MOSHEIM also concedes a dream as the origin of the story, thus:—
“Nor do we think it sufficiently proved, that the divine power interposed here to confirm the wavering faith of Constantine by a stupendous miracle. The only hypothesis, then, which remains is that we consider this famous cross as a vision, represented to the emperor in a dream, with the remarkable inscription, Hac vince, i. e., in this conquer; and this opinion is maintained by authors of considerable weight.”—Eccl. His., pp. 79, 80.
But the editor of Mosheim thinks that in the above, he has conceded more than the facts will warrant, and considers it quite incredible. There has evidently been made an effort to make the supposition of the dream conform as nearly as possible to the story of the vision. It is indeed hardly supposable that, if he had a dream, he saw the inscription given. That was doubtless an after thought. Maclaine’s note to the above contains the following:—
“This whole story is attended with difficulties which render it both as a miracle and as a fact extremely dubious, to say no more. It will necessarily be asked, whence it comes to pass, that the relation of a fact, which is said to have been seen by the whole army, is delivered by Eusebius, upon the sole credit of Constantine? This is the more unaccountable as Eusebius lived and conversed with many who must have been spectators of this event, had it really happened. . . . The sole relation of one man concerning a public appearance, is not sufficient to give complete conviction; nor does it appear that this story was generally believed by the Christians, or by others, since several ecclesiastical historians, who wrote after Eusebius, particularly Ruffin and Sozomon, make no mention of this appearance of a cross in the heavens.”—Mosheim Eccl. His., pp. 79, 80.
And so also Keightley admits the dream only:—
“This legend is related by Eusebius, on the authority of Constantine himself; but his narrative did not appear till after the death of the emperor; and in his earlier work, the ‘Ecclesiastical History,’ he is silent respecting it. Another contemporary mentions only a dream, in which Constantine was directed, on the night before the battle with Maxentius, to inscribe the sacred monogram on the shields of his soldiers; and adds that his obedience was rewarded with victory. We take not on us to decide how much of fiction or of error there may be in the legend; but that no actual miracle was wrought we venture to affirm without hesitation, in accordance with our fixed opinions on the subject.”—History of Rome, p. 315.
No doubt Sozomon believed there was a dream as above stated, but no more. And Mosheim, “Historical Commentaries,” page 476, says, “Neither had Rufinus heard anything of it, for he likewise speaks only of a dream.” This renders it still more probable that a dream, by a fraud which was not considered sinful in those days and under those circumstances, was turned into a miraculous vision, to suit the purpose of the narrator.
Milman regards it in the same light in which it is presented by Socrates:—
“And so for the first time the meek and peaceful Jesus became a god of battle, and the cross, the holy sign of Christian redemption, a banner of bloody strife. This irreconcilable incongruity between the symbol of universal peace and the horrors of war, in my judgment, is conclusive against the miraculous or supernatural character of the transaction.”
“If at this time Christianity had obtained any hold upon his mind, it was now the Christianity of the warrior, as subsequently it was that of the statesman. It was the military commander who availed himself of the assistance of any tutelary deity who might insure success to his daring enterprise. Christianity, in its higher sense, appeared neither in the acts nor in the decrees of the victorious Constantine after the defeat of Maxentius.”—Page 288.
This idea of adopting a “tutelary deity” who should be propitious in battle, was purely pagan. And there is sufficient evidence that Constantine did not renounce this pagan view while fighting under the labarum or sign of the cross. It was not to him an emblem of peace, but a pledge of conquest, a token of victory.
We have said that such a dream was only probable, as furnishing an explanation of the origin of the story. But there is no certainty that even that was a fact of occurrence. Waddington thinks the emperor himself was deceived by some appearance which his enthusiasm, perhaps by the weakness of sickness or passion, or the excitement of events, converted into a miracle. Of this idea he says:—
“It is the only supposition which can save both the intention of the emperor, and the veracity of the historian.”—Eccl. His., p. 83.
But this will be hard to accomplish, put whatever construction upon the story we will. For if Constantine and his army did not actually see this day vision, how was it possible for him to be deceived so as to believe that they did? It would hardly be possible to save the emperor’s reputation, even allowing the fact of the dream. On the other hand, if the vision was seen by Constantine and his whole army, how could it be that Eusebius should be ignorant of it for about twenty-five years from its occurrence, and then learn it only from Constantine? And how, then, should all his contemporaries be dependent on him for a knowledge of it. Look at it in any light we please, it bears on its face the evidence of fraud on the part of Constantine, and great credulity if not duplicity on the part of Eusebius.
The reader may have noticed, in a quotation given from Waddington, that that historian says Eusebius “does not even profess those rigid rules of veracity which command universal credit.” This is an impeachment of Eusebius which may surprise many who have been accustomed to regard the testimony of Eusebius as reliable beyond all question. But before blaming Waddington for this statement it would be well for the defender of Eusebius to consider well whether it is possible to extricate the eminent bishop from the dilemma in which he has placed himself by his version of the story of the vision of the cross. We do not ask merely what may be probable, but what view of it is possible by which he may be rescued from the reproach of having sacrificed the truth upon the shrine of his hero? And from this we turn to find other historians taking as strong ground against the reliability of Eusebius as does Waddington. Gibbon, in a quotation already given, says:—
“And the courtly bishop who has celebrated in an elaborate work the virtues and piety of his hero, observes a prudent silence on the subject of these tragic events.”
Certainly it is not the part of a faithful and candid chronicler of events to pass over such actions, and those so well known, as Constantine’s unnatural slaughter of the members of his own family. Neander ascribes the course of Eusebius to the fact that he was so blinded by the favor of Constantine, and the splendor of his court, that he really believed the emperor was specially inspired! But he who is so blinded by pomps or favors that he cannot discern the criminality of such acts as Constantine was guilty of as late as 326, can scarcely be relied upon to guide in a just view of interesting and important events. Or, if he was not blind to the criminality of those things, he is still more worthy of blame in passing over the crimes in silence and lauding the perpetrator as a pure Christian and inspired warrior and statesman.
It appears, not from a single statement of a single historian, but from the oft-repeated statements of many historians, that Eusebius was so carried away by the supposed benefit that Constantine was conferring on Christianity, and the personal favors bestowed on himself, by the emperor, and so far lost sight of the purity of the gospel and the strictness of Christian principles, as to greatly injure his own reputation as a historian. Thus the “Encyclopædia Britannica” says of him:—
“He was undoubtedly more of a courtier than was becoming in a Christian bishop, and in his ‘Life of Constantine’ has written an extravagant panegyric rather than a biography of the emperor.”
With Constantine’s crude or confused notions of Christianity, with his commingling of pagan and Christian rites, as it is well agreed that he did, most of his public career, if not to the very last year of his life, with his policy of making everything subserve his own interests, we cannot be surprised that he both practiced and advised deception when it favored his plans. Theodoret thus speaks of his address to the bishops of the council of Nice:—
“He said that the crimes of priests ought not to be made known to the multitude, lest they become an occasion of offense or of sin. He said also that if he had detected a bishop in the very act of committing adultery he would have thrown his imperial robe over the unlawful deed, lest any should witness the scene and be thereby injured.”—Theodoret, p. 46.
When we see that the influence of this advice has not been lost upon the church even unto this day; when we consider how many in this age of light plead against faithfully exposing the sins of professed ministers of Christ, lest the gospel faith should thereby receive an injury, we are not surprised that the words of the emperor, who was regarded almost as an oracle by the bishops, should have been received as wise and prudent, and acted upon. Eusebius was as likely as any to follow in the wake of his imperial master. And we are not left in this matter to a supposition, as the following shows:—
“In describing the sufferings of the Christians during the last persecution, Eusebius admits that it does not agree with our plan to relate their dissensions and wickedness before the persecution, on which account we have determined to relate nothing more concerning them than may serve to justify the divine judgment. We have, therefore, not been induced to make mention either of those who were tempted in the persecution, or of those who made utter shipwreck of their salvation, and were sunk of their own accord in the depths of the storm; but shall only add those things to our general history which may in the first place be profitable to ourselves, and afterwards to posterity! And in another passage he asserts that the events most suitable to a history of martyrs, are those which redound to their honor.”—Waddington, Eccl. His., p. 90.
There are few writers who seem to have given more easy credence to the statements of Eusebius than Guericke, yet he is constrained to speak of him as follows:—
“It is to be regretted that this oftentimes wavering and weak, yet great emperor—who, under the impulse of passion, was guilty even of the murder of his son Crispus and of his own wife Fausta—could not have had the plain warnings, and evangelical instructions of a bolder and less dazzled spiritual guide than was the bishop Eusebius.”—Page 243.
Neander says:—
“We should remark that Eusebius was strongly inclined to turn everything to the advantage of his hero.”—Vol. 2, p. 6.
Not Many Wise Are Called
"Not many wise men after the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble, are called."
Cosset Christians.
By N. Y. Independent
EVERY New England farmer knows what a "cosset" is. It is some pet creature, lamb or calf, which, without a mother, has been taken in hand to be raised by artificial means. The result is that it becomes subject to an amount of fondling and cosseting which takes away from it any natural character for sturdiness which it might otherwise have had. Now there are a goodly number of Christians who answer to this idea. They are cossets. They seem to be unable to live without an amount of fondling and petting which proclaims them to be weaklings, and keeps them so. We are constantly running across them, and they give us no little care and anxiety, and, upon the whole, lead us to the conclusion that they are not worth the trouble. If they cannot live and get on without the cossetting they demand, they might as well die at once. There are several varieties of them.
First, they are a class who move into a new neighborhood, and for a while "go around" and "hear different preachers" and try different churches. You see them and welcome them, it may be, or perhaps you only see them in your congregation. Presently you miss them. They may have passed out of your mind; and, in the midst of a multitude of pastoral cares and work, you forget them. Soon you hear of or from them, and are told that they left off coming to your church because you did not pay any attention to them. It is true that they never made themselves known to you. On the contrary, they waited a few Sabbaths to see if they were to be noticed and made much of, and, finding that they were not (and mainly because of their own neglect in letting any one know that they belong to the household of faith), they took their departure for some other church, setting forth that yours was a cold and formal one, which "paid no attention to strangers."
Now the question arises in our minds whether they ever thought of coming to church or among a people for the purpose of worship or work. Upon the whole, we must conclude that they came only to be petted and made much of. They were thinking of themselves, and not of the Lord and his work. If they may be petted and made much of, they will come among you; but if they cannot be put on the list of "cossets" they will go elsewhere. The fact is they are weaklings, and "think more highly of themselves than they ought to think." What right, on any principle of consecration or recognized obligation, has any Christian to make his or her active participation in the work or worship of God dependent upon any amount of petting and cossetting? And yet there are a multitude who can only be kept at even a moderate participation in church fellowship or work by an amount of petting and attention that scarce any busy pastor or people can give, or cares to give.
Second, the cosset Christian is found in the flock. They seem to have been born weaklings, and they are only kept alive by the most assiduous petting and coaxing. Of course they were known at the time of their entering the church, either by confession or by letter. For a while they came to church and prayer-meeting; but presently you missed them, and went and looked them up. You found that they had lost their interest, because "nobody seemed to care anything for them." The members had not called upon them; everybody did not rush up to them and shake hands with them every time they entered church or prayer room. Indeed, they tell you that the pastor even passed them on the street, and did not speak to them. Of course they never offered to shake hands with or speak to any one themselves, and if the pastor failed to recognize them on the street, it was not their place to recognize the pastor. That is not what they came into the church for. They came in to be cosseted and made much of, and, not being so treated, they have now taken to staying at home, and pouting like spoiled children. That they have any covenant obligations to serve the Lord, whether others do or not, never has entered into their heads, much less their hearts.
Perhaps you find out that they have been ill for a few days or weeks, and neither the pastor nor any of the members have called to inquire how they were. Of course they never sent word to the pastor that they were ill and would like to see him, nor did any one else have word of that fact but the doctor; nevertheless, they quietly assume that it was the pastor's business to know when people are sick, and go and pet them awhile. The truth is, they are cossets, and can only live by being petted, and, so to speak, "raised by hand." Then they have discovered that the pastor has visited some family oftener than he has visited them. It is not that they want any spiritual help, but only they don't want the pastor to pay more attention to somebody else than he does to them. They are cossets, and nothing more. Year in and year out they are no help to the pastor, and of no use to the church. They are but a burden, a vexation, a clog and a hindrance, taking up the pastor's time by their unreasonable complaints and fault-finding to no purpose. It is a question whether they are Christians at all. The probability is that they are only sentimentalists and selfish lovers of themselves, looking out for a place or a church in which they may be made much of. May the Lord convert them!—N. Y. Independent.
Not Consistent.
WE do not wonder that ungodly persons, who know nothing of the comforts and consolations of religion, seek pleasure in the vain and trifling amusements of the world, and frequent the theater, the dance, the skating-rink, and similar places of amusement. They feel a void within their souls, and are ready to grasp at anything that promises even a momentary gratification. But what can we think of professors of religion, who have professed to renounce the world, the flesh, and the devil, and to seek their chief happiness in God, who are all agog after the pleasures of the world, and who seem to be carried away with its vain amusements? Their profession and their practice, to say the very least, sadly conflict with each other. So far as their conduct is concerned, they appear to be as trifling, and as worldly minded as those who make no pretensions to piety. God requires those who would be recognized as his children, to come out from the world, and be separate from sinners. They must possess a different spirit; they must seek their happiness in different pursuits and enjoyments; and they must show to all around them, that, although in the world, they are not of the world. "If any man have not the spirit of Christ, he is none of his." Who will pretend to say that the popular amusements of the day are conducted in the spirit of Christ, or that any one possessing his spirit can heartily engage in them and enjoy them?—Methodist Recorder.
Stags and Snails
STAGS AND SNAILS.—As to serving the Lord with cold hearts and drowsy souls there has been too much of it; and it causes religion to wither. Men ride stags when they hunt for gain, and snails when they are on the road to Heaven. Preachers go on see-sawing, droning and prosing, and the people fall to yawning, folding their arms, and men say that God is withholding his blessing. Every sluggard, when he finds himself enlisted in the ragged regiment, blames his luck, and some churches have learned the wicked trick. I believe that when Apollos waters, God gives the increase; and I have no patience with those who throw the blame on God, when it belongs to themselves.—Selected.
The Harmony of Scripture
ONE part of God's book is incomplete without the other; but, all combined, they make a complete and harmonious whole; and men, with all their learning, have never been able to produce its equal, or to destroy its beautiful truths.
Clearness in the Pulpit
CLEARNESS in the pulpit is good sense in the pew; mysticism in the pulpit is nonsense in the pew.
Rhetoric and declamation may have their place in pulpit work, but it is upon the power of truth that the successful preacher must mainly depend. There is plenty of truth in the Bible, but a great deal of it is like the gold in the ore; it needs to be dug up and melted down in the crucible of thought before it can be used. The Bible has not only truth enough, but also a great variety. There are truths that will cut like knives; truths that will heal like balms; truths that will tear pride from any one, as a cannon ball would tear the shingles from a roof; truths that will give such confidence to the humble that they would stand against a host.
There is as much art in using a truth as there is in using a rifle. I think one of the best ways to use truth is to dogmatize; be very sure that it is a truth, then state it clearly and emphatically on its own merits and let it alone. If there is any one who hears you and does not want to accept it, he will be certain to undertake to disprove it, and when he does that, he is in a fair way to believe it. I have fought all around an unwelcome truth for days and nights, attacked it from every conceivable point, and with every instrument I could lay my hand to, besieged it, stormed it, laid snares for it, tried to take it by treachery, and after I had worn myself out fighting it, I have surrendered unreservedly and unconditionally.
Get but the truth once uttered, and 'tis like
A star new-born that drops into its place;
And which, once circling in its placid round,
Not all the tumult of the earth can shake.
Another good way to use a disagreeable truth is to startle people with it; give it to them like a clap of thunder out of a clear sky. At first their minds will fly to the other extreme, and they will take a position they cannot hold; then reaction will set in, and, like the limb of a tree that is bent from its normal position and is suddenly released, their minds will spring back to a new position. Too many arguments weaken the truth. It is better to send one barbed arrow to the heart of a tiger than to shoot him with a hundred that only pierce the skin. One argument that proves a position or a truth is enough. Its effects may not be so immediate as that of a number of arguments, but it will be the more lasting. One weak argument will do a cause more harm than a dozen good ones can repair, just as one sin in a woman's life will often outweigh a hundred virtues. "One of the rarest powers possessed by man is the power to state a truth." It requires great powers of observation to see a truth in its totality, greater powers of comprehension to think a truth in new relations without modification, and the greatest command of language to utter it without change. And as for hearing, alas! alas! How often have I thought and prayed over a statement for hours, and the first sleepy hearer that half heard of it would go home, and, without one moment's thought, blandly state what I had said, and his statement and my own did not look as much alike as Chicago before and after the fire.
It is a curious fact that people are with truths like boys with fish-hooks—if there is any way to stick themselves with them they will do it. May God help us to speak the truth and hear the truth.—H. K. P., in Christian Standard.
The Sabbath-School.
By Ellet Joseph Waggoner
LESSON FOR THE PACIFIC COAST—MAY 2.
Inheritance of the Saints.
PROMISES TO ABRAHAM.—CONTINUED.
1. Under what circumstances was the promise first made to Abraham?
2. Repeat this promise?
"And I will make of thee a great nation, and I will bless thee, and make thy name great; and thou shalt be a blessing. And I will bless them that bless thee, and curse him that curseth thee; and in thee shall all families of the earth be blessed." Gen. 12: 2, 3.
3. What condition of things will exist when this is fulfilled?
4. What scripture contains additional features of the promise?
"And the Lord said unto Abram, after that Lot was separated from him, Lift up now thine eyes, and look from the place where thou art northward, and southward, and eastward, and westward; for all the land which thou seest, to thee will I give it, and to thy seed forever. And I will make thy seed as the dust of the earth, so that if a man can number the dust of the earth, then shall thy seed also be numbered. Arise, walk through the land in the length of it and in the breadth of it; for I will give it unto thee." Gen. 13: 14–17.
5. When was this promise made?
"And the Lord said unto Abram, after that Lot was separated from him, Lift up now thine eyes, and look from the place where thou art northward, and southward, and eastward, and westward." Gen. 13: 14.
6. What did the Lord promise at this time?
"And the Lord said unto Abram, after that Lot was separated from him, Lift up now thine eyes, and look from the place where thou art northward, and southward, and eastward, and westward; for all the land which thou seest, to thee will I give it, and to thy seed forever." Gen. 13: 14, 15.
7. To whom besides Abraham was the land promised? Ib.
8. How long was it said that they should have it? Ib.
9. How numerous did the Lord say his seed should be?
"And I will make thy seed as the dust of the earth; so that if a man can number the dust of the earth, then shall thy seed also be numbered." Gen. 13: 16.
10. If his seed was to be “as the dust of the earth,” how much of the earth would it occupy?
11. Then to what was the promise equivalent?
12. How much territory does Paul say that the promise included?
"For the promise, that he should be the heir of the world, was not to Abraham, or to his seed, through the law, but through the righteousness of faith." Rom. 4: 13.
13. Why did the Lord make such great promises to Abraham?
"Seeing that Abraham shall surely become a great and mighty nation, and all the nations of the earth shall be blessed in him? For I know him, that he will command his children and his household after him, and they shall keep the way of the Lord, to do justice and judgment, that the Lord may bring upon Abraham that which he hath spoken of him." Gen. 18: 18, 19.
In our last week’s lesson we learned that the first promise was made to Abraham while he was in his native country, when God told him to go out into a land which he would show him. Gen. 12: 1–3. We found that the promise affected not only Abraham, but all the people who should live at a certain time upon the earth; that at that time all would be blessed, and would, consequently, be keeping God’s commandments.
AFTER Lot had separated from Abraham, we find the promise renewed, with some additional particulars. This will be found in Gen. 13: 14–17. There we find that land was promised to Abraham, and to his seed, and that it was to be theirs forever. In the sixteenth verse we learn that his seed was to be “as the dust of the earth.” This is but another way of saying that his descendants should fill the whole earth. That being so, it follows that the promise given at that time was that he and his descendants should possess the whole earth. In Rom. 4: 13 we learn that this conclusion is correct. We must not fail to note, however, as recorded in Gen. 18: 18, 19, that the Lord’s promise to make of Abraham a great nation, was based on the fact that Abraham would command his children and his household after him, that they should keep the way of the Lord.
THE shipwrecked crew were kindly received by the barbarous people of Melita. A rain having come on, the whole company were drenched and shivering, and the islanders kindled an immense fire of brushwood, and welcomed them all to its grateful warmth. Paul was among the most active in collecting fuel. As he was placing a bundle of sticks upon the fire, a viper that had been suddenly revived from its torpor by the heat, darted from the fagots and fastened upon his hand. The bystanders were horror-stricken, and seeing by his chain that Paul was a prisoner, they said to one another, “No doubt this man is a murderer, whom, though he hath escaped the sea, yet vengeance suffereth not to live.”
But Paul shook off the creature into the fire, and suffered no harm. Knowing its venomous nature, they watched him closely for some time, expecting every moment to see him fall down, writhing in terrible agony. But as no unpleasant results followed, they changed their minds, and, like the people of Lystra, said that he was a god. By this circumstance Paul gained a strong influence over the islanders, and he sought faithfully to employ it in leading them to accept the truths of the gospel.
For three months the ship’s company remained at Melita. During this time Paul and his fellow-laborers improved every opportunity to preach the gospel. The Lord wrought through them in a remarkable manner and for Paul’s sake the entire company were treated with great kindness; all their wants were supplied, and upon leaving they were liberally provided with everything needful for their voyage. The chief incidents of their stay are thus briefly related by Luke:—
“In the same quarters were possessions of the chief man of the island, whose name was Publius, who received us, and lodged us three days courteously. And it came to pass, that the father of Publius lay sick of a fever and of a bloody flux; to whom Paul entered in, and prayed, and layed his hands on him, and healed him. So when this was done, others also, which had diseases in the island, came, and were healed; who also honored us with many honors, and when we departed, they laded us with such things as were necessary.”
With the opening of navigation, the centurion and his prisoners again set out on their journey. An Alexandrian ship, the Castor and Pollux, had wintered at Melita, on her way to Rome, and in this the travelers embarked. Though somewhat delayed, by contrary winds, the voyage was safely accomplished, and the ship cast anchor in the beautiful harbor of Puteoli, on the coast of Italy.
There were a few Christians in this place, who entreated the apostle to remain with them seven days, and the privilege was kindly granted by the centurion. Since receiving Paul’s Epistle to the Romans, the Christians of Italy had eagerly looked forward to a visit from the apostle. They had little expected to see him in chains as a prisoner, but his sufferings only endeared him to them the more. The distance from Puteoli to Rome being but a hundred and forty miles, and the seaport being in constant communication with the metropolis, the Roman Christians were informed of Paul’s approach, and some of them started to meet and welcome him.
On the eighth day after landing, the centurion and his prisoners set out for Rome. Julius willingly granted the apostle every favor which it was in his power to bestow; but he could not change his condition as a prisoner, or release him from the chain that bound him to his soldier guard. It was with a heavy heart that Paul went forward to his long-expected visit to the world’s metropolis. How different the circumstances from what he had anticipated! How was he, fettered and stigmatized as a criminal, to proclaim the gospel? His hopes of winning many souls to the truth at Rome, seemed destined to be disappointed.
The travelers reach Appii Forum, forty miles from Rome. As they make their way through the crowds that throng the great thoroughfare, the gray-haired old man, chained with a group of hardened-looking criminals, receives many a glance of scorn, and is made the subject of many a rude, mocking jest. Not one of all he meets bestows upon him a look of pity or sympathy. He meekly wears his chain, and silently, slowly pursues his way.
Suddenly a cry of joy is heard, and a man springs out from the passing throng and falls upon the prisoner’s neck, embracing him with tears and rejoicing, as a son would welcome a long absent father. Again and again is the scene repeated. With eyes made keen by loving expectation, many discern in the chained captive the one who spoke to them the words of life at Corinth, at Philippi, or at Ephesus.
The whole company is brought to a standstill, as warm-hearted disciples eagerly flock around their father in the gospel. The soldiers are impatient of delay, yet they have not the heart to interrupt this happy meeting; for they too have learned to respect and esteem their prisoner. In that worn, pain-stricken face, the disciples see the image of Christ reflected. They assure Paul that they have not forgotten him or ceased to love him; that they are indebted to him for the joyful hope which animates their lives, and gives them peace toward God. In the ardor of their love they would bear him upon their shoulders the whole way to the city, could they but have the privilege.
Few realize the significance of those words of Luke, that when Paul saw his brethren, “he thanked God and took courage.” The apostle praised God aloud in the midst of that weeping, sympathizing throng, who were not ashamed of his bonds. The cloud of sadness that had rested upon his spirit had been swept away. He felt that his labors had not been in vain. Although his Christian life had been a succession of trials, sufferings, and disappointments, he felt in that hour abundantly repaid.
He rejoiced that he had been permitted to preach Christ, to bring the light of eternal life and peace to so many souls who had been in the grossest darkness, without hope, and without God in the world. His step is firm, his heart joyful in hope. He will not complain of the past, or fear for the future. He knows that bonds and afflictions await him; but he knows too that it has been his life-work to deliver souls from a bondage infinitely more terrible, and he rejoices in his sufferings for Christ’s sake.—Sketches from the Life of Paul.
Keeping God’s Commandments
“My son, keep my words, and lay up my commandments with thee.” Prov. 7: 1.
Duties of Superintendents.
By John O. Corliss
It is sometimes difficult to find a proper person for superintendent, especially in small schools in the country, as it often happens that no one of the church or company is fully qualified to fill the position. In such cases, the best that can be done is to select one who has the most natural fitness for the place, and encourage him to go ahead. It frequently happens, though, that persons of this class are the very ones who do not want the position, and excuse themselves on the plea of inability; but if really urged they will consent to "act" till somebody is chosen.
Superintendents vary in efficiency according to the interest and prayerfulness maintained by them. The following are examples and their attending results:—
1. One superintendent goes to the school, but he has picked out no hymns to sing, and has given no thought to the opening exercises. Listlessly turning the leaves of the hymn book, he finally gives out a piece to sing, which is as likely as not to be inappropriate, and the old stereotyped prayer is offered; this kills the life and interest of the school in the outset. A lack of promptness and freshness characterizes all the exercises, and at the close of the school no good impression has been made, simply because the superintendent lacked a little wholesome interest in his work.
2. Another being chosen who is somewhat gifted in speech-making, determines to exhaust his resources, if need be, in bringing the school up to what he conceives to be a model pattern; and as the programme gives a certain amount of time to "general remarks," he improves it to the last moment in remarks so decidedly "general" that none see his points, and all are glad when he is through. On yielding to his successor, he too may look back and see "failure" written on his work; unless, perchance, before it is too late, he sees the defect, and provides a remedy to avert the impending calamity. This can be done. If superintendents who have a gift for speech-making can cure themselves in no other way, let them do it on the plan adopted by a certain chorister in the Presbyterian Church, who afterwards joined the Society of Friends. The old habit of singing still clung to him, but he did not think it right to give way to it in the presence of others. So when the impulse became irresistible, he retired to his chamber and sang alone. In like manner, superintendents when they feel a speech "coming on," might make it without disturbing the school.
3. A third enters upon his duties with a deep sense of his own incompetency, yet feeling that he will try to discharge his responsibilities in the fear of God, and by his help make a success of the work. He enters the school, commences promptly, and goes on calmly with all the exercises, without evincing a doubt as to what comes next, or how it is to be done. There is nothing boisterous or indecorous in his conduct; but he moves quietly about the room, arranging classes and giving instruction, until by the tap of the bell he is admonished that the time for general questions has arrived. These he puts in such a manner that all feel he is well acquainted with the lesson, while his method gives life and freshness to the exercises, and inspires teachers and pupils with more energy and to greater thoroughness in the work.
The secret of his success lies in the fact that from week to week he prepares himself, by study and prayer, for the discharge of his duties. He studies the lesson thoroughly in all its parts, being careful to ascertain the bearing one point has upon another, and the relation each sustains to the whole. He also studies carefully, not only the general wants of the school, but those of each class separately, and the capacity of every pupil under his watch, care. When difficulties present themselves that he knows not how to surmount, he prays to God—prays earnestly for wisdom to direct the work to a successful issue, and that those under his charge may be brought into the fold of Christ.
But no superintendent can do the work expected of him without the co-operation of the entire school. Without it he may plan ever so wisely, only to see each scheme thwarted. How to secure this should be the first effort of the superintendent, and there is only one successful way to accomplish such a thing. In large schools where the members are not too widely separated, a teachers' meeting should be held each week, in which all the plans for conducting the school should be discussed. The lesson for the coming Sabbath should also be rehearsed, and every difficult point settled, that there may be uniformity of teaching on the Sabbath. In this way each teacher may be thoroughly acquainted beforehand with every movement of the superintendent, and be ready to co-operate with him. There may be schools where it is not practicable for the teachers to meet every week. In that case they might make it convenient to meet every alternate week, or at least once a month, and the oftener the better for the good of the school. Without some such meetings the school will become more or less monotonous.
The Sabbath-school superintendent may feel that his sphere is contracted, and long for a wider field of usefulness; but he should be careful that the work intrusted to him in this direction is done in a manner to commend him to God. Although it may seem to him to be a small work, yet it is a precious one, and great in the sight of God. J. O. Corliss.
Connecting Bible Truths
By Trumbull
No TRUTH is independent of any other truth; but each truth is linked to every other by invisible lines running out in all directions, and meeting and crossing the similar lines which pass between other truths. This is just as true in the sphere of the Sabbath-school teacher as in any other sphere. A teacher may have to tell of Adam, or Seth, or Methuselah; but from the truth regarding these, he can, if he wishes, follow up the connecting line to any other truth of the Bible, and even to Him who is himself the truth of the Bible. And for the same reason the teacher will find it not only possible, but profitable, to connect every lesson as he goes along with the whole series of lessons which preceded it, however dissimilar these may seem to be. There are connecting links; and they ought to be found. By so doing a teacher will discover that truths which are linked in his own mind are also linked together in the minds of his scholars, and he will be surprised at the swiftness with which their minds will leap, unprompted, from a truth which he has mentioned to one which he has in mind, and which he believed had been suggested to himself alone.