Advent Review and Sabbath Herald, Vol. 56, No. 1
THE LORD'S DAY; OR STRONG PROOF IN FAVOR OF THE SABBATHPage 1
Earlier text: THE LORD'S DAY; OR STRONG PROOF IN FAVOR OF THE SABBATH“LIKE MEN THAT WAIT.”
By Mrs. Stephen Menzies
The waiting attitude has been the posture of the church during well-nigh nineteen centuries of her widowhood. We, in the end of these days, are watching and waiting still; or, at least, we profess to be waiting, looking for, and hasting unto that moment of untold glory and blessing, when, not as now through a glass darkly, but face to face, it will be wondrously true, “We see Jesus.” But the practical thought which has been impressed on my own mind, and which I would pass on to others, is the great force which seems conveyed in that little word like—“like men that wait.” How much solemn, practical teaching is suggested by that one little word, like. How it touches every relationship, every duty, every engagement, every association! How very often the testimony, if expressed, of those around us, would be—that God’s children are very unlike “those that wait!” We profess to believe that these are the last days, that the time is short, very short; and yet, whilst we see multitudes around us in darkness, we are hoarding up wealth which God would have us use for the winning of precious jewels, for his crown in the day of his royal espousals. Is this “LIKE MEN THAT WAIT?” We make a profession of love to Christ, we come before God as his people, we sing “Jesus has satisfied,” and yet practically we manifest that Jesus has not satisfied; for we must needs have recourse to the same broken cisterns as the world; we cannot do without our evening at the oratorio, or in the concert-hall, or the ball-room! And the world makes its comments, and utters its surprise that we should be there! And young Christians, in whose heart the Spirit of God is whispering, “Come out from among them, and be ye separate,” are tempted to stifle the divine monition and reply, “But good Mrs. So-and-so was there, and the Rev. So-and-so, and therefore, what harm can there be?” Is this “LIKE MEN THAT WAIT?” We know that the Master has bidden us watch, and at any moment be ready for his coming again; but our tongues are not guarded; we give way to words and looks and tempers far different from those in which we should indulge if we REALLY believed that the Master was at the very door. Is this “LIKE MEN THAT WAIT?” The world around are watching God’s people with keen eyes (would that we saw ourselves as others see us!) nor is it unreasonable that they should observe those who make a profession of being no longer of this world, but “other-worldly”—of living no longer to themselves, but for Christ—of having now fresh motives, fresh aims, fresh principles of action—of having received a new, even a divine life, and of being in living union with the Son of God! Surely such high doctrine should be accompanied with a corresponding high and holy life. Surely the world has a right to expect from such a root, lovely and beautiful fruit! And when we TALK of living in heavenly places with Christ, and yet lose our tempers; when we TALK of living resurrection lives, yet fail to manifest the ordinary transparency and integrity which characterize even men of the world, is it any marvel if they should call us hypocrites! Alas! there have been ample grounds for the charges brought against professing Christians. Surely, therefore, it becomes us as God’s saints to humble ourselves before him in this matter, and solemnly ask, “Am I, in my temper, in my conversation, in my walk before those outside, before my family, in the ordering of my household, in the impress stamped day by day on all around me, am I like or unlike those who wait for their Lord?” Ah! how many things there are which, if we certainly knew that the Lord Jesus would return to-morrow, we should at once begin to alter. If he were here, should we invite his blessed, holy companionship at the forthcoming opera or concert, at our whist parties or the billiard-table? You recoil at the very thought! But surely, if our Master could find no place there, how should his servants, during his absence? If his place and his presence are to be our exceeding great reward ere long, surely, surely, his path and his place here should be our joy and our privilege now. “LIKE UNTO MEN THAT WAIT.” As waiting children, walking in obedience to the Father’s commands, heeding every little word, and walking in love to all the members of the Father’s family. Alas! too often we regard that future life beyond as a totally different and entirely new existence, instead of the continuance and consummation of life in Christ, and for Christ, and with Christ, begun already here. Christ is our life here; Christ will be our life there. Christ is our joy here; Christ will be our joy there. Christ is the center of every aim and effort and motive here; Christ will be the center yonder. “In the midst”—’tis his own place. In the midst of the furnace through which tried saints passed of old; “in the midst” of his gathered, worshiping people here; “in the midst” of his glorified church hereafter. And the more perfectly our life here is assimilated to his life, so will the gulf between the present and the future be proportionably less. “LIKE UNTO MEN THAT WAIT.” Like waiting servants, left for a little while to occupy for our absent Master, to carry on his work: “when he went and sat on the right hand of God,” on his little band of disciples devolved his own mission, “and they went forth and preached.” And have we answered his expectation? Are we holding forth the word of life so clearly that many are by it being led into the way of peace? Is the light never dimmed by the inconsistencies of the lamp-bearer? Are we clean, consecrated vessels—vessels never used otherwise than for the Master’s service and for the Master’s glory? Alas! do we not too often divide off a portion of the day, when the sacred vessel of the sanctuary may be carried down into the world, to grace and adorn a scene where Christ is not, and where the presiding spirit is the god of this world? Is it any marvel that (as is often the case) the world wonders and stands aghast at such a spectacle? Is it any marvel that we hear God’s people bemoaning their barrenness, “My leanness! My leanness”? Is it any marvel that their testimony should be powerless, and that their work should tell so feebly? O fellow-servants of Christ! shall we not flee to our closets and to our knees, and ask that he whose eyes are as a flame of fire would search us through and through, and cleanse every corner of his temple, if need be, with a whip of small cords. “LIKE UNTO MEN THAT WAIT.” His waiting church ready, eagerly longing for her Lord’s return. Ah! is it thus with his church, or has she become unequally yoked with those who have despised and scorned the One who should be so infinitely precious to her? or if not this, has she become stupid and slothful, her affections slumbering, her expectations dulled, and her waiting attitude well-nigh forsaken? We are on the threshold of another year. May it be a proving season to each one of us, and may we seek such a fresh anointing with the Holy Ghost and with power, that whether the waiting days be few or many, we may, in heart, in life, in service, unmistakably manifest to the world, to Christ, and to our fellow-believers, that we ARE “LIKE men that wait;” and being thus like men that wait, we shall ere long enter upon the blessedness of those whom, when he cometh, he shall so find.—Mrs. Stephen Menzies, in Word and Work. BEFORE the soul can enter into the Christian rest it must take up the Christian yoke. The rest which Christianity promises is not magical, but experimental; it is the fruit of experience, and therefore the fruit of struggle; we must learn of Christ before we can rest in him. The Christian religion is never represented as a transition from bondage into license. It is, indeed, represented as a transition from bondage into liberty; but liberty is the opposite of license, freedom the opposite of freedom from law. To be free is not to be emancipated from law, but to be translated from a lower law into a higher. The highest freedom is subjection to the highest law; and the more subject we are, the more entirely are we free. There is a yoke inseparable from the life of humanity. The only question is how it will affect humanity. There are three possible ways in which men may be affected by the yoke of life: they may struggle against it; they may be resigned to it; or they may acquiesce in it. The first state is slavery; the second is service; the third is perfect freedom. When a man reaches the stage of acquiescence, he has taken Christ’s yoke, has voluntarily made it his own. There are two ways of saying, “Thy will be done.” We may say it with that resigned apathy which is nearly allied to despair, or we may say it with that conviction of the divine love which represents the prayer of the angels in Heaven. This last alone is freedom. No man has it in his power to choose whether God’s will shall or shall not be done; the will of God is inevitable. But every man has it in his power to choose whether God’s will shall be his will, whether he shall take, or simply bear, the yoke of Christ. When a man is able to take the yoke, he has ceased to view God’s will as a foreign power; he is no longer under the dominion of law, but law is under his dominion. The will of God has become the expression of his nature; the law of God is the order of his life. —Expositor. In Nebuchadnezzar’s “Standard Inscription,” he says: “With bricks made as hard as stones, I made a way for the branch of the Shimat to the waters of the Yapur Shapu, the great reservoir of Babylon. With two long embankments of brick and mortar, I built the side of the ditch. Across the river, to the west, I built the walls of Babylon with brick. The reservoir I filled completely with water. Besides the outer wall, I constructed inside of Babylon a fortification such as no king had ever made before me, namely, a long rampart five miles square, as an extra defense against presumptuous enemies. Great waters I made use of continually. I did not allow the waters to overflow, but the fullness of the floods I caused to flow on, restraining them with a brick embankment. Thus I completely made strong the defenses of Babylon. May it stand forever.” An old man by the name of Guyot lived and died in the town of Marseilles; he amassed a large fortune by the most laborious industry and the severest habits of abstinence and privation. The populace pursued him, whenever he appeared, with hooting and execrations. In his will were found the following words: “Having observed, from my infancy, that the poor of Marseilles are ill supplied with water, which can only be purchased at a great price, I have cheerfully labored the whole of my life to procure for them this great blessing; and I direct that the whole of my property shall be laid out in building an aqueduct for their use.”—Selected. THE GRAPPLE WITH BAD BOOKS.
EVERYBODY is agreed that there are few greater evils, so far as the rising generation is concerned, than the tendency to read bad books. And by “bad books” we mean, not merely books that are positively corrupt, but books that are mentally and spiritually debilitating—books, for example, that present an unreal view of life, and lead to an idle expectancy of great opportunities, instead of a manly performance of daily duties. What shall be done to save our children from these bad books? We answer:— 1. We must realize the vast importance of doing something—the magnitude of the evil we are called to encounter—the severity of the death-grapple in which we are involved. 2. We must resort to the freezing-out process. It is not enough to take bad books away from our children. We may take them away; but we cannot keep them away, unless we fill their place with something better. The youthful mind is active. It demands food. Our children will read; and if we do not supply them with reading, somebody else will. The divinely appointed antidote for bad reading is good reading. 3. We must exercise a sanctified common sense in this matter. We must realize that a fairly good book that will be read is better than the very best book that won’t be read. It should be our aim gradually to educate our children to a taste for the very purest and noblest type of literature. The Bible, doubtless, is the best of books. But if a boy will not read the Bible, give him something harmless and nutritious that he will read. Do not let it be understood that Satan has a monopoly of all the books that are naturally attractive to the childish mind. 4. Parents must exercise a careful supervision over their children’s reading. No book or paper should be read by any child without the parent’s approval. That approval should not be lightly withheld; but it should be sought in every instance, and withheld upon reasonable occasion. Meanwhile, the parent, while forbidding the perusal of a bad book, must be prepared to recommend a good book in its place. There are hosts of such books, in the varied departments of history, biography, travel and adventure, and popular science—books of intensest interest, but books that are something better than merely harmless. The judicious parent will spare no pains to find out what those books are; and (do you really feel that bad books are a terrible evil, Christian parent?) spend money freely to procure them for his children. 5. Pastors, superintendents, and religious editors, must be on the watch for suitable books for home reading; must clearly and emphatically recommend them; must freely lend them, when they own them; must devise means for getting not merely religious books, but thoroughly good books that make no pretense to being religious, into the hands of the people. There is a grave duty—a magnificent field of usefulness—a terrible responsibility here.—The Baptist Teacher. “If you wish to train up your child in the way he should go, just skirmish ahead on that line yourself,” said wise Josh Billings, and if he was not addressing fathers or thinking of boys, he ought to have been. The writer was present once at a social religious meeting, when a very large man with a very large nose, and no doubt a very large heart, also, arose and used his space of time to tell what a good mother he had, and how her influence had guided him, and finished with an exhortation to all mothers to make good men of their boys. The divines followed in a similar strain, and ended with the same exhortation, and all the brethren settled themselves more comfortably into their seats, and all the sisters bowed their heads with meek faces, as if sweetly taking up the heavy burden thus flatteringly laid upon their frail shoulders. No, not all; for one sat bolt upright, too indignant for speech, to see those great broad-shouldered men thus calmly shirking the greatest responsibility God ever called them to bear. Because some mothers, blessed with mighty faith and powerful will, have borne their sons triumphantly over the quicksands of youthful temptations, and planted their feet firmly on the pleasant upland of righteous manhood, shall it be demanded of every frail woman to whom God has given a son, that she do the same? No; with equal justice it might be demanded of every woman that she write books like Mrs. Stowe, entrance large audiences like Miss Willard and Anna Dickinson, or be a brilliant newspaper correspondent like Mary Clemmer. What weight has a mother's word when weighed against a father's example? The mother says, “My son, do not smoke; it is bad for your health, bad for the purse, bad for the morals, and the pleasure it affords is trifling compared to the evil it works.” “What does mother know about smoking?” reasons the boy; “she never smokes; father smokes, and I am going to, too.” “Don't spend your evenings about the bar-room and village store,” pleads the troubled mother; “the conversation there is not such as I wish you to listen to.” “What does mother know about bar-room talk?” questions the boy; “she is at home rocking the baby, or darning stockings; father is there, and I'm going.” One out-spoken, ten-year-old boy said, “I like my mother well enough; but I think father is a great deal smarter;” and he expressed the feeling of the average boy when he enters his teens. Now, which parent is likely to have most influence in forming the character of that son? “I'll take what father takes,” said the boy at the hotel dinner-table; and boys are taking what their fathers take all the world over.6 A father and son were clambering up the rough, steep sides of a mountain, when the father paused to decide which of many paths to take; the boy said, “Be sure to choose a good path, father, for I am coming right behind you.” Fathers, upon the hillside of life, be sure you choose a “good path,” for your sons are just behind, and almost certain to follow in your footsteps. If the bewitching voice of pleasure entices you into by-paths of self-indulgence and sin, remember that where you trip he will stumble, and the same foul mire that soils your raiment, will engulf him. But if you choose to walk the pleasant highways of temperance, virtue, and Christian manliness, he will keep even step with you, and at last dwell in peace at your side. “The just man walketh in his integrity; his children are blessed after him.” THE SABBATH.
By H. Woodruff
A few words said to have been written by Pulsford have suggested the following thoughts in regard to the Sabbath:— When traveling, we often stop for rest and refreshment. These stoppings are not the end of our journey, but each one brings us nearer. Such are our Sabbath days. A haven is not home, but a place of rest and quiet, where rough waves and stormy winds cease to trouble. Such are our Sabbath days. A bud is not a flower, but it is the promise of one that may, by its fragrance and beauty, comfort and cheer us. Such are our Sabbath days. An acorn is not a tree, but when we see it, the mind is carried back to the tree whence it came, and also pointed forward to the one it may produce. Such is the Sabbath day. As a memorial, it carries the mind back to the great work of creation, the Creator's rest, and the blessing of the seventh day in which he rested. As a type, it points us forward to the eternal rest which all may enjoy who keep the commandments of God and the faith of Jesus, and are thus permitted to enter in through the gates into the city. WHAT ARE “CHRISTIAN NATIONS”?
“Anything to make money,” seems to be the motto of the nations. Christian countries have no hesitation in doing things that must, if continued, inevitably utterly wipe out of existence the aboriginal inhabitants of the islands of the sea, if they can only make a little money thereby. “Take,” says the Independent, “the case of Madagascar, where rum merchants, aided by the English and American governments, are trying to undo the work of our missionaries. Both the English and American governments levy a tax of some two dollars a gallon on distilled liquors; but the English government forced on Madagascar a treaty which made that people receive rum at an import duty of only 33 per cent, which was, in 1867, reduced to 10 per cent or about two cents a gallon. There are imported annually from Mauritius over 400,000 gallons of rum, which sells at about eighteen cents a gallon, and which, with native liquors, made from stills imported from Mauritius, is inflicting an injury which the missionaries find it hard to resist. A correspondent of a Mauritius paper, the Commercial Gazette, says that “the whole population have become inveterate drunkards, women and children as well as men;” “that the women are becoming sterile throughout the country;” “and that, if something is not done to stop this unlimited consumption of spirits, the bulk of the race will have disappeared from the face of the earth before the beginning of the next century, and those who remain will have just cause to curse the day upon which the white man invaded their country, under the pretext of showing them the way to Heaven.” In a little while we shall be hearing that “civilization” has destroyed the Hova race. It is the civilization of rum and gunpowder, not of Christianity. In the month of August, 1879, Messrs. Dunville & Co., distillers, of Belfast, shipped about a thousand cases of whisky, via Larne and Liverpool, to Cyprus. This island has but just escaped from Mohammedan misrule, impoverished and almost depopulated; and now Irish whisky, sent out by “Christian distillers,” comes to the front, under the British flag, to complete the desolation. Yet with these facts in view,—with India, where English example has made a thousand drunkards while it has made one Christian; with China, where more than a thousand natives die each day the most horrible of deaths, murdered by British opium, forced on them at the cannon’s mouth; with the South Sea Island races rotting out from immoral diseases which the sailors of Christendom have left behind them (the only exceptions being islands that have no harbors where ships can lie); with the liquor traffic driving the plowshare of destruction not only through all Christendom, but through the virgin soil just opened in Asia and Africa for the reception of the good seed of the kingdom;—with all these horrible exhibitions of Satanic power and craft, backed up by the force of evil habit, and the covetous greed of gain which rules the so-called Christian world,—with all these facts before them, dainty divines, dealing in a gospel of lavender and rose-water, draw glowing pictures of a good time coming, and tell us that the world’s conversion is just at hand. Do such men know much about the world, or much about conversion? Or are they saying peace and safety when sudden destruction cometh upon them?—The Christian. TRUSTING AND WAITING.
By M. T. D. C.
“Trust His sure promise, and learn to wait.” LIKE the sweet refrain of an angel’s song
These words, through my night-dream, flowed along;
And their holy meaning and music fell
Like cooling drops from the life-giving well,
On my sorrowing heart and throbbing brain,
And my lips repeating them over again;
A swift answer to prayer,
And reprieve from my care,
Seemed the restful words floating down through the air;
And the Spirit whispered, “My peace I create
In souls that receive me and trust and wait.” “’Tis the night of Time, and the hour is late,”
(I musing said as I helplessly lay
On my couch till the glimmering dawn of day);
And “the foe comes in” like a swelling flood,
To engulf the guilty and harass the good;—
But the Spirit the “standard” of Truth has given
To watchers, who long for the Day-star of Heaven;
On the tide-wave of sin
Unbelief surges in,—
“Contend for the faith,” and the victory win;
“Be vigilant—steadfast,” whatever the strait,—
“Hold fast” to the promise, “pray always,” and wait. “Those who sow in tears,” with zeal emulate:
Let the weak and the weary be comforted
By words of true wisdom in season said;
Admonish the straying, entreat, and win
Them back from the smooth quicksands of sin;
“Fight the good fight”—“overcome” each day,
Girt with the “whole armor of God” alway;
“They shall shine as the sun,”
When their labor is done,
Who souls for the Master have sought and won.
His precepts, well suited to every estate,
Light the path to the promise,—so work and wait. What even though love is returned by hate?
Be gentle, long-suffering, meek, saith the Word;
Enough for the servant to be as his Lord;
Examine thyself; thy actions and heart
Compare with Heaven’s rule, the infallible chart;
And pray that the gold may be purified,
Let me be “chastened, made white, and tried.”
The good Master must see
His own image in thee;
’Till this he discerns, “fiery trials” must be;—
Though red with his wrath seems the furnace-plate,
’Tis the glow of his love,—“be patient,” and wait. Refuse not thy task, whether small or great;
In the school of Christ, unmeaning and vain
Some lessons may seem, but all will be plain,
And the fruit of each study be rich and new,
In the higher class and grand review;
So with eye on the mark, haste on in the race,
Ever cheered by the smile of the Teacher’s face.
In his wisdom confide,
In his counsels abide;
To such his assistance is never denied.
The rewards he has proffered, the wise stimulate;
There’s a prize for all learners who work and wait. “What has he promised, my hope to elate?”
“Lo, I am with you, even unto the end,”
In labors and conflicts, to aid and defend;
“My grace is sufficient,” “I’ll never forsake,”
“Nor with my chosen my covenant break;”
“To Zion with joy, my ransomed shall come;”
“With songs and with gladness I’ll gather them home.”
Made a glorious bride,
Called to reign at my side,
“Transformed,” “crowned with glory,” “with peace satisfied,”
“They shall walk in white” through the palace-gate,
“They shall go no more out,” nor in tears watch and wait. —M. T. D. C., in Messiah’s Herald. I REMEMBER so well the wedding; a fair, girlish bride with winsome manners, well educated, reared in the best society, and a member of the church; the husband somewhat older, dignified and manly in bearing, a college graduate, but with no Christian principle. Some doubted the wisdom of marrying a man who was not rooted and grounded in the faith, but they said, He is fond of her, and who knows but she may win him to a different life? They were glad when the young man came with her to the old church Sunday after Sunday, and they put aside their prejudice about being unequally yoked together with unbelievers. By-and-by the seat at church was vacant. Were the young people ill? When visited, it was found that Mr. Harvey thought he should like a church broader in doctrine than ours, and thither both had gone. Children came to the home. They were taught to pray and go to Sunday-school, but finally, as Sunday was the only day the father had to visit with his family, and take a drive, it was deemed wise to take the children out of school. It was confining enough to be in the day-school for a week, and they need the bracing air. After a time Mr. Harvey said the family attended services so little that it hardly seemed worth while to pay for a seat in a fashionable church, so the pew was given up. Very few in their circle were Christians, so their social power was not greatly lessened. Fifteen years have come and gone. I was in the home a short time ago, a beautiful home, that wealth, and travel, and taste have made very attractive, but the Christianity seems to have departed. No one of the family ever goes to church. Some of the children are openly infidel. A blessing, or prayer, or hymn is never heard. The lines have gathered in the face that was girlish and sunny fifteen years ago; gathered somehow in such a way that the sweet, indescribable look that the gospel of Christ gives has faded out. There are faces that never become old, eyes that never grow dim, hearts that never get weary, because they have drunk at the spring of eternal life. Whose fault was it that this home was not a Christian home? Should the wife have gone contrary to the will of her husband and brought discord into the family? Did Mr. Harvey love his wife better for yielding to him in matters of conscience? Assuredly not. Men believe in, and admire, Christian womanhood. I shall never forget what a prominent lawyer in this city, now dead, said to me once, speaking of a lady whom he loved in youth: “I would have married her gladly, but I wanted a Christian woman for a wife!” and he not a Christian man himself. Love gives dominion, and wise is she who holds and uses it prayerfully. If woman be weaker than man physically, she holds a power the greatness of which she usually but half comprehends. There are compensations in life which equalize great differences. I remember another young couple married about the same time. The bride was a graduate of a Western college, as gentle and refined as the one above mentioned. She wedded the man of her choice, agreeable, interesting, fine-looking, but unchristian. She hoped, as thousands more have hoped, to see him change his course in life. The years went by, but no change came. She was always in her place in church, always at the prayer-meeting. Sometimes she came miles in storm and darkness, alone. She always knelt by the bedside and prayed in his presence, and he could not help knowing that she prayed for him. She would never consent to have wine upon her table, though her husband used it elsewhere. There were no cards, though he played at other places. Somehow he respected consistent living, and made no opposition to her wishes. Five or six years ago, in one of those mysterious ways in which the Holy Spirit works, the heart of the profane, irreligious husband was touched, broken in contrition, and saved. Then the heroic wife was the strong tower on which, next to God, he leaned. Her life had corresponded with her prayers, and her counsel was sure. I have known them intimately for years. A more earnest, active Christian, one who speaks for Christ, and judiciously too, in horse cars or railroad trains, from the platform, anywhere, to redeem the years he has lost, I think I have never met. The wife stood by her principles and saw her husband saved. It is a mistake to suppose that a gentle woman can have no strength, or a strong woman no gentleness. The world needs both combined in its best and truest womanhood. The doing of one's duty has no sex limitation.—Congregationalist. A lady gave us a rule, not long since, by which she had succeeded in interesting her lively, fun-loving boys, so they preferred to remain at home evenings instead of seeking amusement elsewhere. Other mothers, who are troubled by the frequent requests of their children to go on the street or to the store, as soon as it is dark, may like to hear it repeated. She said: “I remember that children are children, and must have amusements. I fear that the abhorrence with which some good parents regard any play for children, is the reason why their children go away from home for pleasure. Husband and I used to read history, and at the end of each chapter ask some questions, requiring the answer to be looked up if not given correctly. “We follow a similar plan with the children; sometimes we play one game, and sometimes another, always planning with books, stories, plays, or treats of some kind to make the evenings at home more attractive than they can be made abroad. I should dislike to think any one could make my children happier than I can, so I always try to be at leisure in the evening, and to arrange something entertaining. “When there is a good concert, lecture, or entertainment, we all go together and enjoy it; for whatever is worth the price of admission for us older people, is equally valuable to the children, and we let them see that we spare no expense when it is really for their advantage to be out an evening. “But the greater number of our evenings are spent quietly at home. Sometimes it requires an effort to sit leisurely talking and playing with them when my work-basket is filled with unfinished work, and books and papers lie unread on the table; but as the years go by and I see my boys and girls growing into home-loving, modest young men and maidens, I am glad that I have made it my rule to give the best of myself to my family.”—Selected.