THE only Dominican Monastery in the United States was opened in this city on the 20th of April, 1884. It is situated on Thirteenth Avenue, and occupies the entire block from South Ninth to South Tenth Street. It is erected in the form of a hollow square, with the cloister proper in the center; is built of dull-looking brown stone, and surrounded by a high board fence. The floor of the chapel is of imported Spanish tiling, the Dominican colors, black and white, prevailing. No seats are introduced, the old style being strictly adhered to. The sanctuary is raised one step, and is a beautiful affair. In front of the altar, in red, black and white tiling, is the Dominican monogram, AD, and a Dominican cross.
About fifteen feet above the altar is the exposition niche of the sacrament, which is reached by steps curving from either side of the chapel. It is of Italian marble, exquisitely carved; and from that elevated point the priest bestows benediction upon the sisters in the chapel, and through a plate-glass window which looks into the cloister, to the assembled nuns. On a level with the floor, and back of the altar, hidden from the gaze of the public, are iron grates with two small doors, one on the priests' and the other on the sisters' side of the eighteen-inch wall, through which the sacrament is passed by the priest, and partaken of by the sisters.
From one of the rooms of the priest, opens a small, dark closet, into which the father confessor goes to hear the confessions of a sister. She is locked in a similar room on the other side of the wall. Iron grates sixteen inches apart separate the sister and the confessor. On the sister's side is a sheet-iron frame perforated with very small holes. It fits the grating, and through it she communicates with the priest. Two or three "turning boxes" are provided, through which the priest's vestments and other articles may be passed, without either party being able to see the other. The box is cylindrical in form, with one side cut open, and turns on a pivot. The article is placed in the open side of the box, which is turned half around, and may be emptied on the other side of the wall.
Next is the visitors' room. The wall separating the world from the cloister is thick; on the visitors' side, as well as on that of the sisters, are heavy iron gratings. Heavy pine shutters on the cloister side closes all view, but one of them opens and the parties must face each other. Through heavy doors, entrance to the cloister is gained. This is the only possible entrance within the walls. The doors are double-locked with keys unlike. One key is held by the bishop or his representative, and the other by the prioress. No one can go in without the prioress' permission, and no one can come out without the permission of both. Large community or sitting and working rooms are on the north side of the building, with large, grated windows opening into a yard. This may be reached through a door, which is, however, kept locked, with the key in the possession of the prioress.
The sisters' chapel, separated from the public chapel by a heavy wall, is a cold-looking room. Stalls, one for each sister, are provided; it is perfectly plain. By the entrance are the stalls of the prioress and sub-prioress; in the second story is the community room of the novices, on the west side. The cells of the sisters are also on this floor, on the north and east sides. Opening from wide corridors, are fifty rooms, 9x13 feet in size generally, with one window opening either into the court-yard or to the outside. When furnished, each room will have a single cot bed, a chair, and a table. The floors are bare.
On the east side is the infirmary, where sick sisters are kept. The rooms are similar to the others, however, and there is very little that325looks like comfort. A pharmacy for medicines is provided, and in one room, where the convalescent may sit, is an open fire-place. With the exception of the range in the kitchen, this open fire-place will be the only fire allowed in the entire monastery. The community or sitting-rooms, where the sisters will work when not engaged in prayer, are two hundred feet away, and exposed to the cold of the north, with not a particle of heat from any source.
Each sister is absolutely under the control of the prioress, and is not allowed to go to the fire except when sick. She must rise from bed, as the rules of the order require, at midnight on a cold winter night, robed in the thin garments of the order, and proceed to the chapel for prayers for two hours. At 2 o'clock in the morning the sisters return to their beds and remain until six, when the day's service begins. About half of the day is spent in prayer and persecution of the flesh, and the remainder in work. Fancy embroideries, vestments for priests and churches, and clothing for themselves, comprise the work engaged in.
A rule of the order is, that not a particle of meat may be eaten from one year to another, except when sickness demands it, or rather when the physician who may be called orders it. Special dispensation is required from the bishop to allow a departure from this rule.
The prioress of this prison-house is known in the world as Miss Julia Crooks, and is of a wealthy New York family. Her name in the monastery is Martha Mary Jesus, which is enough to shock the redeemed in Heaven. Once within the cloister, the poor dupes are secluded and communications are never had with the world.
I think it strange that such institutions should exist in America without being inspected. It is well known that the State itself is not permitted to keep any person in prison without permitting inspection by the grand jury. The Reformed Catholic Church has been the means of bringing many from darkness into light, and I am now preaching to the largest Reformed Catholic congregation in America, and thus far over one hundred Romanists have accepted the gospel of Christ. Thanks be to God, our people are ceasing to fear the Italian church or its agents, and are boldly coming out on the side of the Lord. The greatest difficulty we have to contend with is the want of finances to carry on our work as we would desire. However, we leave that to God, who will not allow us to succumb for want of money. I ask your prayers that I may be enabled to do the Master's will, and labor effectively for the promotion of his cause, in all humility and earnestness.
STEPHEN TAYLOR DEKINS, Pastor.
Residence, 13 Cottage Street, Newark, N. J.
Witnessing for God.
By John Hall
If one has influence, as parents, employees, or as the rich and talented have, how strong is the obligation to use it aright! Even the knowledge of God's mighty acts is a talent to be used. How those old worthies would rehearse the deeds they had witnessed! They could bear personal testimony—they were bound to do so. So are all who have had experience.
To give such witness is a sacred duty. Hence Christians confess Christ. How could just and generous men accept salvation at Christ's hand, and refuse to confess him when he calls them to do it?—Rev. John Hall, D. D.
The Bible as Literature
The Bible is by universal confession the best of books in a literary as well as in a moral sense. The antiquity, the eloquence, the verity, the purity, the permanency, and the power of the literature which it embodies and represents alike proclaim it such. As the insect within the odorous recesses of the rose is all embalmed in fragrance, so it is with him who studies the literature of the Bible.
Be Decided.
A GENTLEMAN and his wife were present at camp-meeting. Neither had ever made a profession of religion. Under one of the sermons the lady was deeply and sorely convicted of sin. She desired to go forward and kneel at the altar as a poor penitent. Her husband protested against it, and tried to lead her from the ground. Her convictions were so profound and intense that she insisted upon presenting herself at the altar. He used his authority, forbidding her to go. She pleaded with him for her soul's sake not to interfere with her conscience. He threatened to desert her if she dared to go. 'Never return to my house if you go,' said he. Swept by an irresistible current of anxiety and longing she ran to the altar. Casting herself upon the ground, she pleaded for divine mercy. Such earnest longing found a speedy response, and the 'peace of God' rested upon her spirit. 'Oh, where is my husband?' she exclaimed, as she tried to rise from her knees. 'Here I am,' sobbed the crushed and penitent man, who had followed her in her flight toward God, and had fallen by her side, himself crying for mercy. Peace soon came to his heart, and they went from the meeting rejoicing in God.—Sel.
Walking with God.
SOMETIMES we read in the Bible of walking before God, as when he said to Abram, “Walk before me, and be thou perfect.” Gen. 17 : 1. Sometimes we read of walking after God, as when Moses said to the Israelites, “Ye shall walk after the Lord your God, and fear him, and keep his commandments, and obey his voice, and ye shall serve him, and cleave unto him.” Deut. 13 : 4. But of Enoch and Noah it is said that they walked with God. To walk before reminds us of a child, running and playing in the presence of a father, and conscious of perfect security because he is near and behind. To walk after is becoming to a servant; but to walk with, indicates fellowship and friendship.—The Truth.
Holiness and Christian Character
THE world's only estimate of religion is holiness. The world wants men who are saved from secret faults. A little crack will spoil the ring of the coin. The world expects that a Christian man shall be free from little tricks of gain, and all crooked ways of buisness.
SUNSET BY NIAGARA.
By Mrs. M. J. Bahler
BY MRS. M. J. BAHLER.
The sun has sunk beneath a cloud,
With edge of pink and gold,
And here Niagara mirrors back
The beauteous scene twofold.
Here where I gaze, this river proud
Is calm as tideless lake;
But on my ear there falls the roar
Its plunging waters make.
I've often watched its curling waves,
With snow-white feathery crest,
Go whirling, dashing, rushing by,
With ne'er a pause to rest;
And standing 'neath the fearful cliff
O'er which these waters pour,
While gazing upward, filled with awe,
Have thought, "All must adore
The power that formed this cataract grand,
For here the soul must raise
From nature up to nature's God
With reverent awe and praise."
Oft, standing on the tow'ring rocks
Which form Niagara's brow,
I've gazed with wonder and with dread
On rocks and flood below.
And here, with fascinated eye
Fixed on these waters green,
I've watched while pearl-white sprays would break
In grand and beauteous sheen.
And once when winter's glistening robe
Was spread o'er all around,
On trees, from root to topmost twig,
On rocks, and frozen ground;
When tower and bridges all were clad
In robes of frozen spray,
And icicles of ponderous size
Hung from each crag away;
When the deep green these waters wear,
Contrasted with this white,
Seemed like an emerald set in pearl
Of living, gleaming light;
And o'er this scene so wondrous fair,
The brilliant sunbeams lay
In such a flood that diamonds seemed
Sparkling about our way,—
I, viewing, stood with wonder chained,
And veiled my aching eyes;
Thought of the city built of gems,
And pearls of wondrous size,
Whose light effulgent gleaming far
No mortal eye could bear,
And whose grand harp-tones swelling full
Upon the ambient air,
As angel hosts surround the throne
And Heaven's King adore,
Might to our untrained mortal ears
Seem like Niagara's roar.
And once at solemn midnight hour,
When summer's robes so fair
Were bathed in floods of silver light,
The full moon's radiance there,
I came to view the lunar bow,
Rare glory here displayed;
And then it seemed the Almighty God
Had there his presence stayed.
I seemed to stand before his throne,
And, wrapped in awful dread,
I felt that this was holy ground
Profaned by mortal's tread.
God's voice seemed speaking in the roar,
Which rising, swelling, filled
The heart with awe, and with strange power
The lips in silence held.
Oh, solemn scene! with pulses stilled,
And bated breath we stood,
Then walked in silence from the place
Which seemed the house of God.
Niagara! no pen can paint
The grandeur here displayed;
The changing beauty of thy flood
Can never be portrayed.
Denison City, Texas.
Knowing How.
By Phillips Brooks
"I know how to be abased, and I know how to abound." Phil. 4:12.
The moral uses of adversity monopolize our thought. But it is also true that the man who has wealth and does not flee from it, but uses it well, does more nobly than the ascetic in his cell. It is not mine to tell men of riches to throw their riches away, but to tell them of their privileges and responsibilities. Beyond the duty of being anything is the higher duty of knowing how to be anything. No man has a right to be anything unless he has a knowledge of how to be that thing. When Paul says, 'I know how to abound,' he is thinking of anything which makes life pleasant and ample—of money, of scholarships, of friendship, of great spiritual hopes and experiences. Paul did not have all of these, and yet he had the knowledge how to use them. The power by which he could rob abundance of its dangers was the knowledge of the true perfection of a soul in serving Christ. All men do not know how to be rich. The generous, sympathetic, active, kind, rich man knows how to be rich. He has taken possession of his money. What is more pitiable than the blunderer who holds his wealth and knows not how to use it? In the college of life every one should learn how to live. The grand lesson to be learned is how to glorify God with what we have. Sometimes a rich man feels that if he could only get rid of his money he would become a stronger and better man. It is the old story of the man in the tropics thinking he could be a good man at the North Pole. The outcry of the poor is not against rich men, but rich men who do not know how to be rich. The pride, vulgarity, cruelty, and selfishness of wealth make the poor man's heart ache and his blood boil. Oh, that all rich men and women in this land knew this truth and used it!
There is also needed a knowledge of how to know truth. Here is a scholar who can give you any information, and yet you feel no enrichment. He has no deep convictions, no faith. He has grown less human. He values his knowledge as a botanist his specimens, and not as a gardener his plants. The highest knowledge comes by reverence and devotedness to God. It is sad if there comes no time when the soul feels itself living in great spiritual abundance—sacred days when the joy is too deep for songs. There is the danger of self-satisfaction, or reactionary fear and distrust. If peace and heavenly vision come to you, make them your own by the doing of some great, hard duty in their strength. Duty is the only tabernacle which a man can make his home in the transfiguration mount. We cannot attain in one short life to all abundance, but by coming to God we can attain to the knowledge of how to abound. No lot is too rich for the soul which enters into it with the fear of God and the love of man.—Rev. Phillips Brooks.
The Sabbath-School.
By Ellen G. White
LESSON FOR THE PACIFIC COAST—JUNE 7.
ACTS, CHAPTER 26:1-23.
Paul before Agrippa.
IN the preceding lesson we learned that when Agrippa came to Cæsarea to salute Festus, and had been informed concerning Paul, he desired to hear the prisoner himself. So the apostle was brought before the king and a select company of officials and prominent citizens. Regarding this interview, we take the following comment from "Sketches from the Life of Paul," by Mrs. E. G. White:—
THE apostle knew of how little worth are the outward circumstances of worldly wealth and position, and he was not disconcerted by the brilliant display or the high rank of that titled audience. The imposing dress of the procurator and his guests, the swords of the soldiers, and the gleaming armor of their commanders, could not for a moment daunt his courage or disturb his self-control. Stretching forth his manacled right hand, he said: "I think myself happy, King Agrippa, because I shall answer for myself this day before thee touching all the things whereof I am accused of the Jews. Especially because I know thee to be expert in all customs and questions which are among the Jews; wherefore I beseech thee to hear me patiently."
Did the mind of Agrippa at these words revert to the past history of his family, and their fruitless efforts against him whom Paul was preaching? Did he think of his great-grandfather Herod, and the massacre of the innocent children of Bethlehem? of his great-uncle Antipas, and the murder of John the Baptist? of his own father, Agrippa I., and the martyrdom of the apostle James? Did he see in the disasters which speedily befell these kings an evidence of the displeasure of God in consequence of their crimes against his servants? Did the pomp and display of that day remind Agrippa of the time when his own father, a monarch more powerful than he, stood in that same city, attired in glittering robes, while the people shouted that he was a god? Had he forgotten how, even before the admiring shouts had died away, vengeance, swift and terrible, had befallen the vainglorious king? Something of all this flitted across Agrippa's memory; but his vanity was flattered by the brilliant scene before him, and pride and self-importance banished all nobler thoughts.
Paul again related the familiar story of his conversion from the stubborn unbelief of a rigid and bigoted Pharisee to faith in Jesus of Nazareth as the world's Redeemer. He described the heavenly vision that filled him with unspeakable terror, though afterward it proved to be a source of the greatest consolation,—a revelation of divine glory, in the midst of which sat enthroned him whom he had despised and hated, whose followers he was even then seeking to destroy. Transforming mercy had made Paul a new man from that hour, a sincere penitent and a fervent believer in Jesus. It was then that he was called to be an apostle of Christ, "by the will of God."
Paul had never seen Christ while he dwelt upon the earth. He had indeed heard of him and his works, but he could not believe that the promised Messiah, the Creator of all worlds, the Giver of all blessings, would appear upon earth as a mere man. He had looked for him to come in robes of majesty, attended with royal pomp, and proclaimed by the angelic host as king of the Jews. But he found that he had not read the Scriptures aright; Christ came as prophecy foretold, a humble man, preaching the word of life in meekness and humility. He came to awaken the noblest impulses of the soul, to satisfy its longings, and to crown the work and warfare of life with infinite reward.
Paul had vainly looked for a Messiah to deliver the nation from the bondage of foreign kings, but he had found in Christ a Saviour from the bondage of sin. Life had been to him a blind and baffling conflict, an unequal battle, a fever of unsatisfied desires, until he had seen Christ. Then his longings were satisfied, his fears banished, his burdens lightened. He had found him of whom Moses and the prophets had written,—Jesus of Nazareth, the Saviour of the world.
Why, he asked, should it appear incredible that Christ should rise from the dead? It had once been so to himself; but how could he disbelieve what he had himself seen and heard in that noonday vision? He could bear witness to the resurrection of the dead; for he had looked upon the crucified and risen Christ,—the same who walked the streets of Jerusalem, who died on Calvary, who broke the bands of death, and ascended to Heaven from Olivet. He had seen him and had talked with him as verily as had Cephas, James, John, or any other of the disciples. And how could he be disobedient when the Voice from Heaven sent him forth to open the eyes of Jews and Gentiles, that they might turn from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto God, that they might receive forgiveness of sins, and an inheritance among them that are sanctified? In Damascus, in Jerusalem, and throughout all Judea, and to the Gentiles, he had preached repentance toward God, faith in Christ, and a life consistent therewith.
This, and this only, was what led the Jews to seize him in the temple, and seek to put him to death; but the Lord had delivered him from this and every other danger. The testimony which he bore concerning Jesus of Nazareth was no blasphemy, no heresy, no apostasy, but a truth in perfect harmony with all the teachings of Moses and the prophets.
None who heard him could doubt his sincerity. But in the full tide of his eloquence he was suddenly stopped short. The facts related were new to Festus, as to nearly all present. The whole audience had listened spell-bound to Paul's account of wonderful experiences and visions, of revelations and ancient prophecies, and of a Jewish prophet who had been rejected and crucified, yet who had risen from the dead and ascended to Heaven; and who only could forgive sins and lighten the darkness of Jews and Gentiles. The last remark was too much for Festus to credit. He suddenly cried out in an excited manner: "Paul, thou art beside thyself! much learning doth make thee mad."
The apostle replied calmly and courteously: "I am not mad, most noble Festus, but speak forth the words of truth and soberness. For the king knoweth of these things, before whom also I speak freely; for I am persuaded that none of these things are hidden from him, for this thing was not done in a corner." Then, turning to Agrippa, he addressed him directly: "King Agrippa, believest thou the prophets? I know that thou believest."
The Jewish king had been instructed in the law and the prophets, and he had learned from credible witnesses some of the facts of which Paul had spoken. Hence, the arguments which were so new and strange to Festus, were clear and convincing to Agrippa. And he could but be affected by that burning zeal which neither stripes nor imprisonment could quench. For a time he forgot the dignity of his position, lost sight of his surroundings, and, conscious only of the truths which he had heard, seeing only the humble prisoner standing as God's ambassador, he answered involuntarily, "Almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian."
With solemn earnestness the apostle made answer: "I would to God that not only thou, but also all that hear me this day, were both almost and altogether such as I am," adding, as he raised his fettered hands, "except these bonds."
King Agrippa's curiosity was satisfied, and rising from his seat, he signified that the interview was at an end. As the assembly dispersed, the case of Paul was freely discussed, and all agreed that, while he might be an enthusiast or a fanatic, he could not in any sense be regarded as a legal criminal; he had done nothing worthy of death or imprisonment.
Though Agrippa was a Jew, he did not share the bigoted zeal and blind prejudice of the Pharisees. He had no desire to see freedom of thought suppressed by violence. "This man," he said, "might have been set at liberty, if he had not appealed unto Cæsar." But now that the case had been referred to that higher tribunal, it was beyond the jurisdiction of Festus or Agrippa. Yet, two years afterward, the result of that day's proceedings saved the life so precious to the cause of God. Festus, finding that his own judgment of the case, on grounds of Roman justice, was sustained from a Jewish stand-point by the protector of the temple, sent a letter to the emperor, stating that no legal charge could be found against the prisoner. And Nero, cruel and unscrupulous as he was, dared not put to death a man whom Lysias, Felix, Festus, and Agrippa pronounced guiltless, and whom even the sanhedrim could not condemn.
Why Paul Was Accused.
WHEN the Jewish delegation from Jerusalem appeared against Paul before Felix, their charges were, mainly, sedition among the Jews throughout the world, and profanation of the temple. These charges Paul refuted, and they could not prove them. He then expressed a hope toward God of a resurrection. See Acts 24. In his address before Agrippa, Paul gives his version of the real animus of the complaint of the Jews, as follows: "And now I stand and am judged for the hope of the promise made of God unto our fathers." Chap. 26:6. When Lysias had rescued the apostle from the mob (chap. 21:33, 34), he asked what he had done; but there was such confusion that he could get no satisfaction. And when he was brought before the council the next day, he declared, "Of the hope and resurrection of the dead I am called in question." Chap. 23:6. Paul was persistent in his assertion regarding the real cause of their rage against him.
FROM these facts we learn that the resurrection was in some way connected with the promise to the fathers. There was a promise of the Messiah (Gen. 3:15; Deut. 18:15-18, etc.); a promise of the land (Gen. 22:18; 26:4; 49:10); and a promise that the throne of David should be established forever (1 Sam. 7:12, 13, 16; Ps. 89:4, 29, 36, 37, etc.) Christ was the prophet or Messiah that had been promised (Acts 2:36); he was the Seed to which the land had been promised (Gal. 3:16); and he was the Son of David, which was to be heir to the throne (Acts 2:29-36).
THEN every feature of the promise or promises of God unto the fathers, unto which the twelve tribes hoped to come, was centered in Christ. And Christ had been put to death. This shows us the importance of the doctrine of the resurrection. As Abraham's faith, when called to offer up Isaac, through whom the promise was to be fulfilled, lay in God's ability to raise him from the dead (Heb. 11:17-19), so the apostle had faith in the resurrection of the antitype of Isaac, who had actually carried the promise to the tomb. The entire gospel fabric hung upon the resurrection of Christ. The Jews well knew that if they could cover up this fact, Christianity would be a failure; hence the apostle could well claim that, whatever pre327tended charges they might set up, their real animosity was against the resurrection. His hope was of a resurrection with Christ to heirship of the promises, and his faith was the substance of this hope (Heb. 11:1). The importance of the resurrection doctrine to the Christian is set forth at length by the same apostle in 1 Cor. 15, the point being that "if the dead rise not, then is Christ not raised; and if Christ be not raised, your faith is vain, ye are yet in your sins. Then they also which are fallen asleep in Christ are perished." If this doctrine be true, it is little wonder that Paul made the resurrection his leading theme, and that Satan, through his Jewish instruments, made it the point of attack. And if, as is popularly believed, his soul could go to Heaven at death, there would be little reason in his argument in verse 32: "If after the manner of men I have fought with beasts at Ephesus, what advantageth it me if the dead rise not? let us eat and drink; for to-morrow we die." Dr. Barnes, commenting on Acts 26:6, admits that in Paul's view, the promise of the Messiah and the hope of the resurrection were closely united. "He hoped that the Messiah would come, and he hoped therefore for the resurrection of the dead. He believed that he had come, and had risen, and therefore he believed that the dead would rise. He argued the one from the other."
Temperance.
By Dr. J. H. Hanaford
Temperance and Health.
OMITTING all reference to the mental and moral ravages of intemperance, it would require a lifetime to recount the pains and aches, the malignant diseases, induced by the demon intemperance. We have already seen that all alcoholic liquors impair, retard, and complicate digestion, always and everywhere, both in the case of the sick and the well, thus preventing the normal and full nourishment of the system. Some of the robust may endure this for a time, but the sick may safely avoid all combinations of it, in the matter of digestion, as they need all of the strength possible that they may resist the inroads of disease. It always and everywhere wastes power—never generating any—prevents the renovation of the blood, the whole body, increases the labors of the heart, by which it must weaken that organ, deranges the brain and nerves, vitiates the blood and all of the digestive juices, none of which effects are favorable to even the robust, while none of the sick can tolerate any such antagonistic agencies.
The action of alcohol—as a drink, medicine, or as a bath—is always in the line of paralysis. Let this thought be emphasized; it always and everywhere tends to benumb, derange, and eventually impair and destroy the sensibilities. In illustration, observe the "rum-blossom" of the drunkard, the red and enlarged nose. The blood vessels are so paralyzed that they cannot perform their ordinary labors, from which fact, in consequence of their relaxed state, the blood is not urged on, the vessel becoming enforced at particular places—in the face, more especially—the accumulation and engorgement increasing the size of the nose, red enough to serve as a warning—like a light-house—to guard the young from being wrecked on the hidden rocks of drunkenness!
The intense red color of the drunkard's brain is produced in precisely the same way as that of the nose, namely, paralysis of the nerves which control the circulation of this part of the body. When the drunkard's face and nose are reddened, or blushing under the influence of alcohol, the brain blushes. The same may be said also of the lungs, the stomach, the liver, the kidneys, and other structures of his body. His whole physical being blushes with shame for the outrage against nature. In consequence of this intense congestion, and the fact that it receives one-fifth of all the blood in the body, the brain participates more than any other organ in the body, except the liver, in the injury wrought by the "demon drink." As before mentioned, it sometimes becomes hardened to such a degree, even during life, that it can be readily distinguished from a healthy brain by the sense of touch alone.
For this reason, no function of the system can be carried on in its normal condition, doing its legitimate labor or office. The brain, therefore, thus robbed of its normal energies by a partial paralysis, is unable intelligently to superintend the running of this wonderful machine, "fearfully and wonderfully made," while the semi-paralyzed nerves, losing a part of their vital force, fail to keep up the telegraphic communication between the brain and all parts of the body which harmony demands.
The heart—occupying the position of the prime motor—enervated by a fearful increase of toils by the use of alcoholic stimulants (goads), laboring under serious disadvantages, must fail to perform its part of the system labor, just to that extent failing to convey nourishment to all parts of the body, as well as failing to gather up the waste and poisonous parts, and convey them to the lungs for renovation and purification. A failure here is but another name for universal failure! If the stomach is not nourished and stimulated by pure blood, it must to that extent be unable to so transform the food into blood as to impoverish the whole system. There must be a general absence of vital force, the supplies being cut off, partially, and the renovating and purifying forces suffering to the same extent. Alcohol is a "two-edged sword," fearfully destroying the vital forces. It attacks both directly and indirectly, first reducing the power of all of the organs of the body; then indirectly aggravating the evils by reducing their nourishment, by impairing digestion. This is an apt illustration of the Bible assertion that "if one member suffers, all will suffer with it."
—Dr. J. H. Hanaford.
The Sincerity Plea.
By William N. Glenn
WE often meet the argument that it is no matter what we believe if we are only sincere. The fallacy of this sentiment is well illustrated in the case of Paul. He was "zealous toward God" while persecuting the church of Christ "unto the death." Acts 8:1; 9:1, 2; 22:3, 4; 26:9-11; Gal. 1:13, 14; Phil. 3:6. He verily thought that he "ought to do many things contrary to the name of Jesus of Nazareth." Suppose Paul had continued in this way, who will argue that his sincerity, which cannot be doubted, would have been "counted to him for righteousness?"
Jesus had foretold just such a state of things: "They shall put you out of the synagogue; yea, the time cometh that whosoever killeth you will think that he doeth God service. And these things will they do unto you, because they have not known the Father, nor me." John 16:2, 3. This ignorance is proof of sincerity, but there is not a hint of a justification on that account. Here is a class, and Paul had been one of the class, who would in their zeal for God ("not according to knowledge," Rom. 10:2), deliberately violate his commandments. This class made many outward sacrifices; but that was of no avail in their behalf, for God had said that "to obey is better than sacrifice." 1 Sam. 15:22, etc. Sacrifice implies sincerity.
This doctrine of the apostle is also illustrated in his argument, 1 Cor. 15, on the resurrection. "Then [if Christ be not risen] they also which are fallen asleep in Christ are perished." Now suppose Christ had been an impostor, and had not been risen at all, why should these poor dupes, who had died in the faith of him, perish? They were sincere; many of them had sacrificed their lives. But Paul says, on the condition specified, they had perished.
But we learn, from Rev. 13 and other scriptures, that there will yet be more persecution of the saints through a false zeal for God. And those who will not worship the "image" shall be forbidden to buy or sell, and it will be decreed that they shall be put to death. And we see the party now rising to do this work; they are very zealous for God, and they are marking out a very unmerciful course toward those who will stand by the commandments of God, including his holy Sabbath. Sincerity is a good thing if coupled with obedience; but contrary to knowledge, it is a dangerous guide.
W. N. GLENN.
Wastes of the Liquor Traffic.
“The work of Dr. William Hargreaves, entitled ‘Our Wasted Resources,’” says Dr. Holland, “should be pondered by all politicians, political economists, and statesmen of our country.” It should be thoughtfully read, in fact, by every adult American man and woman in our land. “It is a marvelous revelation of criminal waste, the expenditure of almost incalculable resources for that which brings nothing but misery in return. In deference to those who are determined on drinking what they please, heedless utterly of the consequences of their example (on their sons and, now-a-days, also on their daughters and their wives), counting it no one’s business but their own, and who complain of all who oppose them as sham moralists whose advice they do not want and will not accept,—in deference to these, then, we drop it for the time as a moral question, and look at it merely as a question of national economy and prosperity. . . .
“The liquor bill of Pennsylvania during 1870 was more than sixty-five millions of dollars, a sum equal to one-third of the entire agricultural product of the State. Besides which, in 1870, there were expended by liquor consumers more than one hundred and six millions of dollars, a sum that amounted to nearly all the wages paid to laborers in agriculture and manufactures, and nearly twice as much as the receipts of all the railroads in the State, the sum of the latter being between sixty-eight and sixty-nine millions, with an annual expenditure of six hundred millions of dollars for liquors in the United States; and all the figures we give are based upon official statistics. Not only is this vast sum wasted, not only is the capital invested diverted from good uses and the industry involved taken from beneficent pursuits, but health, morality, respectability, industry, and life destroyed.
“Sixty thousand Americans annually are laid down in drunkards’ graves. It were better,” adds Dr. Holland, “to bring into the field and shoot down sixty thousand of our young men every year, than to have them go through all the processes of disease, degradation, crime, and despair, through which tremendous experience they now pass.
“Six hundred millions of dollars saved to the country annually would make our United States not only rich but able to meet the revulsions in business to which all nations are liable, without a shadow of dismay. And twenty-five years of abstinence from this consumption of liquors would leave our country fifteen billions of dollars, and make us the richest nation on the face of the globe. Not only this sum—beyond the imagination to comprehend—would be saved, but all the misery of disease, degradation, crime, and death, with all their horrors, would be to us, not only unexperienced, but unheard of and unknown!
“Should not an array of facts like these bring thousands on thousands of sane men to their feet, with sufficient energy, determination, and ability, to stamp out this ignominious, vile, and deadly usage from among us?”