Earlier text: LESSON SIXReligious Self-Deception.
By John H. Waggoner
The fifty-eighth chapter of Isaiah has special reference to these times, and is, in all respects, very interesting to us. It opens with a two-fold description of a certain class of worshipers. Viewing them only in the light of one of these descriptions we should be forced to admit they are a truly devoted and God fearing people, and accepted with the Lord. Notice what the Lord says of them:— 1. They worship God. “They seek me,” says the Lord. Such would scorn to worship idols. They pity the heathen; and their conscience would not permit them to renounce their profession of Christianity. 2. They are diligent worshipers. “They seek me daily,” says the Lord. This is a mark which every Christian should bear. 3. They are intelligent worshipers. They “delight to know my ways.” They are pleased to learn the doctrines of the Bible, and are diligent to attend the preaching of the word. Another good mark of Christian character. 4. They are cheerful worshipers. “They take delight in approaching to God.” They are not driven to their worship. It needs no arm of authority, no urgent appeals, to keep them in the way of their devotions. It is a pleasant path to them, in which they take delight. After reading such a description as this, and noting in them so many marks of true Christians, and marks in which so many professors are lacking, it is sad to be compelled to admit that the very people so described are self-deceived and hypocritical. There is another view of them which gives them quite a different appearance from the above. 1. A call is made to show them their transgressions and their sins. They are sinners, transgressors of God's law. They draw near to God with their lips while their hearts are in the world. They cry, Lord, Lord, but do not his will. They love an easy religion, which does not cross their selfishness; which leads to no self-denial. 2. They seek God only “as a nation that did righteousness.” Says an apostle, “He that doeth righteousness is righteous.” The religion in which they delight consists in profession, prayer, church going, and that which is no deeper than feelings or emotions. The weightier matters of the law they neglect. Though the Scriptures say, “He that turneth away his ear from hearing the law, even his prayer shall be abomination,” they will not listen to it, nor reflect on its meaning or application. They profess to delight in “gospel liberty”—freedom to choose their own path. They are afraid of “legal bondage,” as they call obedience to the commandments of God. Truly they are but “as a nation that did righteousness.” 3. They have forsaken the ordinance of their God. What the ordinance is which they have forsaken we learn by reading this chapter. Two prominent faults are marked against them; they do not do righteousness, and they have forsaken the ordinance of God. In verses 4-12 their shortcomings are particularly noticed, and exhortations to certain duties are given, whereby their light should spring up and their righteousness should abound. In verses 13, 14, the ordinance of God is pointed out which they have forsaken. “If thou turn away thy foot from the Sabbath;” they are trampling the Sabbath under their feet. A horrible abuse of that which Jehovah so highly honored; from doing thy pleasure on my holy day; they have profaned the holy day, and degraded that which is sacred to the Lord to make it minister to their own carnal pleasures; “and call the Sabbath a delight, the holy of the Lord, honorable;” the holy day of God has been no delight to them. In the expressive language of the prophet, they “have snuffed at it.” Every feature has been expressive of scorn when the Sabbath is mentioned. It is not honorable in their esteem. Instead of calling it a delight, the holy of the Lord, honorable, they have derided it and all who observe it, stigmatizing it as “the old Jewish Sabbath,” and “a yoke of bondage.” They have departed very far from “the right ways of the Lord,” while professing to be his servants. 4. They do not understand why their fasts have not been seen of the Lord, and why their prayers are not answered. The Lord shows them that the fault is in their own lives. If they will work righteousness as well as pray; if they will “honor him” in his own sacred institution which commemorates his work of creation, then will their “light rise in obscurity,” and they shall “delight themselves in the Lord,” not merely in their own form of worship. Here God shows that his honor is concerned in the observance of the Sabbath, and they who dishonor him he will lightly esteem. Here is a lesson of warning to all. It is a faithful description of the superficial religion of the age. And it shows how fearfully strong is self-deception. It will admit of our wearing the garb of Christianity, of making a great profession, and of working ourselves up to a feeling of delight in worship. With all this our profession may be that of the Pharisee, and all our worship vain. “The heart is deceitful;” we should not trust it, but constantly compare ourselves with the divine standard. “Who can understand his errors,” asked the psalmist; and the only means of a correct understanding of them is given in the same psalm: “The testimony of the Lord is sure, making wise the simple. The commandment of the Lord is pure, enlightening the eyes.” Examination of self, and meditation on the word of God, are much needed to keep us from thoughtlessly going astray. How greatly we need to keep ourselves in the love of God, and under the direction of his Spirit. “Lord, let not all my hopes be vain;
Create my soul entirely new.
Let thy sweet Spirit me sustain;
Oh! guide me all my journey through.” Voices of the Advent.
By D. T. Taylor
COLLECTED BY D. T. TAYLOR. “The news of his coming I hear,
And join in the catholic cry;
O Jesus, in triumph appear,
Appear in the clouds of the sky.”
—C. Wesley. “The sum of all human longings, all Christian hope, all divine promise, (is) in the cry, Come, Lord Jesus.”—Prof. John Peter Lange. “The Christians of the earliest age were always looking forward. Christ’s coming was the controlling and encouraging thought of their daily life.”—Howard Crosby, D. D. LL. D. “The conviction that the time is short deepens in our souls. The sure word of prophecy leaves little room to doubt this: The Lord is at hand.”—Rev. Henry Grattan Guinness. “We are living in the very age toward which all eyes have been directed as those of the closing days of the church’s conflict, as long ago as the time of Luther.”—Rev. Samuel Garratt. “I believe he is yonder getting his guest-chamber ready, and the moment it is ready, those clouds shall roll away and he shall come, and we shall be caught up together to meet the Lord in the air. So there may be some in this audience who may never taste death.”—Dwight L. Moody. “The Scriptures teach the church to look to the coming of the Lord as the day of her completeness and triumph. It will be our Jubilee year.”—Rev. John Hall, D. D. “I would as soon relinquish all hope of salvation and of Heaven and immortality, as give up the expectation of seeing the Saviour in person on earth, just as his disciples last saw him near Bethany. Surrender the second advent of the Messiah? NEVER! It is THE one sublime event.”—Rev. G. W. Bosworth, D. D. “Let it be constantly borne in mind in the investigation of the whole subject, that, according to divine arrangement, the advent precedes the millennium, and the beginning of the millennium rapidly succeeds the end of this age, and the terrific judgments that accompany and succeed the advent.”—Dr. J. T. Barclay. “In the Scriptures, the constant note, the continually occurring exhortation, is to be prepared for the Lord’s coming.”—Dean Henry Alford. “How many editors or preachers are writing or speaking of the second coming of Christ? It is a solemn and sublime truth; it was the constant utterance of Paul, and yet these good and wise men let it alone. Truly religious people are asleep in relation to the momentous fact that he is coming.”—Rev. George R. Kramer. “The Lord himself is coming personally the second time to earth—not at death, but at the harvest time, the end of the world. This is the good hope, the blessed hope, the hope that purifies, the hope of the church, the Scripture hope, and the great incentive to holy watching.”—Rev. S. J. Austin. “And every man that hath this hope in him purifieth himself even as he is pure. I can preach nothing else. The power of this hope, the coming of Christ has never seemed so real until now. I can think of nothing else. It is buried into my entire being.”—Rev. Edwin Davis. “Many that are looking at me may never die; we are near the end of this dispensation. The coming of the Lord in the clouds to take his church to be with himself is the Christian’s hope. Oh, to be ready! In the Master’s name I tell you, be ready. I charge you to prepare for his coming.”—Henry Varley. (1875). “It is impossible to imagine anything more delightful than the prospect of the promised return of our most blessed Saviour. But do we all desire it? Are we all looking out with loving hearts, longing for the appearance of our beloved Redeemer?”—Rev. E. Hoare. “I am afraid we cannot hope for much better times until the Lord Jesus Christ comes a second time. Often do I cheer myself with the thought of his coming. The shout shall be heard, Allelujah! allelujah! the Lord God omnipotent reigneth! For that day do I look; it is to the bright horizon of that second coming that I turn my eyes.”—Rev. Charles Spurgeon. “Some people are greatly frightened when the second coming of Christ is mentioned, or when it is deduced from prophecy that the great event is soon to occur. A Christian should be suspicious of himself if he feels afraid of that glorious day.”—Rev. Dr. Robinson. “No man can be blind to the truth that the return of the Lord is the great hope of his church—that towards this glorious fact our minds are to be continually turned. In the thought of it is our highest joy.”—Rev. W. H. Atkin. “Prophetic students in England, now wake up and cry aloud, The Lord is at hand. Pamphlets are issuing forth from the press, sermons are being preached, lectures delivered, all declaring that Jesus is at hand. Never in all our experience did we see so much stir, so much looking out, such a general conviction that the day of salvation is not far off. One pamphlet on the “Eastern Question viewed in the light of Prophecy,” has reached a sale of one hundred thousand copies in a few weeks.”—Rev. William Kellaway. Nature of God's Requirements.
By GEO. C. TENNY.
The apostle says that love is the fulfilling of the law. That is, everything that God requires at our hands springs from this principle. No more noble principle was ever revealed to man, and we can be actuated by no higher motive either in our associations with one another or our devotions to God. It is the law of heaven, and its presence on earth is conducive to the best good of mankind. Where love and benevolence prevail in the place of selfishness, there we find happiness and peace. So God has made this holy principle the standard of all excellence. Our actions must be judged by our motives and no matter how well they may appear they will not be commended if prompted by any other motive than benevolence. This being the nature of love it should be mutual and universal. God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son that whosoever believeth on him should not perish, but have everlasting life. Here is infinite love extended to a lost world. We may not restrict it to the comparatively few who accept it, because all may accept and experience it in their own salvation. And because few do avail themselves of this blessing it does not limit the love of God to that few. But perhaps the love which is shown in the life of Christ is as great as that which we receive in his death. What joy and light and comfort we receive by remembering that the Saviour bore all the trials which we have to bear. He did not choose to live among the rich and noble, but for our sake he chose a life of poverty. Not many of us are as poor as he. He was cast off by friends in time of trouble. Not only do we see him shedding tears of sympathy over the death of Lazarus, but we hear his blessed words of comfort, “I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live.” These are some of the ways in which God, shows his love to us; and when we consider that this is the principle which the Saviour gave as the first great commandment, “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind,” we see that this is not an arbitrary requirement but one which exists from the nature of our relations to God. The second principle may be deduced by similar reasoning. But we wish to inquire how can we show our love to God? One answers, By embracing the gospel. Not so. The gospel is God's love to us. 1 John 4:10. By embracing the gospel we accept the love which God extends to us. We dishonor him by refusing to do so. But the only way in which we can show our love to God is by keeping his commandments. 1 John 5:3; Eccl. 12:13. These are embodied in those two precepts which Jesus gave the lawyer, Matt. 22:37-39, and are further delineated in the decalogue given by God himself. Let us consider how great are our obligations to love God who has bestowed such love upon us, and try to reciprocate that love by becoming obedient to all his holy law. (Condensed from Review and Herald.) Ridgeway.—Bro. Canright was at this place May 1–3; spoke each evening in a large school-house which was crowded with hearers. The truth spoken seemed to be received with much interest; some have recently embraced the Sabbath; and others are interested and attend the Sabbath meetings. Parma.—Bro. Whitney has finished his second course of lectures here. The interest continued to the close. In looking back upon the work that has been accomplished in this place, he says, “I am led to exclaim, ‘This is the Lord’s doings and is marvelous in our eyes.’” East Randolph and Clear Creek.—Bro. Reynolds continues meetings at East Randolph, and has just reached the Sabbath question. He met with the church at Clear Creek two Sabbaths, and reports good attendance and excellent meetings; he states that the Lord is blessing with increase of numbers. South Amherst.—Four years ago a course of lectures was given in this place, one family of three embraced the truth. Within the last month others have taken up the cross to keep all of God’s commandments; there is now a company of thirteen adults observing the Sabbath. An interest in the truth is being aroused, as the result of the distribution of the SIGNS OF THE TIMES. Rock Creek.—Bro. S. Fulton has been holding meetings in this place for a few weeks, and as the result of his labors eight have commenced to keep the Sabbath. Thompson’s Valley.—Bro. D. Downer closed his meetings at this place April 21. He left twenty-five keeping the Sabbath. While here he has been opposed by the ministers of three denominations. One Methodist minister preached a discourse in which he denied the second coming of Christ and said the law was abolished. The presiding elder, one week from that time, preached in the same stand, the soon coming of Christ, and the law still binding upon all. The object to which a man bows down and worships, leaves its own impress stamped upon his soul; and as the years roll on, he must inevitably, by the very law of his being, become more and more like the god he adores. If a man gives himself up entirely to the pursuit of wealth, pleasure, or any one of the fashions of this world they each in turn become his god, and at the shrine of each he bows down and pays his homage. Day by day he finds some one or all of these objects becoming increasingly necessary to his happiness—and even to his existence; and spurred on, as by an unseen power, he plunges forward in hot pursuit of his object, until death, that solemn sentry, bids him stand! They who saw him in life knew that “God was not in all his thoughts.” He was not to be found among those who “went about doing good.” The noble and godlike enterprises of the day—though they loudly demanded—did not obtain his aid and co-operation. He was of the world, and to it he gave all he had and all he was. Thus do all those who love not our Lord Jesus Christ.—Christian Banner. “Why, Archie Allen, you are not ready for church yet; we shall surely be late,” said the young wife as she entered the elegant library where her husband sat reading a choice volume of poetry. It was Clara’s first Sabbath in her new home. She had but lately left the sheltering roof of a kind great-uncle, who had taken her to his home when a lonely orphan, and reared her very tenderly, surrounding her with every comfort and many of the elegancies of life. A gentleman some years her senior had won her heart’s affection, and now she was installed as mistress of his beautiful city home. Six months before she had publicly professed her love for the Saviour, but she was yet in the morning of her religious life. She needed the fostering care of an experienced, devoted Christian. Would she meet with such aid from him who was to be her future companion and protector? “Marry only in the Lord,” was the advice of an aged friend to the young girl. “Archie is not a professor of religion,” she reasoned with herself; “but he respects religion, I know, and who can tell what influence I may exert over him?” “You are not really going to church to-day, Clara, dear, cold as it is?” said the young man, dropping his book and looking up with a smile. “Why, who ever heard of such a thing as staying at home from church unless one was ill!” “I think I am not very well, Clara. Won’t you stay at home and take care of me? Read me some poetry and sing a few of your sweet songs.” Clara looked at him a moment a little incredulously and then replied, “You are quite well, I know by your laughing. I think it is very wrong to stay at home from church; indeed I do, Archie. Won’t you go with me?” “But where shall we go, my good wife?” “Wherever you are accustomed to.” “I am accustomed to attend that cosy little brick church down by your uncle’s, and I thought I had done duty so well there I should be considered religious enough for the rest of my days. But don’t look so sad, Clara. I will go anywhere to please you. I know of a splendid marble church on the Avenue. We will drive there if you like, though I really have no idea of what persuasion it is. I will order the carriage and be ready in a few minutes,” and he left the room gayly humming the fragment of an opera air. It was an elegant, stately church. The brilliant light which flowed through the stained windows almost dazzled the sight of the young girl, accustomed only to the plain green shades of the humble village church. The voice of the deep-toned organ rolled through the marble hall and then burst forth into a light, gay air, which, to her unaccustomed ears, sounded strangely in a house of worship. God seemed nearer in the little church at home, which, nestled down among the grassy mounds and moss-grown head-stones, seemed always pointing to a life beyond. When the minister arose she marked well his graceful air, the polished words and sentences which flowed so smoothly from his lips as he read them from the page before him. But, alas! “So coldly sweet, so deadly fair,
We start, for soul is wanting there.” Clara felt that her soul had not been fed, as the carriage rolled away from the marble church; but there was much around her to attract the gaze of one who had never before spent a Sabbath in the city. Her husband was glad to be released from the sound of “the prosy old doctor’s essay,” and was in quite good humor with himself for his act of self-denial in going to church. So the drive home was quite a pleasant one, though considerably longer than the one to church. When they reached home a note was brought in containing an invitation from a fashionable friend of Mr. Allen’s to take a little drive out to the new park grounds that afternoon. The carriage would call at three o’clock. Clara was shocked at such a disregard of the sanctity of God’s holy day, and her husband employed a great deal of skillful rhetoric and much more subtle sophistry before she could be brought even to entertain such a project. “You know I went to church to please you this morning. I am sure you will be kind enough to oblige me by accepting my friend’s invitation. I know he would be seriously offended if we did not.” Alas for youth, when the counselors it relies on “counsel to do wickedly!” Clara yielded, though with sad misgivings, and dressed herself for the ride. The lady beside her was very courteous and attentive, and the gay conversation turned on various frivolous worldly subjects, till in the pleasant excitement of the drive Clara almost forgot the day. When they turned back again Mrs. Harvey insisted that they should dine with her, and the carriage stopped at their residence. A gay evening was spent, Clara being prevailed upon to play some of her choicest music and join her new acquaintance in singing some popular songs, which she did with most exquisite grace and expression. Her dark eye grew brighter and her fair cheek flushed softly, as she felt the proud, admiring glance of her husband bent upon her. But underneath all her pleasure was a dull sense of pain and a consciousness of wrong-doing, which was a very serpent trail among her fragrant flowers. When she reached her home again a flood of regretful sorrow overwhelmed her heart, and she wept bitterly. Her husband sought most tenderly to soothe her grief, and secretly resolved to undermine the “superstition which caused the dear girl so much unhappiness.” “You have done nothing wrong, dear Clara, that you need reproach yourself so bitterly. You have only spent a pleasant afternoon and evening with a friend. We must have dined somewhere, and what difference whether at their house or our own! What is life given us for except to make it just as full of happiness as we can, and to make others around us happy? Just think how much pleasure your sweet singing gave my friends and me. Harvey said it was better than the finest opera he ever heard. Religion ought to make people happy. I am afraid yours has not to-day, Clara, so I cannot think it is just the right sort for you. Now, really, did not the drive to and from church do you more good than the sermon? I am quite sure it did; so I always intend to take a good long road to church in future.” It was some consolation to know that her husband intended to go to church with her in the future; so Clara dried her eyes and listened to a little gem of poetry he had selected to read to her that morning. Little by little the rock of her faith was worn away, and she was first learning to look on happiness as the true end of existence instead of holiness, “without which no man shall see the Lord.” And, alas! many whose associations are far less worldly make this mistake, and look mainly for a great deal of joy and exalted happiness in their religious life. Because they do not attain it they go mourning all their days, looking with weeping eyes on those whom they regard as more favored of God, because the light of gladness shines upon their pathway. Desponding heart! there is no true happiness in religion where that alone is the end you seek. Holiness must be the end and aim of your whole course, or your joy will be like the “hope of the hypocrite, but for a moment.” “Be ye holy, for I am holy,” is the divine command. How strange that a truly loving heart could enter upon such a task as that which Mr. Allen now commenced—the work of loosening a trusting nature from its only safe moorings, leaving it to drift without a compass or a guiding-star upon a sea abounding with fearful rocks and angry breakers. But such is the hatred of the natural heart to the humbling doctrine of the cross and salvation alone through Him who was crucified upon it. Clara was fond of reading, and her husband took care to place in her way certain fascinating writers then quite popular, whose frequent merry flashes and sarcastic allusions to the “orthodoxy” tended more surely than serious reasoning would have done to make her think lightly of the faith in which she had been trained. The old-fashioned Bible was skillfully tortured out of its plainest meaning by these so-called reformers, or utterly ignored where it could not be distorted to suit their views. What their opinions of its inspiration were could never be clearly seen by others, if, indeed, they had ever given such a trifling matter any consideration whatever. Instead of the sure foundation which has Jesus Christ for its corner-stone, and a religion which teaches faith, humility, self-denial, earnest labor for souls, and all lowly virtues, they profess to throw wide open the doors of a “broad church,” which should gather in all mankind as brothers, which should teach them the dignity and excellence of humanity, and give every one a free pass at last on the swift train over the celestial railway. In their great harvest field they claimed the tares to be as valuable as the wheat, and never gave thought to the “harvest day.” But, alas! calling the tares wheat will not avail when “the Lord of the harvest” comes and the command is given, “Bind them in bundles to burn them.” But the form in which the fatal error was clothed was fair and pleasing, especially so when her husband would say:
“Lend to the charm of the poet
The music of his voice.” There was one favorite writer who seemed to possess a magic power in painting every shady nook and mossy way-side spring of the human heart. No old, gray rock or fathomless shadow of feeling seemed to escape that observing eye. And there were clear, bold strokes sometimes which showed a strength not often given to a woman’s hand. Through all her writings ran a thread of light reflected from God’s word, though bent out of its own right line by the prism through which it flowed. Much was said of the love and tender mercy of God, but the fact that he is also a just God, and will in no wise clear the guilty, was set aside as a hard doctrine. The gay scoffer, the one who despises Christ’s tender offers of love and pardon, provided he is amiable and pleasant among his friends and associates, must not be given over to a just retribution. God is too loving a father to see such a lovely scorner perish. It is “so incongruous” to think of the one with whom we have had such pleasant converse here being forever lost. The sophistry gradually wrought its work; the more readily, as poor Clara, in the whirl of fashion and gaiety, failed to bring it to the test of “the law and the testimony.” Time rolled on and Clara was becoming more thoughtful and studious. Various philosophical works which her husband admired, and which he often read and discussed with her, were becoming favorite volumes. There was something grand in the old philosopher’s views of life and its little ills and joys. There was something wonderful in their curious speculations respecting the mysteries of the world beyond. Her husband delighted in leading her mind through all their fantastic windings as they groped for the truth so clearly revealed to us. He praised his wife for her appreciation of such intellectual food, and rejoiced that he had been so successful in winning the affection of a truly intellectual woman. Her self-love was gratified, and her diligence in diving deeper into his favorite works daily increased. In her own home circle her heart had room to expand its choicest tendrils. A noble boy three summers old was prattling at her feet, and all the demands of fashion could not make her forget a mother’s duties. Still they were only the duties that pertained to his temporal welfare, for the flame of devotion had smoldered to ashes on the hearth-stone of her heart. The rain was dashing against the closed shutters one November night as an anxious group gathered in Mrs. Allen’s chamber. They were standing on either side of a beautiful rose-wood crib, whose hangings of azure gauze were closely drawn aside. There lay a little form tossing and restless, his little face and throat seemed scarlet as they rested on the snowy pillow, and his little hand moved restlessly to and fro, as if vainly striving to cool the burning heat. It was the mother’s hand that tirelessly bathed the scarlet brow and burning limbs. Servants were constantly in waiting, but no hand but her husband’s was allowed to take her place. “Do you think there is hope, doctor?” was the question she longed to ask, but could not frame it into words. It came at length from her husband’s lips. The answer was only a straw to grasp at. “He is in a very critical state, indeed. If I had been at home when he was first taken ill I think the fever would not have reached such a height. But everything almost depends on first steps. We must do what we can now to make up for lost hours.” But all that the best medical skill could do proved useless. The little sufferer lingered through the long night watch, and when the morning dawned seemed once more to know them all. “My mamma,” were the first words which fell from his lips, sending a thrill of joy to all their hearts. It was bliss to see the smile of recognition light once more those sweet blue eyes, and the parents grasped each other’s hand in silent joy. The old physician alone looked grave and sorrowful. The little light was fast fading out, and this was its dying flicker. “Mamma, please take Bertie,” said the little one, holding up the dimpled hands. Very tenderly was he lifted up and laid in her arms. “Good night, papa, it’s most dark now; Bertie is going to sleep.” His mother’s tearful face bent over him, and as the strange hand of Death was laid upon his heart-strings he clasped her closely about the neck, as if she were a refuge from every danger. They took the little one gently from her arms and laid him on his couch again. Her husband could not even strive to comfort167 her. He saw the joy and pride of his existence, the heir of his name and fortune, around whom so many fair hopes clustered, “taken away by a stroke,” and his soul seemed crushed within him. He bowed his head upon his hands, and, regardless of other eyes, the proud man groaned, and sobbed, and wept as never in his life he had done before. Both were too deeply stricken to utter words of comfort. Clara felt her bleeding heart torn from her bosom. Yet no tears came to her relief. Her brain seemed bursting with the pressure upon it. Where was the sustaining power of boasted philosophy in this hour of darkness? Ah, when the afflictions of life come home to “the bone and marrow of our own households” they are far different to us from those which concern only our neighbors. It is an easy thing to look on pleasure philosophically, or even the afflictions of others, but when our turn to suffer comes we shall feel our need of a strong staff to lean upon, a sure support that can keep us in perfect peace, even in the furnace. Clara had sought to pray when the agony of fear was upon her, but God seemed too far away to listen. “I cannot give him up, my husband!” was the agonized cry of the mother as they stood for the last time by his side before he was to be taken forever from their chamber. “I cannot give him up,” was the despairing language of both their hearts. There can be no true resignation where a loving Father’s hand is not recognized in the affliction; where this poor world is allowed to bound the spirit’s vision. But at last the precious dust was borne away to be seen no more by mortal eye till the resurrection morning. Time, the great healer, wore away the sharpness of the bereavement, but Clara could never again delight in her former pursuits. How like very dust and ashes seemed the food she had been seeking to nourish her soul upon! A softened melancholy rested upon her heart, and she would wander about her house looking at the relics of her lost one. And day by day the roses faded from her cheek, her step grew lighter on the stair, and she rapidly declined, till at length she was startled at the shadowy form and face her mirror revealed to her. Her long-neglected Bible was once more sought for, and she read with all the desperate eagerness of a drowning man, who catches at every chance of safety. It was her mother’s Bible, and all along the margin were delicate pencil tracings, pointing to many precious passages. How eagerly she read them over! and when she was too weary herself, she gave the book into her husband’s hand. Still he could give her no advice in her spiritual distress, and looked upon it with compassion as the result of her disease. He gave her the tenderest worldly consolation, but it brought no peace to her anxious soul. Was there no one to offer a word of true counsel? From a very humble source came the advice she so much needed. The kind nurse, Margaret, whom little Bertie had loved next to his parents, was an earnest humble Christian. It was from her lips he had learned to lisp his morning and evening prayer, and her low, gentle voice that told him over and over the sweet story he never tired of hearing—the story of the Babe of Bethlehem. Plainly and simply she pointed Clara’s mind to the Lamb of God as the only Saviour, praying hourly in her heart that God would bring home the truth with power to her. At length a little light broke in upon her mind. “It may be he will receive even such a wandering sheep as I,” she said, “oh, I will cast myself upon his mercy only, for I can do nothing to make myself better!” The thin hands were folded over the Bible, the eyes closed wearily, a faint motion of the lips told of the silent prayer her heart was offering, as gently she breathed her life away. A few months later Mr. Allen became a wanderer in many lands. Do you ever sigh and disquiet your heart, Christian pilgrim, because God has not given you wealth and worldly ease? Remember the words of One who never gave a needless caution nor spoke an untruthful word—“How hardly shall they that have riches enter into the kingdom of heaven!” It is a dangerous step indeed for a young heart to form a life-long union with one who is a stranger to its hopes of heaven. “Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers,” is a command which may not be lightly broken. Where all of this world, and very probably the world to come, are at stake the cost should be well counted. “What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul?” Even the most devoted affection the world can bestow will be no substitute for God’s loving favor. “What shall a man give in exchange for his soul?” Not to the man of dollars,
Not to the man of deeds,
Not to the man of cunning,
Not to the man of creeds;
Not to the one whose passion
Is in the world's renown,
Not in the form of fashion,
Cometh a blessing down. Not unto land's expansion,
Not to the miser's chest,
Not to the princely mansion,
Not to the blazoned crest;
Not to the sordid worldling,
Not to the knavish clown,
Not to the haughty tyrant,
Cometh a blessing down. Not to the folly-blinded,
Not to the steeped in shame,
Not to the carnal-minded,
Not to unholy fame;
Not in neglect of duty,
Not in the monarch's crown,
Not at the smile of beauty,
Cometh a blessing down. But to the one whose spirit,
Yearns for the great and good,
Unto the one whose store-house
Yielded the hungry food;
Unto the one who labors
Fearless of foe or frown;
Unto the kindly-hearted,
Cometh a blessing down. RELIGIOUS NEWS AND NOTES.
—It is reported that Mr. Spurgeon has injured his health by overwork. —There were 656 baptisms at the Baptist mission in Ongole, Southern India, last year. —Mr. Moody has closed his successful labors at Boston, and gone to Northfield to rest for a short time. —At Bay city, Mich., 3,000 persons have signed the pledge, and the Reform Club numbers 1,400 members. —Roman Catholic emissaries are traversing the South. They have established 65 schools for colored people in four States. —The children of Medford, Maine, are holding revival meetings several times each week in one of the intermediate schools. —The annual report of the fifty-second anniversary of the American Tract Society showed the receipts to be $441,198, expenditures $441,119. —The Boston Journal has heard of a case in which the restitution of $12,000 had been made by a party who had been converted at the Tabernacle meetings. —The Archbishop of Paris warmly protests against the vote in the Chamber of Deputies, which casts suspicion upon the patriotism of French Catholics. —Mr. Tooth, the English rector whose ritualistic practices at Hatcham caused so much trouble, received, when at Rome, an order for an audience with the pope. He declined the honor. —It is much remarked that the Russian troops passing Bucharest have exchanged their ordinary colors for flags bearing a double Greek cross, carried only when the war is a religious one. —The Archbishop of Quito was poisoned at Panama, while saying mass, by means of strychnine introduced into the wine in the ceremony. There was a great excitement and indignation over the sacrilege. —Hector Bronson, who was the oldest Methodist clergyman in active duty in the State of New York, and for thirty-five years agent of the American Bible Society, died recently at Rhinebeck, aged eighty-six years. —The translation of the relics of St. Benedict, martyr, was recently celebrated by the Passionist Fathers at St. Michael's Monastery, West Hoboken, N. Y. Seven thousand persons assisted at the services. It was stated that these relics were secured from the Vicar General of Poletto, Italy. —There are five hundred and forty monasteries and convents in Russia, the revenues of which amount altogether to £1,300,000. The cost of maintaining each monk or nun during one year, on the average, is about £22. In Servia there are forty-one convents. The bishops have been forbidden to ordain any more monks, and the legislature is considering a proposition to turn the convents into schools of agriculture and forestry.