Earlier text: MISSIONARY ADDRESSIS THE BIBLE TRUE?
By C. Patterson
Honest skeptic, what say you?
Tell me, is the Bible true?
Do you doubt it came from Heaven,
Sent by God, in mercy given,
So that man his will might know,
And be saved from coming woe?
Come and let us reason, then:
Tell me how those ancient men
Did earth’s history portray,
So remote from their own day.
Did you ever think of this,
How that nothing comes amiss,
But that every jot and tittle,
Both of great events and little,
Have each come up in their lot,
Not one item been forgot?
Did the prophets speak at will?
Had they power to fulfill
Every word that they have spoken,
And the chain remain unbroken
That has spanned prophetic time
In each nation, in each clime,
Ever since our fallen race
Had on earth a dwelling-place?
Would you know that this is true?
Take the pains, then, to review
Each prediction they have penned
Of the rise, the reign, the end
Of the greatest kings of earth,
Both before and after birth;
Tell me, then, how they could know
That events would happen so. Do you still the truth deny?
Hear Isaiah’s prophecy:
Hark! he Cyrus called by name
Many years before he came,
Telling wonders he should do;
How he Babylon would subdue,
And after her overthrow
He would let God’s people go:
“Not for price, nor for reward,”
But in honor of their Lord,
He their country would restore,
And their temple build once more.
Honest skeptic, what say you?
Tell me, is the Bible true? Turn again—to Daniel look;
Study well that wondrous book;
See the visions he explained
Of the kingdoms that have reigned,
Mark where empires rose and fell;
Tell me then—if you can tell—
What the next great change shall be
Ere we reach eternity.
Are we in “the feet and toes”
Of that “image” which arose
Measuring all the coast of time,
Every landmark, every line,
Till the kingdoms under heaven
To the saints of God are given,
And Messiah’s reign shall be
Wide as earth—from sea to sea?
Honest skeptic, what say you?
Tell me, is the Bible true? Will you—can you answer me,
Telling how these things could be
Unless God inspired the men
Thus to wield the sacred pen?—
Showing them the rise and fall
Of earth’s kingdoms, great and small,
Even down to our own day,
Where, “the iron mixed with clay”
Shall like summer chaff be driven,
Scattered to the winds of heaven,
And His glory fill the earth,
Greater than at Eden’s birth,
When the songs of morning stars
Woke a strain of praise in Mars,
And “the sons of God” were there,
Shouting o’er a world so fair.
Honest skeptic, what say you?
Tell me, is the Bible true? —C. Patterson, in Messiah’s Herald. Singing and Praying.
By Frank Starr
“Is any among you afflicted? let him pray. Is any merry? let him sing psalms.” Jas. 5:13. This advice, if heeded, would be profitable to the tried and tempted ones, as prayer and praise have their proper times. But are not these directions often unheeded? Is there not an inclination, in times of mental depression and conflict with the tempter, to resort, as did Saul of old, to the influence of music to soothe the troubled mind? Though this had, temporarily, a tranquilizing effect, the cause of the difficulty was not removed, and Saul received no permanent benefit. Can we expect better results, if we take the same course? “As vinegar upon nitre, so is he that singeth songs to an heavy heart.” How often mirth is used to smother conviction; but it is like the drum-beating of the pagans to drown the cries of their sacrificed infants, expiring in the arms of Moloch. Our convictions are for our good; they are not to be trifled with, for God’s Spirit will not always strive with us in this way. When the power of conviction or temptation is felt, we should wrestle in prayer as did Jacob; and when we obtain relief, we can sing as did the Israelites after crossing the Red Sea. There is no song like the song of deliverance. We can then sing with the spirit, and make melody in our hearts to the Lord. Col. 3:16; Eph. 5:19. But to resort to music when one should pray, is a violation of the rule found in Jas. 5. Such singing is not done with the spirit and with the understanding. “Is any among you afflicted? let him pray.” What good comes of it? Do you simply profess it? or do you really possess it? Does it make you more amiable? Or are you just as harsh, petulant, and irritable as the unregenerated? Does it make you more kindly, forgiving, and generous, with a spirit which wishes well to all mankind? Or are you selfish, narrow-minded, unforgiving? Does it resign you to the inevitable? Is it a comfort in times of affliction? a support when you meet with losses, reverses, and calamities? Can you contemplate death with composure and equanimity? Do you believe “in the promises,” that all will be well with the good? Are you resigned? Can you truly say, “Thy will be done”? If you are a Christian, you will “do as you would be done by,” seek the good of others, rather than personal gratification—will be just, hopeful, forgiving, cheerful, trusting, charitable. A Christian will carefully regulate his propensities, guard against a sordid love of money, vain pride or egotism, an acrimonious temper, fault-finding, unjust suspicion, jealousy, deception, or double-dealing, or doing anything which the great Teacher, Christ himself, would not have approved. A truly vital religion elevates and improves; spurious religion, or hypocrisy, corrupts and leads downward. A true Christian worships God “in sincerity and in truth,” and looks more to the adornment of his mind than his body. A contemporary says: “I have seen a woman professing to love Christ more than the world, clad in a silk dress costing $75; making up and trimming of same, $40; bonnet (or apology for one), $35; velvet mantle, $150; diamond ring, $500; watch, chain, pin, and other trappings, $300; total, $1,100—all hung upon one frail mortal. I have seen her at a meeting in behalf of homeless wanderers in New York, wipe her eyes upon an embroidered handkerchief—costing $10—at the story of their sufferings, and when the contribution box came round, take from a well-filled wallet of costly workmanship twenty-five cents to aid the society formed to promote their welfare. Ah, thought I, dollars for ribbons and pennies for Christ’s children!” How is it with the men? What amount do they spend on their indulgence in costly dinners, wine, liquor, and tobacco, that should be used for good purposes? How much for mere pleasure excursions, visiting watering-places, and in dissipation and flirtations? How much for fast horses, stylish equipages, and vain display? Are the clergy themselves exempt from all these things? Are vestrymen, deacons, and other church officers, all circumspect and consistent Christians? Are all those who sing praises to Him in sacred song actuated by an exalted Christian spirit? or are they ambitious for worldly honors, eager for wages, or for the praises of flattering tongues? How shocking to a devout mind it is to witness the utter want of reverence in a person approaching his Maker with a manner of indifference, as though he were an auctioneer about to harangue a body of tobacco-buyers. Such scenes may be witnessed not a thousand miles from New York. True religion is not a cloak to cover up sin, though impostors so use it. Nor is it a means by which the purse-proud, the arrogant, or haughty Pharisee can secure happiness here or hereafter. True religion brings blessings to its possessor, let his worldly circumstances be what they may. Reader, be not deceived; see to it that your religion is founded on the truth, With Christ for your guide, teacher, companion, you cannot remain in error nor go far wrong.—Phonological Journal. The restriction which the apostle laid upon believers, that they should marry “only in the Lord,” means not only that they should not marry open infidels and pagans, but even the Jews themselves who did not believe in the Lord Jesus. “In the Lord” signified, in the faith of Jesus Christ. This was at that time the present, testing truth; and those who did not believe it, were, to those who did, infidels, that is, simply unbelievers. They were out of Christ, whatever profession of religion they might make, whether they were pagans, or those who professed faith in the Scriptures, as did the Jews. An unbelieving Jew would be even more likely to have an influence to turn away a believer, than one who professed no religion at all akin to the true. So it is at the present time. To those who believe that the last merciful message of the gospel is present truth, others must be accounted unbelievers; and such as hold tenaciously to the Christian religion, and yet reject the special, saving truth for our time, are more to be feared for their influence than they would be, had they not a religious faith with which they are so perfectly satisfied. Said Paul, “Be ye not unequally yoked together with unbelievers; for what fellowship hath righteousness with unrighteousness? and what communion hath light with darkness? And what concord hath Christ with Belial? or what part hath he that believeth with an infidel?” 2 Cor. 6:14, 15. “Can two walk together, except they be agreed?” The truth which we believe, is a separating truth, as was the faith of Jesus in its beginning. The Sabbath is a distinguishing, separating truth. It is intended and well calculated to cleave the believer out from the world. The observance of different days as sacred time, may seem, at first thought, to be a very small thing; but in social life it is sometimes a very great inconvenience. But two Sabbaths in one family is a thing to be deprecated. It is next to an impossibility; and very much like no Sabbath at all. Children reared under such opposing influences will probably regard no day. Those unfortunate persons who find themselves in such circumstances, and therefore obliged to endure it, are truly to be pitied. They must do the best they can to maintain a good conscience and please God, and he will help them. But those who are free, and consider this thing in its true bearing, will not venture voluntarily upon an experiment so hazardous. The exercise of good sense on either side would prevent such an undertaking. With the believer, God and his truth should be of first importance. No matrimonial alliance should be entered into, without carefully and prayerfully considering whether God can approve it. Ah! how true it is that “the hour that witnesses the marriage of many young men and women, closes the history of their religious experience and usefulness.” God will sustain and finally reward that person who, when brought into a place which tests religious principle, can frankly say, “I am a conscientious Christian. I believe the seventh day of the week to be the Sabbath of the Bible. Our faith and principles are such that they lead in opposite directions. We cannot be happy together; for if I follow on to gain a more perfect knowledge of the will of God, I shall become more and more unlike the world, and more assimilated to the likeness of Jesus Christ. If you continue to see no loveliness in Christ, no attractions in the truth, you will love the world, which I cannot love, while I shall love the things of God, which you cannot love.” THE DARK DAY.
By Ella A. Drinkwater
Of all the wonderful stories that my great-grandmother used to tell my mother when she was a little girl, the most wonderful was about the dark day in New England, Friday, May 19, 1780. This was during our Revolution, you will remember, and the same year in which the traitor, Benedict Arnold, attempted to betray his country to its enemies. For several days before the 19th the air was full of vapors, as we often see it when fires are raging in the woods near us; and the sun and moon appeared red, and their usual clear light did not reach us, especially when rising and setting. The wind blew chiefly from the southwest and northeast, and the weather was cool and clear. The morning of the 19th was cloudy, and in many places slight showers fell, sometimes accompanied by thunder and lightning; but as the sun arose, it did not increase the light, and the darkness deepened and deepened, until the children standing before the tall clocks could not see to tell the time, and older people peering over the almanac were not able to distinguish the letters. The birds sang their evening songs and flew to their nests in the woods, the poultry hurried to their roosts, while the cattle in the fields uttered strange cries and leaped the stone fences to gain their stalls, and the sheep all huddled together, bleating piteously. Color, which you know depends upon the light of the sun, filled many with astonishment by its unusual appearance; for the clouds were in some places of a light red, yellow, and brown; the leaves on the trees and the grass in the meadows were of the deepest green, verging on indigo; the brightest silver seemed tarnished, and everything that is white in the sunlight bore a deep yellow hue. The shadows, which before noon fall to the westward and after noon to the eastward, were observed during the darkness to fall in every direction. The rain, also, was unlike any other rain, and it set the people to wondering as they dipped it from tubs and barrels; for a scum, resembling burnt leaves and emitting a sooty smell, formed on the water; and this same substance was seen on rivers, especially the Merrimac, where it lay four or five inches thick, for many miles along its shore. Another peculiarity was the vapor. In many localities it descended to the earth from high in the atmosphere; but at one point the vapors, at about nine o'clock, were seen rising from the springs and lowlands; one column in particular was noticed rapidly ascending far above the highest hills, where it spread into a large white cloud and sailed off to the westward; a second cloud formed in the same way, from the same springs, but did not rise as high as the first, and a third formed fifteen minutes afterward. At a quarter of ten the uppermost cloud was of a reddish hue, the second was green, indigo, and blue, and the third was almost white. So unwholesome was this vapor that small birds were suffocated in it; and many of them were so frightened and stupefied that they flew into the houses, adding to the fears of ignorant people, who considered it a bad sign for a bird to enter a dwelling. The commencement of the darkness was between ten and eleven o'clock in the forenoon (when the men were busy in the fields and offices and workshops, the women spinning, weaving, and preparing dinner, and the children at school, or helping their fathers and mothers at home), and it continued until the middle of the following night; but the degree of darkness varied; in some places the disk of the sun was visible when the darkness was the most dense. Lights were seen burning in all the houses, and the people passing out-of-doors carried torches and lanterns, which were curiously reflected on the overhanging clouds. Thousands of people were sure that the end of the world had come; many dropped their work and fell on their knees to pray; others confessed to their fellows the wrongs they had done, and endeavored to make restitution. The meeting-houses were crowded, neighborhood prayer-meetings were formed, and the ministers and old church-members prayed long prayers, mentioning the nations and individuals of Bible times who had been destroyed on account of their sins, and begging that as God spared the great city of Nineveh when it repented, so he would forgive them, cheer them again by the light of the sun, and give victory to their armies. It is said that the Connecticut Legislature being in session, the members became terrified when they could not see each other's faces, and a motion was made to adjourn, when Mr. Davenport arose and said:— “Mr. Speaker, it is either the day of Judgment or it is not. If it is not, there is no need of adjourning; if it is, I desire to be found doing my duty. I move that candles be brought, and that we proceed to business.” All the shivering, frightened people now began to look forward to evening, hoping that, as the moon arose full at nine o'clock, her light would penetrate the gloom; but all the children who coaxed to sit up and see her, grew very sleepy, and their strained eyes were not rewarded by her beautiful beams, for at eight in the evening the darkness was total; one could not distinguish between the earth and the heavens, and it was impossible to see a hand before one's face. Then all the weary children were sent to bed, after the most honest prayers that they had ever prayed; and the old people sat up to watch for the light that had never before appeared so glorious. And never dawned a fairer morning than the 20th of May; for the sun that opened the flowers and mirrored itself in the dew-drops, brought the color again to the children's faces and filled every heart with confidence. The birds sang joyously, the cattle returned to their pastures, the places of business were opened, and every one went about his work more gentle toward man and more grateful toward God. After the darkness was past, several persons traveled about to gather all possible information concerning this memorable day, and Dr. Tenney wrote an account of what he learned while on a journey from the East to Pennsylvania. He says the deepest darkness was in Essex county, Mass., the lower part of New Hampshire, and the eastern portion of Maine (where my great-grandmother lived.) In Rhode Island and Connecticut it was not so great; in New Jersey peculiar clouds were observable, but the darkness was not uncommon; and in the lower parts of Pennsylvania nothing unusual was observed. The darkness extended as far north as the American settlements and westward to Albany, but its exact limits could not be ascertained. In Boston it continued fourteen or fifteen hours, varying in duration at other places. As it was impossible to attribute the darkness to an eclipse, the wise people formed many theories respecting it, being convinced that it was due to immense fires in the woods, winds blowing in opposite directions, or to the condition of the vapors; but Herschel says: “The dark day in Northern America was one of those wonderful phenomena of Nature which will always be read of with interest, but which philosophy is at a loss to explain.”—Ella A. Drinkwater, in St. Nicholas. “FASHIONABLE” dress and equipage are the uniform of the army of “the god of this world,” and fashionable customs are his tactics. Why should Christians adopt them? See Rom. 12:1, 2; 1 John 2:15, 16. Many a soldier of Christ has been infected with the clothing, or taken prisoner by the tactics, and millions of the Lord’s money have been taken from his work by these devices of the enemy. How long shall this course continue? Shall Christians still ask of Paris, or of any other worldly fashionable center, instructions how to live?—Selected. Two cannot walk together,
Unless they are agreed;
One dictates the direction,
The other must accede;
One chooses to walk crooked,
The other to walk straight,—
This cannot be effected
Unless they separate. Light cannot dwell with darkness,
They cannot be agreed;
For if the one advances,
The other must recede;
Christ has no part with Satan,
They ever must be twain;
And there is no agreement
With God and idols vain. So those who are disciples
Of Christ, the blessed Lord,
Must choose companions only
Whose faith and hope accord.
No partnerships whatever
With others should be made,
Lest Christians prove apostates,
And Christ should be betrayed. One loves the blessed Saviour,
And waits for his return,
While on affection’s altar
The fires celestial burn;
The other loves the present,
All earthly his desire—
The constant-pouring water
Extinguishes the fire. And speak we of the union
Preferred to that from birth,
A tie which brings communion
Most intimate on earth?
Two cannot walk together
Unless there be accord;
Therefore the great apostle
Said, “Only in the Lord.” “DEAL GENTLY.”
By Eliza H. Morton
The human heart is strangely wrought,
With good and evil ever fraught. AND those who have the oversight of the young should be diligent students of human nature. Children differ in disposition, mental ability, moral power, and physical strength, even as the plants in the garden differ in variety, form, color, and perfume. What refreshing dew is to the tender flower, kindness is to the youthful heart. Sarcasm and ridicule, like sharp arrows, pierce the very soul, and sensitive natures are often made to suffer untold agony by careless, cutting words dropped from the lips of those who teach. It is not the fault but the misfortune of a dull child that he is stupid; and those teachers who by cutting words discourage such pupils, are not worthy of their calling. Revenge, hatred, and distrust, are among the evil passions of the soul, and harshness and severe censure awaken these emotions and crush out every noble and worthy element. It is often necessary to point out errors, correct faults, and firmly enforce rules; but it is possible to do this in a manner calculated to awaken feelings of respect and love. Earnest, calm, and gentle words are more powerful than passionate, hasty expressions. Christ rebuked sin, exposed iniquity and fearlessly upheld the right, yet his character was peculiarly gentle and loving. Teachers who look for perfection in their pupils, will be sadly disappointed; for “perfection is not of earth.” The spirit of criticism, unmingled with encouraging words, may be cultivated to such an extent as to crush out every tender feeling of the heart, and at length lead the soul into infidelity. Children surrounded by such influences soon learn to watch for flaws in moral character, and detecting them, denounce the individuals and the truths they profess. Robertson says that “nothing chills the heart like universal distrust. Nothing freezes the genial current of the soul so much as doubts of human nature.” When young people leave their homes and go among strangers to obtain an education, they need friends; and if they find them not among the good and the pure, they will find them in the lowest grades of society, and be led to ruin. Teachers should realize this, and be ever ready to sympathize with, advise, assist, and encourage those who need help. The loneliness of soul felt by sensitive natures in a strange land is touchingly described by another: “There are times when hands touch ours but only send an icy chill of unsympathizing indifference to the heart,—when eyes gaze into ours but with a glazed look that cannot read into the bottom of our souls,—when words pass from our lips but only come back as an echo reverberating without replying, through a dreary solitude,—when the multitudes throng and press us, and we cannot say, as Christ said, ‘Somebody hath touched me!’” These are no doubt the feelings of many students, and happy is the teacher who has the magic power, the subtle influence, and the divine wisdom to guide, lead, mold, educate, and ennoble those with whom they come in contact. We are all tending to “that quiet country where the voice of praise and the voice of blame are alike unheard;” and it is well to “deal gently,” for “earth’s dream will soon be done,” life’s labor ended, and in the great Tribunal we shall cry, “Deal gently” with us, O our God! A WORD TO BOYS.
By Frank H. Converse
You all wish, and doubtless mean, to be or to do something in your day and generation; that is, presuming you have an average amount of common sense. “But,” you say, “we want to have a good time, too.” Well, whether you will or not depends considerably upon your ideas of enjoyment. If you expect to find it in the way in which certain story papers represent enjoyment, you will utterly and entirely fail. If, on the other hand, you are content to take what comes into every well-regulated, decent life in the way of honest, legitimate amusement, that is quite another thing. But one thing remember. God put no one here on earth to be brought up to manhood by hand. To eat, drink, and be merry, and trust to luck for the result, is fatal to soul and body. Our own hands are to be put to practical use. To a great extent we make our own luck, we forge our own fate, and as we do this trusting to the Helper of all, so is the future result. No matter what unsound reading may say about it, there is no such thing as drawing through life with one’s hands in his pockets, squeezing only the sweetness out of existence, and throwing away the bitter rind, as though life were a Florida orange. Mind, this is not preaching, so don’t skip. And let me say that there is something more dear, boys,—something better,—than the life of success to which I hope you all aspire. It is not only to be an honorable, upright man in your dealings with mankind, but it is also to become a disciple of the Lord Jesus Christ. It is not only here that you are to prepare for, but hereafter. God help you all to do it.—Frank H. Converse, in Christian Weekly. THE following pointed remarks on an educated ministry, from the S. S. Times, are quite as applicable to Seventh-day Adventist ministers as to any others. They should be the best of soldiers; for they are called to “the most exposed and dangerous fields.” Are the best talents that we have any too good to give to the service of God in this great closing message of mercy and warning? Whatever hostility exists toward a “learned ministry,” is not usually to be found among those Christian laborers who are most zealous and effective in religious work. The history of the Christian church shows that the men who have been most earnest and successful in reaching the ignorant have been the very ones to press most strongly the advantage religion may gain from the possession of sound learning. The great reformers and missionaries and evangelists of Christianity have not been preachers who believed they could do their best work without hard study and unremitting intellectual exercise. When the late Dr. Alexander Duff found himself at the head of the representative body of the Free Church of Scotland, he did not emphasize the need of zeal alone, in the missionary fields with which he was so familiar. He spoke still more strongly of the need of learning, as a weapon of the Christian worker. “It ought,” he said, “to be counted one of the chiefest glories of our church that, from the very outset, she resolved, with God’s blessing, to secure not only a pious, but a learned ministry. What we desiderate is, learning in inseparable combination with devoted piety.” Then he went on to show that as learning without piety freezes the soul, so does piety without learning tend to fanaticism and conceit. That was the lesson, as Dr. Duff learned it,—that the best soldiers are needed for the most exposed and dangerous fields. SILENT FORCES.
By Alexander Clark
WORKMEN in the stone quarries sometimes find a very hard kind of rock. They pick little grooves for the iron wedges, and then, with great sledge-hammers, drive and drive the wedges into the flinty rock. And yet, once in a while, they fail to divide the solid mass. The iron wedges and the sledges prove useless, and the workmen wonder at the stubborn rock. But there is yet another way. The iron wedges are removed from the narrow grooves. Then little wooden wedges of a very hard fiber are selected. Now you begin to shake your heads and think, “Well, if iron wedges will not do, how is it possible for wooden wedges to be used successfully?” Just wait until we explain. The sharp, well-made wooden wedges are first put into water. They are then inserted in the grooves tightly while wet, and water is kept in the grooves, and no sledge is needed to drive them. They would break under the severe blows of the ponderous hammer. But the workmen just let the wet wedges alone. They will do what the driven iron failed to do. How so? The damp wood swells. The particles must have room to enlarge. And the granite hearts of the rock cannot withstand this silent influence. In a little while the solid rock parts from top to bottom, and the workmen’s will is accomplished. It is so often in other things. What noise and visible effort fail to do, some quiet power, when applied, will surely achieve. Teachers may remember this fact in mechanics, and manage some very stubborn natures by the application of the silent forces. The iron and the sledge-hammers often fail. But tears, prayers, and a patient example never fail.—Alexander Clark. Dampening Effect of the Ten Commandments
—“What shall I preach about?” said a minister to the pastor of a colored flock which he was to address. “Well, mos’ any subject will be ’ceptable,” was the reply; “only I’d like to gib you one word ob caution.” “Ah! what is that?” “Well, ef I was you, I’d touch werry light on de ten commandments.” “Indeed! and why?” “Oh, cos I hab notise dat dey mos’ always hab a damp’nin’ effect on de congregation.” The pastor of the colored flock and his audience are not the only ones of the kind. The plain facts of the Bible have a very dampening effec’ on a large number of Caucasian audiences; and not a few of their pastors have learned that the “ten commandments” are very unpopular. Lord Industrial School and Working-Men's Reading Room
—For many years there has existed in the First Ward of New York City the “Lord Industrial School and Working-men’s Public Reading Room,” an institution which is quietly performing a most useful work. The school was organized to teach, and to such extent as is needful to clothe and feed, and to train to industrious habits, the destitute street children of the First Ward. The reading-room, which is free to all, is much frequented by working-men, the average attendance being about seven hundred a week. It contains a good selection of religious and secular journals, and these, with the books supplied by the library, form attractions strong enough to win many a man to spend his evenings there rather than in a drinking saloon. Fisk University Enrollment and Growth at Nashville
—Fisk University, at Nashville, Tenn., now has 331 enrolled students, 92 of whom, or nearly a third, are from 13 different States. This institution is constantly increasing its numbers and usefulness; several hundred of its graduates are engaged in teaching, and 115 of the present pupils are already teachers. Princeton Graduates and Skepticism Under Dr. McCosh
—Dr. McCosh, of Princeton College, says that of over 1,000 students who have graduated from that institution under his care, only four were skeptics, and three of them are now preachers of the gospel. Sorrows Seen from a Distance
—Sorrows are like thunder-clouds; in the distance they look black, over our heads hardly gray. UNHEEDED PSALMS.
By Mary Bowles
God hath his solitudes, unspeopled yet,
Save by the peaceful life of bird and flower,
Where, since the world's foundation, he hath set
The hiding of his power. Year after year his rains make fresh and green
Lone wastes of prairie, where, as daylight goes,
Legions of bright-hued blossoms all unseen
Their carven petals close. Year after year unnumbered forest leaves
Expand and darken to their perfect prime;
Each smallest growth its destiny achieves
In his appointed time. Amid the strong recesses of the hills,
Fixed by his word, immutable and calm,
The murmuring river all the silence fills
With its unheeded psalm. From deep to deep the floods lift up their voice,
Because his hand hath measured them of old;
The far out-goings of the morn rejoice
His wonders to unfold. The smallest cloudlet wrecked in distant storms,
That wanders homeless through the summer skies,
Is reckoned in his purposes, and forms
One of his argosies. Where the perpetual mountains patient wait,
Girded with purity, before his throne,
Keeping from age to age, inviolate
Their everlasting crown; Where the long-gathering waves of ocean break
With ceaseless music o’er untrodden strands,
From isles that day by day in silence wake,
From earth’s remotest lands, The anthem of his praise shall uttered be;
All works created on his name shall call,
And laud and bless his holy name, for he
Hath pleasure in them all. —Mary Bowles, in the Sunday Magazine. JERICHO
By Eugenia Ralston
ANCIENT Jericho was situated on the plain of Jericho, at the western border of the Ghor, as the Jordan valley is called. It was six or seven miles from the Jordan, and about eighteen miles northeast of Jerusalem. It was the first city taken by Joshua on entering the promised land; and although it was surrounded by strong walls, the Lord gave it into the hands of his people without their striking a single blow. All that was required on their part was faith and prompt obedience. Joshua set fire to the city, and such parts as were not burned, he tore down, thus completely destroying it. A curse was pronounced upon the one who should rebuild it; namely, that when he should lay the foundations of the wall, he would lose his oldest son, and when it was finished, would be deprived of his youngest. Five hundred years afterward, in the reign of Ahab, it was rebuilt by Hiel, upon whom this curse fell. A short distance back of the city rises Mount Quarantana, a desolate, barren hill, which, according to tradition, was the scene of our Saviour’s temptation. At the foot of this mountain, on the southeast side, is a wonderful fountain, thought to be identical with the one whose waters Elijah healed. It bursts forth from the eastern base of a high, double mound; and its waters are clear and beautiful, as well as pleasant to the taste. This fountain and others in its vicinity rendered that part of the plain of Jericho exceedingly fertile. Josephus calls it “a divine region,” and says that it abounded in gardens and many different kinds of palms; the latter were so numerous that Jericho was called “the city of palm-trees.” The land is still very fertile, but the inhabitants are too indolent to cultivate it. They leave this work for the mountaineers, who sow and reap on shares. The Jericho of our Saviour’s time is supposed to have been about a mile and a half, in a southwesterly direction, from the site of the ancient city. Herod the Great, having bought it from Cleopatra, made it a magnificent city. It was on the great camel-route between Egypt and Damascus, and this, with its fine buildings, made it quite a popular place. Directly west of the city opens the famous Wady Kelt, through which flows a small stream supposed to be the brook Cherith. Mr. Porter says, “The Kelt is one of the wildest ravines in this wild region. In some places it is not less than five hundred feet deep, and just wide enough at the bottom to give passage to a streamlet like a silver thread, and to afford space for its narrow fringe of oleanders. The banks are almost sheer precipices of naked limestone, and here and there pierced with the dark openings of caves and grottoes, in some one of which probably Elijah lay hid.” The road from Jerusalem to Jericho leads through this valley; and here Christ places the scene of the Good Samaritan. Probably there was no other place so well calculated to bring before the minds of his hearers the picture which he wished to present; for its numerous caverns afford ample protection for thieves and assassins. A modern writer says that, with the exception of the country beyond the Jordan, “It is to-day the most dangerous locality in Palestine.” In relating one of his adventures, he says, “Carelessly, while going through one of the wildest of these gorges, I fell behind my company, and did not awake to the fact of impending peril till a band of seven or eight Bedouins, on foot, met me, all armed with their matchlocks, and presenting the most ferocious and robber-like appearance. One of them stepped up and seized my horse by the bit, while the others stood and looked on; but they offered me no harm. I confess to a slight nervousness, and to an impatience to overtake my party, heightened by the shouts of the men, which echoed from crag to crag, and the rapid ring of the horses’ hoofs in the shadows of the projecting rocks. One must thus actually be in those solitudes to feel the full force and beauty of the admirable tale of the man who here fell among thieves.” A person traveling alone in this gorge must expect to be robbed or killed; for at almost any time may be seen, on the cliffs and in the caverns, the skulking form of some lawless Arab, while his confederates are out of sight, but near by. But Jericho, like the race who once inhabited that region, is a thing of the past. Its substitute is a squalid little village, called Riha, consisting of a few rude huts, and numbering about two hundred inhabitants. Where beauty and wealth once reigned, nothing is left but ruin and desolation. Its fountains are still “beautifully cool and sweet,” and its soil still fertile; but indolence and bad government have made it what it is,—a fulfilment of the denunciations of God against a rebellious people.