the result was always the same. Here was the cold, clear light of conviction, but none of the warmth of trust and love.
Shortly afterwards another case occurred, strangely different. Another lawyer, more bright and gifted than the first, sent for the writer, and, on meeting him, began at once to speak of his recent experience. "I have just got faith," he said, "and it has come to me so strangely that I want to tell you about it. For years I was a skeptic, reading everything on the subject of Christianity, and sometimes giving the weight of evidence to the one side, sometimes to the other, but never quite able to hold both in the firm grasp of my mind at once, and balance the evidence so as to form an abiding conclusion. And so I drifted between doubt and probability, like a helmless wreck in the tossing waves of uncertainty. At length I married a Christian wife. Every night she read with me her Bible and prayed, and I tacitly assented, more from love to her than any real interest. But all the while I saw in her something which I did not possess, and which was worth more than all my intellectual superiority. One short year we lived together, and then she died. More than ever, in these last sufferings, did I see the reality and value of her faith, and when I found myself alone—stunned with grief, and without one prop on earth to cling to—I found myself also, without even thinking why, instinctively crying out in my agony to her God for help and comfort. Instantly I felt the answer. Before I had time to reason whether I believed or not, my heart had cried in its orphanage, and had heard the answering heart of God. And that touch of love and comfort was so sweet and real that I just kept on praying, and the same answer has ever come, and I know it is God; so that now you see I have got faith, I hardly know how. But I know it is faith, and I know it is true, and that is enough for me." Yes, he had sought for God where alone God ever can meet man, "in spirit and in truth," in the simplicity of the heart, in the attitude not of the proud censor, but the helpless child and the penitent sinner. In both these cases the unbelief was not intellectual, but moral. In the one case conviction came, but without conversion; in the other, conversion brought conviction. When will men cease to strain their weary eyes toward a cold and lofty region where the Father is not found, and simply turn to the cradle of Bethlehem, the cross of Calvary, the footstool of simple, lovely penitence, to find Him who has Himself said: "I dwell with him that is humble, and of a contrite heart, and that trembleth at my word." Sir James Simpson has summed up a volume in one sentence of his spiritual biography, where he has said, substantially: "I sought for God in lofty reasonings and learned philosophy, but I never found him until I just came as a little bairn."—The Word, the Work, and the World.
What Counts in the Kingdom
As IT is not the money that we make but the money that we keep which makes us rich, so it is not the souls that are gathered in, but the souls that continue in the grace of God that count in the kingdom.—National Baptist.
Promise of the Spirit.
By Editor
BIBLE truth is plain and consistent; but the traditions of men have obscured all the teachings of the divine word. There is not a duty nor a promise but somebody has risen up against, either to nullify or to change. The promise of the gifts of the Spirit, which God set in the church, is almost unmistakable in its import and extent, yet when men have grieved the Spirit, quenched it, as the apostle expresses, they find it more consistent with their feelings, with the pride of their heart, to reason away the promise than to humble themselves and seek the Spirit's aid and power. In the April number of the Baptist Teacher the editor, Dr. P. S. Henson, makes some remarks worthy of careful consideration. The subject of the lesson was the healing of Æneas; Acts 9: 33–35.
EDITOR SIGNS.
"Why cannot we perform such miracles?—This is a question that naturally arises in every thoughtful Christian mind. The ordinary answer is that these signs and wonders were intended to subserve an important, but only temporary, purpose; that they were like the cords and props by which a young tree, newly planted, is steadied in its place, till there has been time for the roots to anchor in the ground; that miracles of healing were needful then to authenticate the divinity of Christianity, because there had not been scope enough for that larger demonstration that is furnished by Christian civilization, and that noble spectacle of whole nationalities lifted up by it into light and liberty.
"All this is plausible and forcible—and may be true. And yet when our Saviour commissioned his disciples just before his ascension, and sent them forth to preach the gospel to every creature, and assured them that he would be with them always, even to the end, he indicated that his presence with them and his power would be evinced by signs and wonders which they should work in his name. There is no intimation anywhere that this form of demonstration was presently to be suspended, and it may be a question as to whether the Christian world has not, only too readily, concluded that such things are no longer possible.
"We cannot disguise from ourselves the fact that we have fallen upon an era of materialistic, almost atheistic, philosophy—an age of Sadduceeism, when a very large proportion of men no longer believe 'in angel or spirit,'—an age in which, one might suppose, some such demonstration as was witnessed in the primitive times might be useful in arresting the surges of 'current infidelity.' If needed then, and given just because it was needed, may it not be needed now, and may it not be given now, if the Lord's people have faith enough in Elijah's God to ask and look for it?
"It is worthy of remark that in our day there has arisen a class of most devout men—and the class is constantly increasing—who believe that such works of supernatural power as were performed by the earlier Christians are not only possible, but have actually been wrought in our time.
"They are commonly regarded by their brethren as fanatical; and yet it may be that 'the secret of the Lord is with them,' and that they may have more of the mind of the Spirit, and are more in the line of God's march, than some of us who have been disposed to smile at their supposed 'credulity.' The Lord God of Elijah still sits upon the throne of Heaven."
Couldn't Find the Text
The Examiner's Virginia correspondent relates the following story of John Leland, one of the early Baptist preachers of that section:—
“In colonial times Leland was once benighted in a strange part of the country, and asked leave to spend the night at a house on the road. He was hospitably entertained by the good people of the house, who belonged to the Established Church of England, and knew nothing of any ministers except those of the church, and hence took it for granted that Mr. Leland was an Episcopal clergyman. The gentleman and lady of the house were inclined to boast of their uncommon familiarity with the contents of the Bible. During the evening the lady said, ‘Mr. Leland, I am so glad you have come; for we have a child that has not yet been baptized. Won't you baptize him to-morrow morning?’ ‘Certainly,’ said Leland, ‘if the proper arrangements can be made.’ The gentleman of the house then said, ‘Mr. Leland, will you not preach for us to-morrow? We can soon notify the neighbors, and get a congregation for you.’ Leland consented. The next morning the people assembled, and Leland preached. After the sermon the bowl of water was brought for the ‘baptism.’ Leland handed the Bible to the gentleman of the house, and said, ‘Please turn to the passage that enjoins the ordinance of baptizing infants. I like to read the authority when I baptize.’ The gentleman took the book, and searched for some time, and then returned it, saying, ‘I don't see the passage, Mr. Leland; but my wife is more familiar with the Bible than I am. Perhaps she can find it.’ ‘Very well,’ said the preacher; ‘let her find it, while I prepare for the administration of the ordinance.’ The lady searched a good while; but at last said, ‘Mr. Leland, I don't see that passage. You had better turn to it yourself!’ ‘Why, madam,’ said Leland, ‘I've been looking for that passage for thirty years, and have never seen it yet. I suppose we may as well give up this business.’ So he went on his way, leaving his Majesty's subjects still looking for the text, which has not even yet been found.”
The Believer's Victory.
By W. L. Parsons
SATAN will, if possible, awaken a practical unbelief in respect to the feasibility of living a triumphantly victorious life while in the flesh. How few persons really expect, habitually, to overcome the world! They know they are to be tempted and believe the tempter will triumph over them. They magnify the power of the adversary, they dwell upon the peculiar difficulties of their case, and are afraid to venture upon the Deliverer with a full confidence that he will make them conquerors indeed, by his own power. They fear to make the promises their own; they forget the covenant and the oath of the Redeemer; they lose sight of the "strongholds"—the altar and the mercy-seat—and have no heart to insist, "By these, the victory is mine, now and forever!" Thus they are full of a subtle unbelief, into which Satan has inveigled them. They have bowed their necks to the yoke of bondage, which they expect to wear all their lives, looking to their own death, at last, for deliverance, instead of looking now to Christ for a power to break their yoke, and to put them into "the glorious liberty of the children of God." So unbelieving has the church been, that it has often been deemed a heresy to hold that a practical victory over "the world, the flesh, and the devil" is even possible to the Christian.—Rev. W. L. Parsons, D. D.
SALMON AND SERMON
Those who have inadequate views of their responsibility in preparing to preach the gospel, ought to be impressively reminded of their failure in this respect, as was a moderate minister, who was a keen fisher, when he said to Dr. Andrew Thompson: "I wonder you spend so much time on your sermons with your ability and ready speech. Many's the time I've written a sermon and killed a salmon before breakfast," to which saying Dr. Thompson replied, "Well, sir, I'd rather have eaten your salmon than listened to your sermon."
Christians Like Flowers in a Garden
By John Bunyan
CHRISTIANS are like the several flowers in a garden, that have on each of them the dew of heaven, which being shaken with the wind, they let fall at each other's roots, whereby they are jointly nourished and become nourishers of each other.—Bunyan.