Earlier text: TWO RELIGIOUS SYSTEMSTHE POWER OF SIMPLE CONFIDENCE.
A young man distressed about his soul had confided his difficulties to a friend, who discerned very quickly that he was striving to obtain everlasting life by great efforts. He spoke of "sincere prayers" and "heartfelt desires" after salvation, but continually lamented that he did not "feel any different in spite of it all." His friend did not answer him at first, but presently interrupted him with the inquiry, "Did you ever learn to float?" "Yes, I did," was the surprised reply. "And did you find it easy to learn?" "Not at first," he answered. "What was the difficulty?" his friend pursued. "Well, the fact was I could not lie still; I could not believe or realize that the water would hold me up without any effort of my own, so I always began to struggle, so of course down I went at once." "Then I found out that I must give up all the struggle, and just rest on the strength of the water to bear me up. It was easy enough after that; I was able to lie back in the fullest confidence that I should never sink." "And is not God's word more worthy of your trust than the changeable sea? He does not bid you wait for feelings, he commands you just to rest in him, to believe his word, and accept his gift. His message of life reaches down to you in your place of ruin and death, and his word to you now is, 'The gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.'" Rom. 6:23.—Selected. The Chapel Within
By Jeremy Taylor
No MAN can hinder our private addresses to God; every man can build a chapel in his breast, himself the priest, his heart the sacrifice, and the earth he treads on, the altar.—Jeremy Taylor. THE FOUR GRAINS.
By P. Giddings
FARMER JOHN took out four grains of corn to plant, and began digging holes in which to put them. "What are you digging those holes for?" asked the first grain. "I am going to put you into one of them, and cover you with soil," said the farmer. "Not me, sir!" replied the grain. "It is so very damp and dark under there. I would see no sunlight, nor anything else. Out here I can enjoy seeing all the passers-by, and they, too, can enjoy seeing me. It is so much pleasanter to grow on this dry, sunny surface, that I cannot see your reason for wanting me anywhere else—not to mention that hole. And I am just going to stay here, too." "I am sorry for your decision," said the farmer. "I have cared for and brought up millions and millions of little ones like you in this same manner; but if you choose to reject my plan, you can have your choice." The second grain said, "I, too, will not be hid in a hole. If I am put under the soil, I'll have to waste so much time getting out again. If I stay up here, I can grow so much faster. I do not exactly object to your plan, but it doesn't seem best for me to mingle with such damp and dirty surroundings. I am willing to be planted wherever else you want me, but I cannot go down into that hole. Leave me here." "You can have your choice," said the farmer sadly. The third grain said: "Plant me over there where those thorn bushes grow. I love companions. I shall be lonely here, and I cannot grow alone." "No," said Farmer John; "they are bad companions. They can do you no good, but harm, and harm only. Believe me, my little grain, my plan for you is best." Then the grain pouted and sulked, saying in a self-willed tone, "Over there I'll grow, or die." "Your prediction is sadly true," replied the farmer. "But as, under the circumstances, it would do you no good to plant you here, I shall plant you where you select, that your self-appointed destruction may do the good of being a warning to others." So he planted the grain amongst the vicious thorns. Farmer John seemed sad and cheerless as he looked on the last and only grain. "Where shall I plant you?" he asked. "Put me wherever you will," was the cheery reply. "You know best. I am content to be buried beneath the soil, if that's the best place for me, if thereby I shall grow best and strongest. Your choice is mine." The farmer, pleased and happy that one grain, at least, had confidence in him, placed him quietly in the little hole, and, before covering, kindly whispered, "Meekly wait, and murmur not." The first grain was so foolish and vain that, seeing a bird flying by, he called out, "See what a beautiful grain I am." The bird came to see, and picked him up. He thought it was a kiss, but it was a sacrifice, and so ended the first grain. Poor thing! The second grain thought he had learned a lesson not to call out after birds; so he quietly grew, and because he "had no deepness of earth, forthwith sprung up." He was really happy, and prided himself on his wise choice. He looked toward where the fourth grain was sown, and he saw no sign save the little mound which seemed to be the grave of that grain; and, with a satisfied smile, he said, "Foolish thing; he allowed himself to be buried, and now he is lost forever." The third grain seemed to be growing, but, somehow or other—whether he became tired of his chosen companions I cannot tell—but he became unsatisfied and unhappy. The fact is, he was trying to grow amidst impossibilities. The thorns sucked up the moisture around him, and choked out all the life that was in him, and so he died in the midst of his boon companions. The fourth grain had now made his appearance. He seemed healthy and vigorous. The second grain had already learned that, after all, the fourth grain was only buried that he may rise again to a better life. The second grain was beginning to feel the unpleasant results of hot days. "Aren't you thirsty?" he ventured to ask of the fourth. "No," he replied; "my roots are deep down, and they supply me with all the drink I need. I feel fresh and cool." "I wish I did," said the second. "On the contrary, I am dying of thirst. I wish my roots were as deep down as yours; but now it is too late." And thus he was scorched, and withered away, and died. But the humble grain that was willing to be hidden away continued to send his shoots higher upward, and his roots deeper down. Soon the golden tassel waved in the air, and soon the full-grown corn was in the ear. So much for the grains. Let us apply the lesson, and see what it means. It means you, my little friends, who would have your own way, instead of mother's. When mother speaks, you must, like Jesus, go down—down, though it be to lowly Nazareth—and stay there, too, till duty bids you go elsewhere. It means you, my young friends, who despise lowly duties as beneath your proud dignities. Garfield was, at one time, down as a cabin boy in a ship, but he rose to be chief in the cabinet of the Ship of State. "A haughty spirit before a fall." "A man's pride shall bring him low; but honor shall uphold the humble in spirit." God says they that humble themselves shall be exalted, and they that exalt themselves shall be abased. He means it, and will do it. Take care. It means you, my young friends, who, contrary to your parents' better judgment, select the companionship of worldly pleasure seekers. It is far better to grow and live alone in a country cabin than in a city mansion with worldly companions. Rest assured they will stunt your growth, physically, mentally, and morally. Ah, more, they will choke not only your manhood, but your very life! Beware. It means you, my Christian friends, who ought to visit and cheer those poor neighbors around you, but do not, because they are not of your creed or station. It means you who ought to go, but think Africa too benighted, India too heathen, China too pagan, and all the rest of them too dark in which to be planted. You would be planted in no such holes as those. But there is no place so well calculated for your growth and fruitfulness as the spot where the Master of the vineyard would have us grow. It applies to everyone who names the name of Christ; that same mind which was in the Master should be in the servants. "The servant is not greater than his Master," "who, being in the form of God, counted it not a thing to be grasped to be on an equality with God, but emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, being made in the likeness of men; and being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself." Phil. 2:6-8, Revised Version. From Bethlehem's cradle to Calvary's cross, this was the one continuous lesson that Jesus taught—humility. He might have appeared to the world as a full-grown man, but, he chose to come as a helpless little infant. He might have been born of a queen, but he chose a lowly woman. He might have been born in a palace, but he chose a manger. He might have lived in Jerusalem, but he chose Nazareth. He was not too great to work as a carpenter, nor too learned to associate with fishermen. He was not too great to speak with a despised and outcast Samaritan woman, nor above asking to drink water from her pitcher. He was not above preparing a dinner on coals for his fishermen associates, while they toiled on Galilean water, for, "being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself." Let, therefore, this same "mind be in you which was in Christ Jesus." What is more restful than humility? What grace so silently powerful, attractive, and desirable? Shall we be planted as he was? "For if we have been planted together in the likeness of his death, we shall be also in the likeness of his resurrection." It is not for us to choose the place where we shall grow. The bush in Midian was holy because the Lord was there. Every spot of the Lord's vineyard is holy ground; despise not, therefore, any place where he would have you to be. "Down in a green and shady bed,
A modest violet grew;
Its stalk was bent, it hung its head
As if to hide from view.
"And yet it was a lovely flower,
Its colors bright and fair;
It might have decked a rosier bower,
Instead of hiding there.
"But there it was content to bloom,
In modest tints arrayed,
And there diffused a sweet perfume
Within that silent shade.
"Oh, let me to this valley go,
This pretty flower to see,
That I may also learn to grow
In sweet humility!" What kept the moss a-growing
Through January's snowing?
It knew—oh! never doubt it!—
The blasted tree without it
Would bleaker seem and older
To summer's new beholder. What was the water saying
Beneath the ice roof playing,
Whereon the sunshine listened,
While underneath it glistened?—
"O kingly son, arisen
To loose me from my prison,
I murmur not from grieving—
I sing in thee believing!" What brought the peach buds swelling
From out of their birchen dwelling?—
The song of bluebirds won them;
Fresh music poured upon them,
In bloom is overflowing,
The blush and perfume showing
That life is richer, better,
Joy's never-pardoned debtor. O loving, soul-fresh faces,
Moss of deserted places!
O voices of the chosen,
Through deadliest cold unfrozen!
O lives with beauty brimming,
Glad in the heaven's near hymning!
Ye know the hidden glory;
Who else may tell that story? Grow, sing, and bloom undaunted;
A world so shadow-haunted
Needs all your bursting splendor,
Soft lights, and murmurs tender.
The human want is pressing;
O'ershadow it with blessing,
Your triumph sure believing,
Till hearts shall hush their grieving.
—Lucy Larcom. THE following is said to be a true story, related by a New York physician. We do not know where it was first published. He was called to the help of a man who had been mortally wounded in one of the low dance halls, or dives, of that city. When he had attended to his patient, the doctor looked curiously around. The wounded man lay before the bar, against which lounged some ragged old sots. In the next room a few young men, flushed and bright-eyed, were playing cards, while the gaudily dressed barmaids carried about the liquor. But neither the gamblers nor the drunkards paid any attention to the dying man on the floor. They squabbled and laughed, deaf to his groans. The proprietor of the dive, a burly fellow, who had been a prize fighter in his younger days, having seen the police secure the murderer, had gone quietly to his work of mixing drinks. Death apparently had no interest or terror for these people. Suddenly a little old woman, with white hair, a thin shawl drawn about her, came to the street door. Her appearance produced a startling effect. The besotted old men at the bar put down their glasses, and looked at her uneasily. The card players hastily shut the door, to keep out of sight of her, and the barmaids huddled together in silence. But the change in the brutal landlord was the most striking. He rose hastily and came up to her, an expression of something like terror on his face. "Is Jamie here?" she asked gently. "No, no, he is not here. I do not know where he is," he said hurriedly. She looked about her bewildered. "I was sure he was here. If he comes, will you tell him his mother wants him, sir?" The man urged her out of the door. The physician soon followed, and saw her going into another and another dive and grogshop along the street. "Who is she?" he asked a policeman outside. "Is she in no danger?" The man shook his head significantly. "They'll not harm her, sir. They've done their worst to her. She is the widow of a clergyman, and she had one son, a boy of sixteen years. They lived happily and comfortably enough till he took to going to pool rooms, and then to the variety theaters, and at last to these dives here. "He was killed in one of them, in a fight, three months ago—in that very one you was in just now—and was carried home to her, bloated with drink, and covered with blood, and dead. "She's known nothing since. She only remembers that he came to these houses; and she goes about among them searching for him every day. "They're afraid to see her. They think she brings a curse on them. But they won't harm her. They've done their worst to her." How many sons of loving mothers are going down, like this boy, into these dark places to-day?—Sel. A PICTURE OF HEATHENISM.
By Nora M. Yates
Poojah is the one time in every year, either in September or October, when an image representing the wife of one of the Hindu gods is erected. Her spirit comes on horseback, in answer to the beating of drums, enters this bundle of mud, stones, and sticks, after which, for three days, thousands of people worship before and sacrifice to her. The Hindu worships a creator, a preserver, and a destroyer; and this idol's husband (Durgi) is the destroyer. Wednesday evening Mr. Moore went with us to have a look at the thing. All day long people had passed by the compound, and the beating of drums was constant. The figure itself was built upon a pedestal, and against a very elaborate background. She was life size, had ten arms; one was clasping a spear, which had just been thrust into the heart of her husband, who (in mud and plaster) crouched at her feet; one of her other hands held his hair. A mud tiger was mixed up in the thing, also. The whole was brightly painted, and well lighted up by small bowls of mustard oil, upon which floated a burning wick. Before the image was a little of everything that came into the possession of these people,—beautiful silk cloths, pice, fine fresh fruit, flowers, etc., which had all been offered that day. A regular wild Indian band made the air vocal with its noise. A priest inside the railing was dancing back and forth, keeping time to the dire sounds, and waving the cloths, fruit, and other offerings before her. Incense was burned; people came and went constantly, kneeling before the sacred(?) place; hundreds of women, kept so securely from the vulgar gaze of men on ordinary days, come, with face all covered, kneel before this thing, and go away again to be secluded until next year. All night Wednesday the noise kept up, and the bleating of little kids told us that they were collecting for the bloody sacrifice of Thursday. You know I have told you that the Hindu religion has almost as many castes as the notions of men (not of women, for they do as they are ordered), and while one caste won't kill even an insect, another caste slaughters for remission of sins. At twelve o'clock Thursday sixty goats and kids were killed. A place was arranged just in front of the god, and at one blow the head was severed from the body. The blood was sprinkled over her and the ground all about; the priests took the head, and the men who brought the offering were allowed to have the body. I think I never saw a sight that touched my heart with such pity,—the faces of the hundreds who pressed about,651 seeking remission of sin through the merit of that blood spilt before a bundle of sticks and mud in form of a woman. Mr. Moore sold some books, and talked to several of the priests who stood about. They do not hesitate to say, “Oh, we are educated, and know better; but these ignorant ones must have somebody to offer their requests for them.” And so, for the gain (which is large, for all the pice, rupees, and cloth is theirs, of course), they practice such sinful delusions. What will be their portion on the judgment day? We had breakfast early on Thursday, and from this slaughter-house scene (for so it seemed to me) I went under a little shed, where some of our women were selling fruit and rice, and sitting there, near the highway, distributed tracts and books. Some women came up to have a look at the “white women;” they had never seen me before, and had walked ten miles to come and offer before this god. They said everybody was dying where they were, and to-day they had begged the priest to have Durgi be merciful to them. . . . We went from this place to the market place, and stayed until dark. It seemed to me I never sang, “My Jesus, I love thee, I know thou art mine,” with so much real appreciation as I did that evening, when, after dinner, we waited to ask God's blessing upon the truth taught that day. Oh, you do not imagine how awful is the darkness of idolatry! Friday morning Laura and I went at seven o'clock to speak to the women in the houses. The first place we stopped at a poor woman with a poorer baby in her arms sat outside in the sun; near her crouched another child; all three had fever. We asked her if she had time to see some pictures and hear some words. Her pitiful face looked into ours, and she said, “I can't do anything else; I am too sick to work.” We found sticks to sit upon, and a hoe handle made a fine place to hang the pictures. An audience was not long in finding us. When the children and other women saw our trap and pony in the road, they came very soon. . . . And all over India this sort of thing had been going on for four days, and the messengers of our King, the world's Saviour, were likewise busy. We know these heathen practices are losing ground. God's word is true, and the day is approaching when truth shall reign. I know now as never before that this great mass of paganism feels a want,—a want that is beyond their supply. I never realized the awful darkness of paganism before. So I ask, with more feeling of my need than ever before, that loved ones at home and workers in the churches pray for God's blessing upon the word as it will be read by those who took gospels and tracts. Thousands were distributed.—Nora M. Yates. I REMEMBER once seeing over a public house door in Liverpool; "Good ale is liquid bread." I went into the house and said, "Get me a quart of liquid bread." The landlord said, "Ah, first-rate sign, isn't it?" "Yes," said I, "if it's true." "Oh, it's true enough; my beer is all right!" "Well, give me a bottle to take home." He gave me a bottle of this liquid bread. I took it to Dr. Samuelson, an analytical chemist, and I said to him:— "I want you to tell me how much bread there is in this bottle." He smelled it and said, "It's beer." "No, no," said I, "it's liquid bread." "Well," he said, "if you will come again in a week, I'll tell you all about it." He charged me three guineas. In a week's time I went to know all about the liquid bread. The first thing about it was there was 93 per cent of water. "It's liquid, anyhow," I said; "we'll pass that. Now let us get on to the bread." "Alcohol, five per cent." "What's alcohol?" I said. "There's the dictionary; you can hunt it up for yourself." I hunted it up and found alcohol described as a "powerful narcotic poison." Well, I thought, this is the queerest description of bread I ever read in my life. Then he gave me a number of small percentages of curious things, which he had put carefully down on each corner of a piece of white paper, and which amounted to about a quarter of a thimbleful of dirty-looking powder. That was the bread—two per cent. "And there would not be so much as that," said Dr. Samuelson, "if it were Bass' or Allsopp's. This is bad beer." "So the better the beer the less bread there is in it?" "Certainly. It is the business of the brewer to get the bread out of it, not to put bread into it." This is the simple, scientific truth with regard to beer, and the case is stronger with regard to wine and spirits. There is practically no nourishment in them at all.—Sel. THE six Bibles of the world are, the Koran of the Mohammedans, the Tri Pitikes of the Buddhists, the Five Kings of the Chinese, the Three Vedas of the Hindus, the Zendavesta, and the Scriptures of the Christians. The Koran is the most recent of the five, dating from about the seventh century after Christ. It is a compound of quotations from both the Old and New Testament and from the Talmud. The Tri Pitikes contain sublime morals and pure aspirations. Their author lived and died in the sixth century before Christ. The sacred writings of the Chinese are called the Five Kings, the word "king" meaning web of cloth. From this it is presumed that they were originally written on five rolls of cloth. They contain wise sayings from the sages on the duties of life, but they cannot be traced farther back than the eleventh century before our era. The Vedas are the most ancient books in the language of the Hindus, but do not, according to late commentators, antedate the twelfth century before the Christian era. The Zendavesta of the Persians, next to our Bible, is reckoned among scholars as being the greatest and most learned of the sacred writings. Zoroaster, whose sayings it contains, lived and worked in the twelfth century before Christ; Moses lived and wrote the Pentateuch 1,500 years before the birth of Christ. Therefore, that portion of our Bible is at least three hundred years older than the most ancient of other sacred writings. The Eddas, a semi-sacred work of the Scandinavians, was first given to the world in the fourteenth century.—Christian Work. Learning Through Plainness
By Bishop Wilkins
The greatest learning is to be seen in the greatest plainness. The more clearly we understand anything ourselves the more easily can we expound it to others.—Bishop Wilkins. Philosophy and Peace of Mind
PHILOSOPHY has given us several plausible rules for attaining peace and tranquillity of mind, but they fall very much short of bringing men to it.—Tillotson. "IN HIM WE LIVE, AND MOVE, AND HAVE OUR BEING."
By Jones Very
Father, thy wonders do not singly stand,
Nor far removed, where feet have seldom strayed;
Around us ever lies the enchanted land,
In marvels rich to thine own sons displayed. In finding thee are all things round us found;
In losing thee are all things lost beside;
Ears have we, but in vain sweet voices sound,
And in our eyes the vision is denied. Open our eyes, that we that world may see;
Open our ears, that we thy voice may hear,
And in the spirit land may ever be
And feel thy presence with us always near.
—Jones Very. MR. C. A. MOORE, of Los Angeles, has recently returned from the Cameroons country, on the west coast of Africa, and speaks with much indignation of the brutality and many indignities heaped upon the natives. The Germans, under Leist and Wehlan, he says, are the guilty ones, though the English have sometimes been cruel also. The Cameroons country is now seriously agitating the French Chamber of Deputies, and Lord Rosebery, on the part of the English, has just begun to lay down the law to the Germans. The scramble for the Cameroons will, in Mr. Moore's judgment, lead to greater difficulties. "But anything that can happen," said Mr. Moore, "will be better for the natives than the existing state of affairs under the Germans. They are brutal beyond words. England commenced trading with the Cameroons 150 years ago, and has, by all odds, a better right in the country than the Germans." "The Cameroons are a very proud race, and have a high sense of honor. I remember, five or six years ago, when I first went to the country, that a white trader, an Englishman, violated an agreement with a native. The native was astonished, as were all other natives who heard of it. They thought it was strange that one of so superior a race would forget his honor." "No relief was offered the native, however, and so they all joined together, and refused absolutely to trade any more with the Englishman. The Englishman and his allies were fearful of losing trade, still they did not want to give in. Two weeks were consumed in diplomatic movements, but the Cameroons stood as one man for the right and justice of their cause." "Then the English called up Sir Walter Hewett, and he commanded the natives to drop the matter, and go on trading as before. They wouldn't do it. Two weeks more were consumed, and then the English, who were wrong, and knew they were wrong, gave in to the Cameroons." "Six or eight years ago, when the desire to possess African territory had seized other great nations, the Germans went to Cameroon, and have since literally grabbed up the country. The natives have rebelled, and that is what all the trouble is about. The Germans desire to drive the French out altogether, who have been there some time, and hope to have the English hold off. Neither nation will yield, and before the Germans get through they will, as now indicated, have very little of the Cameroon country." "It is a good country, with much the same resources and tropical growth as other parts of the West Coast, and a few years hence is destined to be very rich. I think especially well of the natives, who have as high a sense of honor as any civilized people I ever saw." —San Francisco Examiner. FROM the annual report of the Baptist Missionary Union, we take the following items:— “In the Bible work the year has witnessed the printing of a new edition of the Telugu New Testament and the revision of the Assamese Bible. In Burma a second edition of the Pwo-Karen Bible is in progress, also a new edition of the Sgau-Karen Bible, plates for which are being made in Boston, and at such small cost that the Bible soon can be put into the hands of every Karen who will read it. “In Burma the new stations of the Shan States at Thibaw and Moné, and among the Kachins at Myitkyina, have been made secure. Marked progress has been made in self-support and education, and a decided evangelistic spirit has developed among the native Christians. Graduates from the theological seminary are gladly offering to go to the regions beyond. “The record of the past year in Assam has been one of steady, quiet progress. Nowhere in all the wide field is there richer promise of harvest than among the hill tribes of this country. “China still remains the stronghold of Satan's dominion in Asia, but, trusting in the divine promises, reënforcements have been sent to this difficult field. Advance stations have been opened in Southern China, and in some of them the reception accorded to the missionaries has been almost phenomenal. The work among the Hakkas gives increasing promise for the future. In Eastern China two new families and three single women have been added to the missionary staff. Steps have been taken towards establishment of a mission in Central China, which are delayed, however, by the state of the treasury. The eleven new missionaries, under the guidance of Mr. Upcraft, have reached their distant home in Suichaufu, in good health, and enter upon their work with much enthusiasm.” The report further states that the work in Japan has been conducted under trying circumstances; yet the missionaries have persevered in evangelizing efforts, in spite of the determined opposition of the anti-foreign party. And in reference to the Kongo country it is stated that the past year has perhaps been one of the most trying in the history of that mission. Three of their most efficient workers died during the year, and “the work still continues to suffer from the terrible ravages of the rum traffic. In fact, the appalling evil, if anything, is on the increase.” In the matter of assisting the work of the society mention is made of one lady who undertook to support a Bible woman, as her own personal gift to the Lord, taking boarders to raise the money. She succeeded so well in this that she afterwards did washing to earn means with which to support a preacher. The above is the title of a new pamphlet just issued in the Bible Students' Library. There has been a demand for a treatise of this kind and we are much pleased to announce this new publication. The following is a brief synopsis of the contents: How Shall We Consider Christ? Is Christ God? Christ as Creator, Is Christ a Created Being? God Manifest in the Flesh, Important Practical Lessons, Christ the Lawgiver, The Righteousness of God, The Lord Our Righteousness, Acceptance with God, The Victory of Faith, Bond Servants and Freemen, Practical Illustrations of Deliverance from Bondage Issued as No. 72 of the Bible Students' Library. Price, 15 cents. Order of any State Tract Society, or PACIFIC PRESS PUBLISHING CO.,
Oakland, Cal.
Or, 43 Bond St., N. Y. This Book treats the subjects of Temperance and Hygiene from a BIBLE STANDPOINT. A good idea of the scope of the work can be formed by a glance at a few of the chapter headings: "Effects of Stimulants," "Extremes in Diet," "Home Education," "Relation of Diet to Health and Morals," "Parental Responsibility," "Dress," "Consulting Spiritualistic Physicians," "Social Purity," "Hope for the Tempted," "Diet and Cleanliness of the Hebrews," "The Gospel of Health," etc., etc. The book contains 268 large pages, is printed on heavy paper, bound in cloth, embossed, with gold title on back and front cover. It is a book that all should have in their homes. Price, marbled edges, $1.25; gilt edges, $1.50. Address, PACIFIC PRESS PUBLISHING CO.,
OAKLAND, CAL.
43 Bond Street, NEW YORK. Of Seventh-day Adventists. This work comprises Reports of the European Missionary Councils of 1883, 1884 and 1885, and a narrative, by Mrs. E. G. White, of her visit and labors in these missions. 296 large pages; paper covers. Price Reduced to 60 Cents, Postpaid. Combined with the Signs of the Times, one year, $2.00. Address, PACIFIC PRESS PUB. CO., Oakland, Cal. THE OUTPOURING OF THE HOLY SPIRIT.
By Ellen G. White
IT is our privilege to take God at his word. As Jesus was about to leave his disciples, to ascend into heaven, he commissioned them to bear the gospel message to all nations, tongues, and peoples. He told them to tarry in Jerusalem until they were endued with power from on high. This was essential to their success. The holy unction must come upon the servants of God. All who were fully identified as disciples of Christ and associated with the apostles as evangelists, assembled together at Jerusalem. They put away all differences. They continued with one accord in prayer and supplication, that they might receive the fulfillment of the promise of the Holy Spirit; for they were to preach the gospel in the demonstration of the Spirit and in the power of God. It was a time of great danger to the followers of Christ. They were as sheep in the midst of wolves, yet they were of good courage, because Christ had risen from the dead, and had revealed himself to them, and had promised them a special blessing which would qualify them to go forth to preach his gospel to the world. They were waiting in expectation of the fulfillment of his promise, and were praying with special fervency. This is the very course that should be pursued by those who act a part in the work of proclaiming the coming of the Lord in the clouds of heaven; for a people are to be prepared to stand in the great day of God. Although Christ had given the promise to his disciples that they should receive the Holy Spirit, this did not remove the necessity of prayer. They prayed all the more earnestly; they continued in prayer with one accord. Those who are now engaged in the solemn work of preparing a people for the coming of the Lord, should also continue in prayer. The early disciples were of one accord. They had no speculations, no curious theory to advance as to how the promised blessing was to come. They were in one faith and spirit. They were agreed. Put away all doubt. Dismiss your fears. Obtain the experience that Paul had when he exclaimed, "I am crucified with Christ; nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me." Surrender everything to Christ, and let your life be hid with Christ in God. Then you will be a power for good. One shall chase a thousand, and two put ten thousand to flight.—Gospel Workers.