Earlier text: THE NEW BIRTHhundreds of thousands—all the monks and clergy—by men and women strangers to God’s grace, salutary, for they brought all confusion into family relations. And “spiritual affinities” worked then as now. It is blind infatuation and desperation to say that the minds of the people were not as by an epidemic turned to a belief in miracles as wrought by dead heroes, whose bones were “resplendent with miracles and terrific prodigies” (Gregory), and that this was not demonolatry pure and simple. And finally no one can affect not to recognize in this a wonderful and complete fulfillment of the Spirit’s express declaration in the monkish portrait given in 1 Tim. 4: 1-3, that “some should apostatize from the faith.” AN ILLOGICAL "INDUCTION."
By W. N. Glenn
REV. E. HANDEL JONES, of Williamstown, province of Victoria, Australia, sets forth the following proposition with the confident air of one who deems his position impregnable:— I take my text, the citadel of Adventism, "I came not to destroy the law or the prophets, I came not to destroy but to fulfill," and, viewed in the light of the epistles to the Romans, Galatians, Colossians, and Hebrews—from their general spirit and drift I draw the following induction:— "That the Old Testament dispensation is superseded by the Lord Jesus Christ." It follows, therefore:— 1. That the moral law, being a part of the Old Testament dispensation, is therefore fulfilled by Christ. 2. That the Jewish Sabbath being part of the moral law is consequently fulfilled by Christ. 3. That the apostles so interpreted Christ's relation to the Old Testament in general, and the moral law in particular, that they themselves practically effected the transfer from the seventh to the first day of the week. 4. That it is the will of Christ that the Jewish Sabbath as such be no longer binding; therefore, 5. Consequently we conclude that the first day of the week is divinely authorized in lieu of the Jewish Sabbath. This "induction" is illogical because it concludes that Christ did just what he declared that he came not to do. It is illogical because it concludes that that which is "fulfilled" is necessarily superseded and practically done away. According to the position here taken, Christ destroyed the law by fulfilling it, after declaring positively that his purpose was "not to destroy the law or the prophets." It also subpoenas "the epistles to the Romans, Galatians, Colossians, and Hebrews" as witnesses, and claims to prove by them that Christ did that which he came not to do. From these epistles he also draws the conclusion that "the Old Testament dispensation is superseded by Christ." But as the former conclusion necessitates the assumption that Christ contradicted himself, we are at least suspicious of subsequent deductions from the same premise. As to Christ superseding the Old Testament dispensation, the thought is not sustained by the facts. Christ preached the Old Testament during his ministry. The Old Testament constituted the Scriptures in the time of Christ, and for some time afterward. After his resurrection he opened the understanding of his disciples, "that they might understand the Scriptures." Luke 24:45. The disciples also preached Christ from the Old Testament, having no other Scriptures. See Acts 2:16-21, 30, 31; 8:26-35. The epistles cited by Mr. Jones as witnesses to his "induction" also testify to this fact. The apostle Paul tells us that "all Scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness; that the man of God may be perfect, thoroughly furnished617 unto all good works." 2 Tim. 3:16, 17. The same apostle says, "Whatsoever things were written aforetime were written for our learning, that we through patience and comfort of the Scriptures might have hope." Rom. 15:4. See also 1 Cor. 9:9, 10. He also charged Timothy, "by the coming of the Lord," to "preach the word." The Old Testament is the word of the Lord, indicted by the "Spirit of Christ," which was in the writers. See 1 Peter 1:10-12. From these scriptures, and many others, it is clear that the dispensation of the Old Testament has not been superseded. "The word of the Lord endureth forever." The fulfilling of a law always means the carrying out of its provisions, not the destruction or annulment of the law. Christ did fulfill the law in every particular; but, so far from superseding it, the record says he "magnified" it, and "made it honorable." That was just what the world had not been doing. The world had been disregarding the law of God. That was what constituted it a sinful world, for "sin is the transgression of the law" (1 John 3:4). "Where no law is, there is no transgression" (Rom. 4:15). Jesus Christ was the first man who had perfectly fulfilled, or obeyed, the law. Shall we conclude that the law was to continue until one man could be found to fully obey, and then be set aside? That is the logic of the "induction" quoted in this article. That this was not the design of the Lord, we have proof in the eighth chapter of Romans. The law points out duty, but of itself it cannot help sinful men (men of "carnal mind," verse 7) to be obedient. Therefore "what the law could not do, in that it was weak through the flesh [which is sinful], God sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh, and for sin, condemned sin in the flesh; that the righteousness of the law might be fulfilled in us, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit." Mr. Jones' conclusions evidently overreach his design, for they logically indicate that the work of the gospel minister is superfluous. As "sin is the transgression of the law," and "sin is not imputed where there is no law," what is the logical conclusion if the law be annulled? Are we not shut up to the conclusion that there is no sin? And if there be no sin, what need of pardon? what need of a Redeemer? what need of a preacher? To fulfill a law of the State is always understood to be the fulfilling of its requirements. No man supposes, when he pays his taxes in fulfillment of the demands of the law, that the law is thereby superseded. If he should so suppose, he would find himself much mistaken when the time came round for payment again. Nor is it deemed necessary in such case that the law be reënacted from year to year. If the logic of the "induction" herein before quoted be correct, then the fulfillment of a law of the British Government (to which the Australian colonies are subject), would mean its repeal, hence the necessity of reënactment after every fulfillment. But the provinces of that country do not so reason. For instance, they are still enforcing an old and tyrannical Sunday law, declared and vigorously enforced in the reign of Charles II., and condemning men to the stocks for working on Sunday. And the men who contend that the law of God was annulled by its fulfillment, do not claim that this old British Sunday law is not legitimately in force. From the utterly illogical reasoning of Mr. Jones it is clear that he has no ground whatever for his assumption that the apostles "practically effected the transfer [of the Sabbath] from the seventh to the first day of the week." Inasmuch as the Scriptures are silent upon the subject of such a transfer, we are certainly warranted in demanding better evidence than is presented in this argument of the Australian preacher. As to his proposition that "it is the will of Christ that the Jewish Sabbath as such be no longer binding," we have only to say that the weekly Sabbath never was "a Jewish Sabbath as such." It was promulgated in Eden, and always was, and is, the Sabbath of the Lord, designated by himself as "my holy day," "the holy of the Lord." Isa. 58:13. "The Sabbath was made for man," not merely for the Jews, and "the Son of Man [not the Jews] is Lord also of the Sabbath." Mark 2:27, 28. This statement was made when the first-day sabbath tradition had not been heard of. Whether, upon such illogical assumptions as are set forth by Mr. Jones, it is wisdom to "conclude that the first day of the week is divinely authorized," we leave the reader to judge for himself. If, however, it come to us "in lieu of the Jewish Sabbath"—an institution entirely of the imagination, nowhere mentioned in the word of God—then the assumed divine authorization of the first-day sabbath must itself be imaginary. MRS. DYER’S TROUBLE.
By Rose Terry Cooke
“WELL, Dr. Strong, I don’t think—at least, I don’t know, and that is as bad—I sent for you because”— Here the words choked her. She had to stop; her eyes ran over on her pale cheeks, and she clasped her thin hands together in a convulsive effort of self-control. Dr. Strong, a white-haired old man, with the gentlest face and kindest manner possible, looked distressed; he could not say anything, for he had no clue to these sobs and tears. Mrs. Dyer had been a member of his church when he lived at Blanford; he remembered her well—a bright, delicate young girl, the only daughter of a well-to-do farmer. She was fairly well educated, had made a profession of religion in early youth, had married at twenty a young lawyer already in good practice, for he was ten years older than she, and had besides a little inherited property. Dr. Strong had heard of her from time to time, and sometimes met her when she came home on a visit. He knew that she was temporarily prosperous, and that she had three children; and at last he himself was called to a church in the city where she lived, and learned then for the first time that she was recently widowed. She had written a note to him, asking that he would come to see her; and, in answer to her request, he was with her now. Poor little thing! She was a pathetic spectacle to her old pastor as she sat there struggling with her tears, thin, pallid, and sad, with a comfortless sorrow, as he could plainly see, for neither hope nor submission lent a gleam to her eye or calmed her forlorn countenance. This was not a case of ordinary consolation he felt at once; but, before she could control herself, in rushed a rosy boy of ten.618 “Mother,” he shouted, “can I go over to Denham with Hal Jones?” Mrs. Dyer held out a hand and drew him to her side. She stopped her tears, and was composed at once. “Come here, Harry,” she said, in very loving tones. “I want you to shake hands with this gentleman; he used to be my minister when I lived at Blandford.” Harry was evidently well trained; he obeyed at once, and stood at Dr. Strong’s knee a moment to answer some kindly questions, then reverted to his errand. “Is no one else going?” asked his mother. “No, ma’am; we want to go fishing out in the mill pond for pun’kin seeds.” “No, Harry, I can’t let you go.” “Surely, dear,” she said with a smile. Harry’s face flushed, his eyes glistened, and his small fists closed tightly. There was a struggle in his boyish heart, very evident to the doctor; but he said nothing, and, bowing to the minister, left the room much more quietly than he had entered it. The interruption had helped Mrs. Dyer to recover her own self-control. She could speak now quite calmly. “I sent for you, Dr. Strong,” she said, “because I am in great need of help. You know I have been a church member many years, but lately I have begun to think I am not a Christian at all.” “Have you spoken to your own pastor?” asked the doctor, with professional instinct. “No, I cannot. Mr. King is called a very fine preacher, but his sermons don’t touch or help me; they never have. When Allen died, he came here and talked to me, but he didn’t seem sure of anything; he is always telling us that doubt is a very necessary thing to growth in spirit; that we must try to find the pillars whereon the house standeth, before we can be sure there is a house.” “He did not really remember the context in that text, I fear. Sampson was blind, my dear, and when the Philistines showed him where to grope for those pillars, he pulled them down and killed those in the heathen temple—and himself too.” Mrs. Dyer smiled a little; she too had not remembered where the phrase came from. “But I can find no help in all this, Dr. Strong. I want to be sure of something, to have a place of rest to my soul. ‘Maybe’ is no gospel to me.” “My dear, cannot you pray?” “Pray! oh, what use is prayer? When Allen lay speechless with fever, and the doctor told me he was dangerously ill, do you think I did not pray? I groveled before God to save him; I prayed till my heart was dry and my brain weary. What was the good of it? I had no answer. No, I shall never pray again. I don’t believe in it. It is no use. I do not even read the Bible.” “Now answer a few questions for me.” Just at this point there was another interruption; two younger children, both girls, came eagerly running into the room; one threw herself into her mother’s lap; the other leaned against her knee; they were flushed with exercise, and held in their hands long trails of graceful vine, with bunches of transparent scarlet berries hanging among the green leaves. “Look, mamma, what bu’ful berries.” “Pretty berries; nice? Ally eat berries, mamma?” Mrs. Dyer’s face stiffened with terror; if she could be paler, one might have said she grew colorless; quickly, without waiting to make her children speak to the guest, she gathered vines and berries out of the little hands and put them away in the nearest place that was high overhead, the upper shelf of a high bookcase. The children whimpered. “O mamma, don’t take my berries!” “Pitty berries. Ally’s berries,” chimed in the younger, with a tone of possession and a sense of injustice in the baby voice. “Dears, you cannot have them. Go to your nurse at once and get your bread and milk.” “Do you thing they have eaten any?” asked Dr. Strong anxiously. “Oh, no! I have taught them thoroughly never to taste anything without my leave. I used to put bitter water out of a quassia cup on any fruit they might be tempted to take; it was harmless, but it taught them that what I had forbidden them was not good to eat, and so they learned to ask for what they wanted.” The children turned away with tears in their eyes, and slowly went out of the door. Ally looking over her shoulder at the “pitty berries” placed out of her reach. “My dear young friend,” asked Dr. Strong solemnly, “do you love your children?” “Love them?” she answered, the warm flush of indignation crimsoning her expressive face. “Why, they are all I have got to love, my very life. While Allen lived I had him to care for, to be with, to wait on. Now they are all.” “Why, then, did you not answer Harry when he asked if he might go to Dedham?” “I did answer him, Dr. Strong. Did not you hear me tell him he must not go?” “Yet you said God did not answer your prayers for your husband’s life because he denied it. Is not ‘no’ as much of an answer as ‘yes’?” Her face changed, but she made no reply. “You admit still, in spite of your doubts, that there is a God?” “Yes; oh, yes; I cannot disbelieve that; it would be a return to chaos!” “You will admit, too, perhaps, the old geometric axiom that the whole is greater than its part?” She looked at him with surprise and inquiry in her eyes. “Well, then, if God made this world, and made you, is it not probable that he knows more about your needs than you do?” “I suppose ‘so,’” she said half reluctantly. “And if he knew enough to create this world and all the myriad worlds we see above and around us, is it not at least possible that you may not be able to understand always what he means in what he does?” She colored again, and silently bowed her head. “Why did you refuse to let your boy go to Dedham? He wanted to go so much.” “Oh, it is not safe for him to go on the water with only another boy; the pond is deep and the boys are so careless! I do want him to be a manly, courageous boy, but I will not let him go into possible danger for no other reason than his own pleasure.” “Why not, then, have explained all this to him?” “Well, I have tried to train my children to trust me, to feel that I know best what is good for them. I have thought that to give them a reason for all I did was not so good for them as to learn to trust me. I think they ought to feel that I am their natural head and ruler now Allen has gone. He had the same feeling. He used to say, ‘We’re king and queen in our home, and the children hereditary subjects.’ I want to carry out his ideas.” “Why not let them guide themselves, and not have to ask you for everything they want?” “Oh, I love to have them ask, as far as that goes, even if I believed in encouraging anarchy in my little kingdom. I love to give them whatever I can give, and to have them come to me with all their wants and wishes.” “And yet you have to deny them?” “Yes, I must; but how it hurts me! I believe I could have cried with the babies this morning when I took away those exquisite, tempting berries; but, Dr. Strong, they were berries of the deadly nightshade—certain death had they eaten them.” The doctor leaned back in his chair and put the finger tips of his wrinkled old hands together in the argumentative way not uncommon to elderly clergymen. He did not look at Mrs. Dyer, but straight at the ceiling, as he said in a dry, quiet tone:— “How much better you are than God!” Mrs. Dyer looked, and felt, shocked. “Dr. Strong!” she exclaimed. “My dear, I take you at your own showing. You find fault with God because he denies your request; but you denied Harry’s. You think he had no reason to refuse what you asked; but you gave no reason to Harry. You did not tell your little girls that those berries were poisonous. You knew they would not understand what that meant, to be sure; but then you wish them to trust in your love and wisdom without reasons; yet you refuse to trust God, who is immeasurably wiser than you and imaginably more good than you are, in comparison, to your children. You have ceased to pray because you were denied the answer that you wanted. You said, ‘My will be done,’ and, because it was not done, you refused to speak to Him who made you. What if Harry should come in to-night and not speak to you again for months and years, because he could not go to Dedham? Would it seem to you reasonable, or the petty sulks of a spoiled child? Is not all this want of faith in you an assumption that God is not as good as you are to your children?” Mrs. Dyer hid her face in her hands while the doctor went on. “I have for many years found much comfort and strength in observing how the good Lord hath made of human life an ever-present exposition of and witness to his ways. I think it is this in part which the text refers to that says, ‘If any man will do His will, he shall know of the doctrine.’ Try, my dear, to know God as your Father; treat your children as your own sense and conscience teach you; these are the voice of God in your soul; then act toward him as you would have your children act toward you. You will find out more religion in that way than you think. But do not try to find a poor human reason for the divine ways. Would you have a God whom you could measure? ‘Canst thou by searching find out God? canst thou find out the Almighty unto perfection? It is as high as heaven; what canst thou do? deeper than hell; what canst thou know?’ Tell me honestly, could you trust in a God whom you could understand? Would one be a help or defense to you who was less than omniscient or omnipresent?” “No,” said Mrs. Dyer in a low voice, “but I never thought of that.” “And for the Bible, why not read that for the stores of help and comfort instead of trying to pick out its faults? Of all books that Bible has most of what we call common sense in it, besides its beautiful gospel record. A life guarded by its precepts is more than merely pious, it is practical and useful. ‘Godliness is profitable unto all things, having promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come.’ Try, my child, to go back to your Father; talk with him in prayer, accept his will as it comes to you daily, and remember that he as well as you can say ‘no’ or ‘yes’ as he sees fit; either is an answer. If you love God as your children love you, would you doubt or turn away from him?” Mrs. Dyer’s eyes were streaming with tears now. “I will try,” she said; and years after she thanked Dr. Strong for helping her to escape her trouble. She is now an earnest Christian woman, a mother whom her children rise up and bless; but she has for a long time ceased to attend Mr. King’s church.—The Independent. SIN always causes loss. It is never profitable. It is the highwayman that stands beside the path and robs you of whatever of value you may possess. It is the sly thief that intercepts that which was intended for you, so that you do not receive it. It is both a thief and a robber. Sin well understands this art. It does not take the whole at first, but, like the dishonest clerk, it begins by taking a little here and a little there, and so very often carries on its dishonest dealing a long time before it is detected. The Christian is not led to commit some great sin first of all; the enemy is too crafty for that. It is by littles that the soul is led astray. A little sin is presented at first. But that forms the beginning. It is the starting of the train, on the down grade, to gather speed and momentum as it goes on. That sin has to some extent robbed the soul of the conscious help and joy of God. It has benumbed the spiritual sensibilities; it has perverted the judgment and the sense of right. Hence the soul is not in the condition to discriminate between right and wrong that it was before. Because of this, the second sin becomes easier than the first, and the third easier than the second. And the further you proceed, the easier sin becomes, because of this loss of sensibility and the power of discrimination. And this means that the soul has been gradually growing unsusceptible to the voice and the touch of God. This explains the indifference and worldliness on the part of members of churches, and their forgetfulness of their covenant obligations. Put it down as a fact always to be remembered, sin is a robber. And that which is a robber in time becomes the source of ruin in eternity. Let us turn away from sin, knowing that a holy, godly life is always pleasing unto God.—Messiah’s Herald. SUMMER IN THE CEMETERY.
By Nettie J. Hunt
SHE softly folds her glowing robes upon them,
Those dear, bare mounds that hold the hearts we miss,
And brightens them with violets blue, and wakens
The tender fern with many a lover’s kiss. She bids the robin and the bluebird loiter,
And trill their sweetest in the cypress trees.
They know no death tale, so their glorious piping
Fills with its melody the scented breeze. And then she presses loving lips upon them,
Those mounds so bright with blue and gold and green.
“O dust that lies beneath this matchless splendor,
Knowest thou never fairer robes were seen? “Into thy darkened eyes does not the sunrise
Gleam in its rose-hued marvel ever new?
Into thy sleeping ears do not the bird songs
Steal with their tales of love forever true?” But to her loving passion comes no answer;
So, with a flood of tender, gushing tears,
Leaves she white lilies, golden hearted, fragrant,
Whispers, “Sleep on till God’s great spring appears.” Speech Seasoned with Salt
"LET your speech be alway with grace, seasoned with salt." Col. 4:6. A Sketch of Indian Native Christian Life.
It is delightful to trace the beginnings of the new life in any soul; but some there are who awaken our special interest and admiration, and such, it seems to me, is the one whose story is briefly given below. Nursoo was, for many years, engaged in daring deeds of theft and robbery. Again and again was he thrown into prison for his lawless acts. One day, while visiting a village near his own, he met Mr. H., a missionary, who was going about preaching in that district. The latter spoke a few words to him. Nursoo went his way, and the one who had spoken to him saw him no more for several years; but the Spirit of the Lord followed him. The question so kindly put, "Are you a Christian, Nursoo?" with the added words, "You ought to be," sank into his heart; nor did his struggle cease till he had found pardon in Christ. He was baptized a little later, some eleven or twelve years ago, and received into the Watwad church, sixty miles and more to the northeast of Sholapur. And now, when we visit that region, no one greets us more cordially than this same good man. His heart seems to be overflowing with gratitude for having been told of Jesus, the Saviour. Often, on hearing of our arrival, this dear man hastens to our tent with eggs and fowls, rice and flour, too, perhaps. "But, Nursoo, we do not care for your good things," he is told over and over again; "we come to bring you help—to tell you more of the better life." And the reply is ever the same, "If the Lord gives me these things, they are yours." At one time, after Mr. H. had been refusing some favor from him, Nursoo remarked, "I would be willing to take out a piece of my flesh and give it to you if necessary." One day, after the birth of his little son, when we were in tents near his village, Nursoo's heart was so full of gratitude that his gifts seemed to have no limit. It was hard for us to express our thanks. "Don't thank me," he said; "thank the Lord alone. He has prospered me, and I want to do for you who have come from such a distance, and have done so much for us." When told to lay by something for himself and family for a time of need, he replied, "The Lord has had compassion on me, a miserable sinner, and now I wish to do all I can for others, for the poor and needy, and especially for the widow and the fatherless." And this he has done, in various ways. At a special meeting of the Watwad Christians, a few years since, the widows being especially invited, a garment was given by Nursoo to each of the latter who were present, ten or eleven in number, thus causing joy and relief to their hearts. Indeed, his home seems to be a place where the Christians, being ever welcome, love to go. A humble, modest man he always seems, of the lowest caste, too, being a watchman, or night guard, of his little village, and receiving in return for his services various perquisites for his support from the farmers there; yet his tall, upright figure, his pleasant, bright eye, and his kind, homely face seem really attractive. One day the question was put to him by Mr. H., "Nursoo, what are you doing now for Christ?" No answer. Again the same question, and yet no reply. The third time, too, and the simple answer was, "Nothing." But the poor man was evidently stirred in his soul. He went home and thought it all over. "I cannot read," he said to himself; "I am an ignorant man; but I can pray, and I'll do it." So, night after night, Nursoo, before beginning his duties as watchman, goes off into a field, where he can be quite alone (for his house has but one room, where the whole family cook, eat, and sleep), and there, prostrating himself, he prays earnestly for a blessing on his own family, and that the Lord's kingdom might come in the hearts of his neighbors and friends. And the fruit has already appeared. Several of the families near him have come out and fearlessly acknowledged Christ as their Saviour, their conversion being traced to his direct influence. Indeed, several from the higher classes of the Hindus were for a time so much influenced by him that many of their relatives and friends consulted together what should be done. "Nursoo," they said, "if you go on influencing our young men in this way, and disregarding the gods we worship, you will have to leave here, and then, if you have no work, what will you do? Will you go to the government official?" "Will you go to your missionary?" "No," was the answer; "I will not trouble him or anyone. I will try some other means of living, but if I fail, I will just fold my hands meekly, and commit my life again to Him who gave it." The people seemed impressed by his reply, and, on thinking further of the matter, decided to have him remain in his work. And to-day he seems more highly respected in his village than ever before.—Selected. THE VALUE OF MISSIONARY SCHOOLS.
MISS FREDRICKSON, a Baptist missionary at Rangoon, Burmah, writes as follows to the home officials in regard to schools and their relation to the work of saving souls:— “I do heartily believe in schools, because I see nothing else that can take their place in bringing the young under continued Christian influence. . . . Of all the girls who have gone out from the school, forty-seven are now actively engaged in the work of the mission, mostly in school work; some are Bible women, others are wives of native pastors, and many have married and established Christian homes. The customs of the country are such that a young girl cannot go out as a Bible woman, because the heathen have no respect for them, and will say very unkind things about them. When they go out as teachers, they have large opportunities for Christian work among the heathen, which they could not gain in any other way. The school is the opening wedge. “The results of the school work are not to be measured always by figures and apparent results. We have lately had a striking illustration of that. A native of India who was in the British army, a Mohammedan, was baptized in Pegu, gave up his work, and came to Rangoon, and is working among the Mohammedans here. He is an earnest worker, and, humanly speaking, is doing a work no other can do, because he is finely educated, and knows all about their religion and books, and knows the Bible, too. He was seven years in a mission school, and left it apparently as he came into it, a heathen. But he never forgot the scripture which he learned there, and the Holy Spirit used it to lead to his conversion. “One of the girls from the school was at home during the vacation; her parents took her to the pagoda to worship. She refused, saying, ‘It is only brick and stone, and cannot hear or help me.’ She is not a Christian, but her faith in idols is destroyed. I am convinced that the school is an important means of evangelization, and without it our work would suffer all along the line. The government schools are not turning out the material of which we can make Christian workers, nor are they such as we would wish to educate our Christians in.” THE LIGHT OF CHRIST'S FACE.
By Joaquin Miller
BEHOLD how glorious! Behold
The light of Christ's face; and such light!
The Moslem, Buddhist, as of old,
Gropes helpless on in hopeless night.
But lo! where Christ comes, crowned with flame,
Ten thousand triumphs in Christ's name. Elijah's chariot of fire,
Chained lightnings harnessed to his car,
Jove's thunders bridled by a wire—
Call unto nations, "Here we are."
Lo! all the world one sea of light,
Save where the paynim walks in night. What more? What sermons like to these,
This light of Christ's face, power, speed,
In these full rounded centuries,
To prove the Christ the Christ indeed?
Yea, Christ is life, and Christ is light,
And antichrist is death and night. THERE are said to be over 30,000 Protestant Kaffir members in the Wesleyan missions in South Africa, and they are all professed abstainers from intoxicating liquors. The Wesleyan Missionary Notices gives an account of the experience of one who gave up the use of both the native beer and tobacco:— “He had gone home that night, thrown the beer away, and destroyed the pot; heaven came down into his soul, and it was very blessed (mandi kakulu); he assembled his family for prayer, and it was mandi kakulu; he went to his place of private prayer among the rocks, and it was mandi kakulu, God himself filling his soul with the joy of salvation. In the night he awoke; still mandi kakulu; but, turning to seek a live coal with which to light his pipe, the ubanmandi (blessedness) vanished, he knew not where or how; but there and then he had fought out the matter. His reason said, ‘I have surrendered beer; surely tobacco is no sin!’ His conscience answered, ‘You have killed the cow; now you must kill the calf.’ Still reason argued, but again and again conscience replied, ‘You have killed the cow; now you must kill the calf;’ and he could get no return of blessedness until his surrender was complete, and the last idol was put away; he had destroyed his pipe, and resolved that both beer and tobacco should henceforth be laid in absolute surrender on God’s altar.” Patient Suffering
By T. Jones
It requires more grace to suffer patiently than to serve laboriously.—T. Jones. A MISSIONARY of experience gives this suggestive hint, which is worthy of note:— "Let me say to those who may be looking forward to work in India, make sure before sailing that you can give a reason for the hope that is in you. That reason will be in demand when you work among Hindus. "Both the study of apostolic Christianity and religions of India will be of use in understanding better the nature of the problems which must be met on the mission field. Especially has the study of the early conflict of Christianity and paganism in the Roman Empire thrown light on the modern conflict in India. Both by the similarities and the differences of these two conflicts, are one's anticipations of immediate success sobered, while one's faith in the ultimate triumph grows more firm and abiding." CONSEQUENCES OF HOLDING ON TO RICHES.
By Ellen G. White
In his word the Lord has plainly revealed his will to those who have riches. But because his direct commands have been slighted, he mercifully presents their dangers before them through the Testimonies. He does not give new light, but calls their attention to the light that has already been revealed in his word. If those who profess to love the truth are holding on to their riches, and, failing to obey the word of God, do not seek opportunities to do good with that which he has intrusted to them, he will come closer, and will scatter their means. He will come near to them with judgments. He will in various ways scatter their idols. Many losses will be sustained. The souls of the selfish shall be unblest. But "the liberal soul shall be made fat." Those who honor God he will honor. The Lord made a covenant with Israel that, if they would obey his commandments, he would give them rain in due season, the land should yield her increase, and the trees of the field should yield their fruit. He promised that their threshing should reach unto the vintage, and the vintage unto the sowing time, and that they should eat their bread to the full, and dwell in their land safely. He would make their enemies to perish. He would not abhor them, but would walk with them, and would be their God, and they should be his people. But if they disregarded his requirements, he would deal with them entirely contrary to all this. His curse should rest upon them, in place of his blessing. He would break their pride of power, and would make the heavens over them as iron, and the earth as brass. "Your strength shall be spent in vain; for your land shall not yield her increase, neither shall the trees of the land yield their fruits. And if ye walk contrary unto me," "then will I also walk contrary unto you." Those who are selfishly withholding their means need not be surprised if God's hand scatters. That which should have been devoted to the advancement of the work and cause of God, but which has been withheld, may be intrusted to a reckless son, and he may squander it. A fine horse, the pride of a vain heart, may be found dead in the stable. Occasionally a cow may die. Losses of fruit or other crops may come. God can scatter the means he has lent to his stewards, if they refuse to use it to his glory. Some may have none of these losses to remind them of their remissness in duty, but their cases may be the more hopeless.—Testimony for the Church No. 20. FROM SOUTH AMERICA.
By Editor
The Union Record, of New York City, publishes a private letter from Brother R. B. Craig, dated Buenos Ayres, May 11, from which we take the following extracts:— Yes, the Revolution did interfere with the work in Brazil, or at least it seemed so to us. Yet we know that all things work together for good to them that love the Lord. It is in the past now, and Brother Stauffer is pushing the work there with increased help from some who have commenced to keep the Sabbath. I wish someone was here to take charge of the business matters, which are increasing all the time, and this would leave me free to give my time wholly to canvassing. I am now getting "Patriarchs and Prophets" in some of the best English families in Buenos Ayres; but I only get two or three days a week to canvass. The brethren are doing fairly well on the Spanish books, but it is still a problem to be solved how to get the books into the homes of many of the Catholic people. Brother Brooking is having some success in this direction, and our prayers constantly ascend that the Lord will direct in our efforts to reach them. Brother Nowlen is now at Sandy Point, Straits of Magellan. The prospects are not now so favorable there as on the islands, but he is pushing things, and we hope to see some respond to the light he leaves there. My wife is teaching school with a few English children, and we spend an hour or more each evening studying Spanish with two other families, one of which is Spanish, and while they teach us Spanish we teach them English. The climate here is good in many respects, yet there is much suffering from rheumatism, and from the very bad meat, which is eaten in large quantities by almost every family. We are very anxious to hear from the General Conference Council. We are expecting a reënforcement by some ministerial help. Certainly the people of this country should have the privilege of hearing the message publicly soon. Exchange is very bad here now, as it takes $3.90 in this currency to buy one dollar of United States money. But the currency is like many other things here—it is rotten beyond repair. If anyone wants to see what Catholicism will do for a country, just let him see things in these South American countries. Still it is better now than a few years past, when Romanism held full sway. We are all of good courage in the Master's work, and are doing all we can to push it forward.