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Signs of the Times, Vol. 2, No. 25.

JEREMIAH
Earlier text: The Inquisition and Papal Interference

The Abounding Iniquity.

It seems to be assumed in all quarters that the times are out of joint; that sin and folly prevail in high places and low; that the very foundations of social order are in danger of being destroyed. The opinion finds constant expression through the pulpit and the press, in our seats of justice and in our halls of legislation. With the increase of light and knowledge, which has marked the progress of the century, there has come an equal augmentation of all the forces and appliances of evil. It would seem that while the good are getting better, the bad are getting worse at each successive stage of the world's advancement, and if this be the law of its progress, it is difficult to see, on principles of human calculation, what the end will be. We are left, however, in no uncertainty as to the final results, for we know that God is on the throne, and he has assured us in his Word that the good shall at last triumph.
It cannot be denied that there is, in all parts of our land, and in all ranks of society, an unusual prevalence of luxury and extravagance, violence and corruption, vice and crime, threatening the very existence of our free institutions. At such a spectacle many of our oldest and wisest men are filled with astonishment and misgiving as to the future. What these things mean and what they portend, are problems which call for the thoughtful and prayerful consideration of all true patriots and Christians. In a state of things like this there can be no higher duty of the citizen or of the churchman, in this Centennial year, than to bring all his powers and all his influence to the removal of prevailing evils and the restoration of our country to its pristine integrity. It is not much that one individual can do; but little or much, every one should feel bound to contribute what he can; and all good men together may be strong enough under God to save us from ruin.
To us it seems perfectly plain, that the fearful domestic, social and public evils of the times have grown out of a departure from the essential truths of God's Word, and the obvious requirement of God's ordinances, on the part of the individual, the family, and the nation. There has been a growing disregard of all the old established principles of religion and morality, and with it a relaxation of the demands of conscience
a connivance with sin and folly, a yielding toleration of error, a tacit conformity to the maxims of worldly wisdom, and an open or secret indulgence in a thousand practices condemned by the Word of God. All this has come in large measure from the prevailing skepticism, materialism, and atheism of the age. A whole generation has sprung up under this teaching, and we are beginning already to reap its harvests. Our people have drifted away from all the old land marks. Under the popular watchword of progress, a good thing abused, they have been trying the experiment of countless innovations. They have gone after other gods, unknown to the fathers of our church, and the founders of our republic.
There has been a gradual, but now very wide departure, from the great principles of virtue and integrity, of individual character and of public honor, on which our republican institutions were founded, and by which they were maintained through all our earlier history. It is the fashion now, in certain quarters, to decry the great principles of the German and Swiss Reformers, the French Huguenots, the English Puritans, the Scotch Covenanters, and the New England Pilgrims. But it is one of the best established facts in history, and one of the grandest, that these are the very principles on which the American church and the American State were founded—the distinctive principles on which their young and vigorous life was nourished up to greatness, which have given character to us as a people, and made the nation respected and honored in the eyes of mankind.
For the first fifty years of our history there was comparatively little departure from the maxims of our fathers. The affairs of the nation were administered on the same principles of economy, frugality, honesty, public spirit, and patriotism, which had distinguished the career of all our early statesmen and patriots. But the last half century, especially the last quarter, with its influx of population, its accumulation of wealth, its lust of power, and its unparalleled splendor, has brought a woeful declension of moral character. Many among us have become so paganized and demoralized that they seem to be ashamed of our nation's religious origin and Christian character. They stand ready to wage war against some of the most cherished institutions of our fathers. They clamor for the abrogation of our Sabbath laws, and the exclusion of the Bible from our noble and hitherto successful system of public education.
The church itself, in many of its branches, has caught the prevailing spirit of worldliness, and, instead of rebuking the sins of the times, has been willing to join in the idolatry of wealth and fashion. We might almost take up the lamentation of the prophet over the desolation of Jerusalem, and say, “Judgment is turned away backward, and justice standeth afar off; for truth is fallen in the street and equity cannot enter.”—Interior.

Keeping Saturday for Sunday.

By Uriah Smith

READER, if you are one of those who have turned their steps to all the commandments of God, by the observance of his holy Sabbath, you have doubtless more than once been designated as one who “keeps Saturday for Sunday;” and you have probably considered, also, how fair an index this is of the little understanding such have, either of our motives or our position.
We can inform our friends that we do not keep Saturday for Sunday. Our reverence for Sunday is not so great notwithstanding the antiquity of the institution, and the multitudes who observe it, that when we keep another day we keep it for Sunday.
We keep Sunday for Sunday; and we intend to keep it as it was originally designed to be kept, and according to the only divine example we have for keeping it; that is, by honorable labor; and we endeavor also to keep the Sabbath, as such, esteeming it holy unto the Lord and honorable, not doing our own ways. Isa. 58:13.
But in keeping Saturday as the Sabbath, do you not keep it for Sunday? No; for Sunday is not the Sabbath. In observing the seventh day as a day of rest, we have both divine precept and example to support us. We have the most positive testimony that that is the day which the Creator set apart as a rest-day for man. Those who observe the first day of the week acknowledge the existence and necessity of a Sabbath, but they have taken a day of their own choosing on which to observe it. The guilt therefore of departure from the sacred oracles in this matter, rests upon our opponents and not upon us. The charge which they so often apply to us belongs to them; for they have departed from the original institution, and keep Sunday for Saturday! They remind us of the fable of the lamb and the wolf, in which the wolf, though farther up the stream than the lamb, accused him of roiling the water which he was to drink.
There is another expression equally erroneous and perhaps as frequently used. People will often, addressing a Sabbath-keeper on the Sabbath, tell him that they believe this is his Sunday! So thoroughly have their minds become imbued with a First-day Sabbath, that it seems impossible for them to separate the two ideas of Sunday and Sabbath; and whatever day a man observes as a day of rest, it must be to him his Sunday.
It is a fact, however, that our Sunday falls on the same day that theirs does; only we regard it as Sunday merely and nothing more.
But we do not expect that the world will cease to regard us in this light. We only hope that the time may soon come when large numbers more may cease to keep Sunday for Saturday, and be added to those who are accused of “keeping Saturday for Sunday.”
U. S.

Hell without Purgatory.

On the supposition that eternal torture is to be inflicted as a penalty for a life of sin in this world, were man asked if God's conduct in this respect was just, his own innate sense of justice, not yet wholly obliterated by the fall, would prompt him to a universal and determined, No! The framers of different religious systems have felt this, and seem to have searched sharply for some avenue of escape from the fearful wrong of this horrid theory. So Plato had his Acherusian lake from which at least some of the wretched sufferers in Tartarus, after a purgative process, might issue forth again to the upper air. Augustine following Plato in his notion of an abode of unending pain for some, had also his purgatory from which others might find a road to Heaven. Rome has only a purgatory, the fires of a finite period, for the millions within her communion. Origen conceived of a purgatory wider than Plato's, Augustine's or Rome's, from which all should at length be restored to the favor of God.
The churches of the Reformation have generally accepted of Augustine's hell, but denied his purgatory. In the Protestant denominations, therefore, we have this doctrine in its most horrid aspects. And it is no marvel that many who have felt compelled by their creed to accept it, have shrunk from its advocacy, and have tacitly, if not openly, confessed that they could heartily wish it were a lie.
Saurin at the close of one of his sermons thus speaks:—
“I sink, I sink, under the awful weight of my subject; and I declare, when I see my friends, my relations, the people of my charge,—this whole congregation, when I think that I, that you, that we are all exposed to these torments; when I see in the lukewarmness of my devotions, in the languor of my love, in the levity of my resolutions and designs, the least evidence, though it be only possible or presumptive, of my future misery, I find in the thought a mortal poison, that diffuseth itself through every period of my existence; rendering society tiresome, nourishment insipid, pleasure disgusting, and life itself a cruel bitter. I cease to wonder that the fear of hell hath made some melancholy, others, mad; that it hath disposed some to expose themselves to a living martyrdom, by fleeing from all commerce with the rest of mankind, and others, to suffer the most terrible, violent torments.”
Albert Barnes, the well-known preacher and commentator, speaks on the same point as follows:—
“I confess when I look upon a world of sinners, upon death-beds and grave-yards, upon the world of woe filled with hosts to suffer forever; when I see my friends, my parents, my family, my people, my fellow-citizens; when I look upon a whole race all involved in this sin and danger, and when I see the great mass of them wholly unconcerned, and when I feel that God only can save them, and yet he does not do it—I am struck dumb. It is all dark, dark, dark to my soul, and I cannot disguise it.”—Sermons, pp. 124, 125.
Such is the effect of the doctrine of eternal misery with some, according to the confession of its own advocates. No one can say that such effects are either good or desirable. And why does it not have this effect upon more? We answer, it is because the lips only mechanically assent to what the heart and reason either will not try to realize, or else do not seriously believe. Says Bishop Newton:—
“Imagine a creature, nay, imagine numberless creatures produced out of nothing . . . delivered over to torments of endless ages, without the least hope or possibility of relaxation or redemption. Imagine it you may, but you can never seriously believe it, nor reconcile it to God and goodness.”—Dissertation, No. 60.

Majorities.

By Jos. Clarke

“BEHOLD the nations are as a drop of a bucket, and are counted as the small dust of the balance; behold he taketh up the isles as a very little thing.” Isaiah 40 : 15.
It appears to those who view this world from the standpoint of the natural or carnal heart, that, the majority being on the side of error, it must be strong; and that, as only a few hold to the truth, it must be weak. But this is not the case. To those who are familiar with the dealings of God with men in past ages, it is clear that men, no matter how mighty they may be, have no power when warring against God. As an instance of this let all read the thirty-seventh chapter of Isaiah, in which is found the pleadings of king Hezekiah as he spread that insulting letter from the Assyrian king before the Lord. He, without an army, without means, threatened by a powerful, well-trained army, there implores the Almighty to vindicate his own power and promises.
Oh, that some inspired artist could take a photograph of good King Hezekiah, standing there in that sacred temple, which he had restored from its desecration, as he unrolled that letter from the Assyrian leader, and as he looked up to his God in humble faith, realizing the presence of a vast army at his gates, menacing his very existence, his honor and the honor of his people, and above all the honor of the sacred cause he represented. But what was the result of being in the minority then? It was that the Lord worked wonderfully for the Israelites, and “the angel of the Lord went forth, and smote in the camp of the Assyrians a hundred and fourscore and five thousand; and when they arose in the morning, behold they were all dead corpses.”
Thus did he work for his people then, and in the same powerful manner will he deliver his people now, even though they are in the minority.
Hezekiah did not take the popular view of majorities. No, he looked into heaven itself, to the great and unchangeable Jehovah, who rules the vast system of systems, and who is able to vindicate his truths under any emergency.
Jos. CLARKE.

Bible Chronology, Gen. V.

ADAM was born A. M. 1; Seth, 130; Enos, 235. Adam died A. M. 930; Seth, 1042; Enos, 1140. Adam, Seth, and Enos, lived to see Lamech, the 9th from Adam. Lamech was 56 years old when Adam died, 168 when Seth died, 266 years old when Enos died.
Canaan, the 4th from Adam, was born A. M. 325; Mahalaleel, 395; Jared, 460. Canaan died A. M. 1235, having lived 910 years. Mahalaleel lived 895 years, and died A. M. 1290. Jared died A. M. 1422 having lived 962 years. These three lived contemporary with Noah, the 10th generation. They died in the 179th, 234th, and 366th, years of Noah, respectively.
Enoch, the seventh from Adam, was born A. M. 622, and lived 365 years on this earth. Then he was translated A. M. 987, 669 years before the flood.
Methuselah, the 8th, was born A. M. 687, lived 969 years, and died A. M. 1656. In the same year the flood came.
Lamech, the 9th, was born A. M. 874, and lived 777 years till A. M. 1651. He died five years before the flood.
Noah, the tenth from Adam, being born A. M. 1056, lived 600 years till the flood, A. M. 1656. He died A. M. 2006, being 950 years old. Thus Noah, the last of the tenth generation, lived till more than half this world's history B. C. was finished.
The year when Noah died, A. M. 2006, is called by the common chronology, B. C. 1998, instead of B. C. 1994, which would make just 4000 years. Consequently they begin the chronology called A. D., four years after Christ was born. Thus you will see in the Bible that the year of Christ's baptism is called A. D. 27 when he was 30 years old, the age appointed for service in the ministry and tabernacle. Num. 4: 3, 35, 43.—Sel.

The Truth in New Fields.

Cheering reports come from Elder D. M. Canright of his labors in Dallas, Texas. He reached that place Friday, May 5. The next day, Sabbath, he spoke to about twenty-five brethren and sisters upon the subject of baptism and organization, after which a church was organized of eighteen members. Sunday morning eleven souls were buried with Christ in baptism. This was the first baptismal scene ever witnessed among our people in that State. The next Sabbath six more were baptized, “among whom were a father, mother, son, and daughter, of the same family. All four went into the water together, hand in hand, and remained there till all were baptized. This was so touching a sight that many were moved to tears.”
“All these were thorough southerners, one a Confederate soldier. Two of those baptized before were also Confederate soldiers. Ten more joined the church this Sabbath, making twenty-eight in all. Then Bro. E. G. Rust was elected and ordained deacon,” after which all entered heartily into celebrating the ordinances of the Lord’s house.
Sunday morning the subject of Systematic Benevolence was presented, and a pledge made to the amount of $264.80. A Tract and Missionary Society was also organized, consisting of thirty-two members. Besides the regular membership money, $69 were pledged and paid for a tract fund.
Of his labors during the week Eld. C. says, “I went out twelve miles to the home of Bro. A. B. Rust, and then ten miles farther to visit a family of new Sabbath-keepers. Bro. Rust’s neighbors urged that I should preach to them. A new house was being built near there, so they seated it and appointed a meeting at 3 P. M., Thursday. As the notice was short and work was pressing, I did not expect many. But at the hour appointed, here they came from every direction, afoot, on horseback, and with wagons, men, women, and children, both white and black, to the number of a hundred or more. The horses were lariated around the house, border style. Here I saw something new,—the whites all seated inside the house and the colored people all outside,—an invariable custom through the South. I had the best of attention, and a deep impression was made.”
There are now about sixty Sabbath-keepers in Texas. “About half of these are Southern people who have moved from Arkansas, Alabama, Georgia, etc. Like good Christians, they are now sending the truth back to their friends in these States.”
Thus the way is being more fully prepared for the spread of the truth in the Southern States.
Bro. Soule who has been holding meetings in Bledsoe Co., Tenn., reports that “twenty have signed the covenant to keep the commandments of God and the faith of Jesus.” He is now laboring in Pikeville, a little village situated just above the middle of the Sequatchie Valley. This valley is from 3 to 5 miles wide and 65 miles long, and general interest to hear the truth prevails throughout. May the good work still continue, and the time soon come when all, not only those in Tennessee and Texas and the Southern States, but those in every country upon the globe, will hear the truth, and have an opportunity to receive or reject it. Then shall the end come.

Gilroy and San Jose.

By John Norton Loughborough

SABBATH and First-day, May 27 and 28, I held five meetings with the company of Sabbath-keepers in Gilroy. I was glad to find a few still holding on steadfast in the truth. Only a few of those who professed the truth as the result of the tent-meeting in Gilroy last summer have given it up, but as many more have since embraced the faith.
Several have moved away from the place, one, their leader, has gone to the south-west part of Texas. May the Lord make him a means of doing good in that new field.
The notice of these meetings was so short that some who reside several miles out in the country were not there. I trust the meetings were a source of encouragement to those who did assemble. A number of outside hearers attended the evening meetings, and listened with interest.
If the few who remain in Gilroy would see the cause prosper they must not only be punctual in attending meeting, but each should act a part in bearing his testimony, and thus add interest to the meetings, and gain strength themselves.
While in Gilroy, on First-day morning, a friend invited me to go with him to a hotel where the landlord had been shot the night before. I learned that he was a man given to excessive drinking of liquor. He was taken with the delirium tremens, arose in the night and smashed up things in the lower part of the house, and started for the chamber, threatening to kill his own children. A man at the head of the stairs, who with his wife and several children were boarding in the house, seeing this fiend in human form rushing toward the helpless women and children, shot him dead on the spot. As I viewed this man, who thus suddenly came to his end, two thoughts came with force to my mind, one the words of David, “Died Abner as the fool dieth.” The other, the words of Mr. Gough, the great temperance lecturer, when he saw a man dead drunk in a gutter, “There is temperance lecture enough for one day.”
Monday evening, May 29, passing through San Jose, I spoke to a few at their hall, on the importance of the work in this time. Trust the meeting may result in some good.
J. N. LOUGHBOROUGH.

Manners and Morals.

By Horace Mann

Manners easily and rapidly mature into morals. As childhood advances to manhood, the transition from bad manners to bad morals is almost imperceptible. Vulgar and obscene forms of speech keep vulgar and obscene objects before the mind, engender impure images in the imagination, and make unlawful desires prurient. From the prevalent state of the mind, actions proceeds, as water rises from a fountain. Hence what was originally only a word or phrase, becomes a thought, is meretriciously embellished by the imagination, is inflamed into a vicious desire, gains strength and boldness by being always made welcome, until, at last, under some urgent temptation, it dares, for once, to put on the visible form of action; it is then ventured upon again and again, more frequently and less warily, until repetition forges the chains of habit; and then language, imagination, desire, and habit, bind their victim in the prison-house of sin. In this way profane language wears away the reverence for things sacred and holy; and a child who has been allowed to follow, and mock, and hoot at an intemperate man in the streets, is far more likely to become intemperate himself than if he had been accustomed to regard him with pity, as a fallen brother, and with sacred abhorrence, as one self-brutified or demonized. So, on the other hand, purity and chasteness of language tend to preserve purity and chasteness of thought and of taste; they repel licentious imaginings; they delight in the unsullied and the untainted, and all their tendencies and aptitudes are on the side of virtue.—Horace Mann.

All Things Work Together for Good

“ALL things work together for good to them that love God.”

Prayer

PRAYER is a humble appeal from our impotency to God's omnipotence.

Librarians.

By John Norton Loughborough

In further considering the practical workings of the Tract and Missionary Society we will call attention to the duties of librarians. The duties of the librarian with the missionary members in his locality, are similar to the duties of the district secretary with the churches in his district.
The librarian is to take charge of the missionary documents of his church, charging to each individual the tracts and pamphlets taken from the library, with the number of pages and value of the same, giving the individual credit for all money he pays, such as membership, donations, and book sales.
In discharging his duties as librarian he needs two books. 1. A List Book, in which are enrolled the names of all persons in his vicinity or church who have paid $1.00 to become members of the State Missionary Society. He should especially interest himself to induce all who are favorable to the truth to become members of the society by paying $1.00. If any church member is too poor to pay the membership fee himself it would doubtless be a pleasure for those who are able, to pay $1.00 for him that he may also be a working member in the society.
2. The librarian will also need a Cash Book upon which he will enter on the first pages, under their respective dates, the missionary documents received from the director. The items of these entries should be furnished by the district secretary at the time the director sends the books to the librarian. This entry should specify the number of tracts, pamphlets, etc., with the number of pages and the total value.
All money received by the librarian, whether for memberships, donations, or book sales, should be paid over to the director at the first opportunity, accompanied by a concise statement respecting it. A copy of this statement should be forwarded by the librarian at the time the money is paid to the director, to the district secretary requesting him to give credit to the said church.
When the librarian reports to the district secretary the money received for memberships, he should be particular to give the names of the individuals who paid the money.
The librarian should supply the members with a small pass book, and see that they keep a minute of the books they draw from the library, with the number of pages and value, and also see that they keep a record of the visits made, the number of letters written in the interest of the truth, and the number of subscribers obtained for our periodicals, that they may be prepared to report at the close of the quarter.
Two weeks before the district quarterly meeting the librarian should place in the hands of each member a missionary blank for their reports. He should urge and assist them in filling out these blanks and see that they are all returned to him in season to report to the district quarterly meeting. On gathering in the blanks the librarian should fill out a blank containing the missionary workings of the society for the quarter. The items for the librarian's report are obtained by adding together the reports of the members of his church. His report should contain, in addition to this, the number of missionary members in his church and the number who report. A copy of this report should be placed in the hands of the district secretary in time for the district quarterly meeting. Should any of your members fail to report in season for the district quarterly meeting, see that their reports are obtained and a summary of them sent to the district secretary during the week following the quarterly meeting.
When the librarian sends to the district secretary a report of the workings of the society for that quarter he should also send an exact inventory of the amount of books on hand, stating if there is a demand for any particular book not in the library at that time. J. N. LOUGHBOROUGH.

“Seven Times.”

By Lynde Palmer

LITTLE MILLY, who felt very happy sitting in the sunshine, was anxious to do something to please the good God who had made such a beautiful world. So, as she learned her verse, “And if thy brother trespass against thee seven times in a day, and seven times in a day turn again to thee, saying, I repent, thou shalt forgive him,”—her gray eyes looked very thoughtful, and her small mouth grew firm in some very important resolution.
Pretty soon down stairs she came to the sitting room, and found nobody there but brother Frank, who had two years the start of her in the race of life, but was not so far ahead as you might suppose. He was looking very discontented. The first words she heard were,
“Real mean!”
“What’s real mean?”
“Real mean to spend such a day as this in school!” and the book he held in his hand was transferred to his foot and sent spinning in the air, from whence it returned with a broken back, and two fluttering leaves.
“O Frank! isn’t that my arithmetic, and you know I was trying to keep it like a new book?” cried Milly.
“I declare it is. I thought it was mine; I’m very sorry; won’t you forgive me?” said Frank in a tone of real regret.
“Yes,” said Milly, slowly picking up the scattered leaves, and thinking of her verse. “Yes, I suppose so!” and under her breath she added, “One.”
Breakfast over they started for school together.
“Milly,” cried Frank, suddenly, “here comes a big dog—tongue out, red eyes! Look out for hydrophobia! Run for your life!”
Poor Milly ran forward in great terror, too frightened to see where she stepped. Down went one foot in a treacherous hole, and the rest of Milly came tumbling after. This was a serious mishap; for the skin was quite rubbed off from one dimpled elbow, and worst of all one of the morocco shoes—bright as a mirror, had a great white, unsightly graze. Milly burst into tears, not about the elbow, for she could bear pain like a hero, and she knew that Nature, with the help of that experienced old tailor, Time, would soon set in a patch so nicely joined that she could never find the seam; but the new shoe, that was hopeless.
“O Frank! how could you! And the dog was only old Cato, that would not hurt a fly.”
“Why, Milly, I’m sure I never thought you’d fall. I only meant to give you a nice little run. It is too bad that you’re hurt. I am so sorry; won’t you forgive me?”
“Yes, I’ll try,” said Milly, swallowing a lump in her throat. “Two,” she sighed softly to herself.
At school Frank was very aggravating, and Milly had great temptation to forget her verse. He borrowed her slate pencil and lost it, and once when she went up to her class, he put his feet in the way, and Milly, stumbling over them, fell, to her great mortification and the laughter of the school. But Frank was so sorry. How could he help it? He tried very hard to keep them under the desk, but there was room there only for one. He was sorry, and patient Milly had to forgive him.
There were two or three other grievances in the morning which I have not time to relate. We will pass on to the time when school was out, and Milly found, to her great dismay, that there had been a change in the weather, and the rain was pouring down in torrents; but chivalrous Frank borrowed an umbrella, and taking Milly’s plump hand under his arm, started off as valiant as Greatheart.
“Look out! you swing the umbrella so that half the time it drips on my head,” cried Milly.
“A little water won’t hurt you, will it?” cried careless Frank.
But when they reached home, poor Milly found that the coloring matter had run from the umbrella, and long, dingy streams disfigured the cherry lining of her pretty hood.
“Well, now, that is too bad,” cried Frank, observing her look of blank dismay.
“Well, Milly, you know I didn’t mean to. I’m sure you’d forgive me if you knew how sorry I felt.”
“I do forgive you,” said Milly with an effort, and she counted something on her fingers. “Seven,” said she to herself, with a great sigh of relief.
“What have you been counting all day, Milly?” asked Frank, curiously.
Milly did not answer; but as she ran in to dinner, a very self-satisfied smile was on her face, and she repeated to herself, “Seven times. Well, I hope God has been pleased for it has been very hard; and I am so glad it’s over, for I don’t think I could hold out any longer.”
It rained so hard in the afternoon that Milly and Frank were allowed to stay at home and study in the play-room.
“Oh dear,” said Frank with a yawn, “before I begin this ‘rule of three that puzzles me,’ let’s have one little tune out of that music box that Uncle Charley gave you.”
Milly’s eyes brightened. She could not resist the temptation, and running from the room she soon returned with the treasure. Carefully she put in the little key and turned it with great caution; but mischievous Frank slipped in a little wooden wedge to the delicate works, and when she paused and listened, with smiling lips, and head turned on one side, the wonderful box was mute.
“What is it,” cried she, turning quite pale.
“Oh,” said Frank, magnificently, “don’t be alarmed, I’m a great magician, just let me put my finger in the box one second, and all will be right.”
Milly entrusted it to him with trembling hands. In went Frank’s confident fingers, but he pulled out the wedge a little too roughly. Snap! went some delicate spring. There was a dreary noise, as if the whole box were going to fly in pieces, and then all was still again. Frank examined the box with a dismayed face.
“Milly,” said he at length, with an effort, “it’s broken—spoiled! Can you ever forgive me?”
“No,” said Milly, stamping her little foot, “I can’t, and I needn’t either. It’s the eighth time! My dear, darling music box! You did it on purpose! You are bad to me! I’ll run right to your room and tear your kite and spoil everything I can find.”
Poor, remorseful Frank offered no opposition, and across the hall she ran, with streaming eyes and burning cheeks, and stumbled right into Uncle Charley’s arms.
“Hity tity! What’s the matter now?” But before the words were out of his mouth she was pouring forth her pitiful story.
Uncle Charley looked grave when she finished. “And so you think it right to be angry now?”
“Yes,” said little Milly impetuously. “It is quite right. I’ve forgiven him seven times. This makes eight.”
“But didn’t you know,” said Uncle Charley, “that there is another verse in which Jesus tells Peter not only to forgive his brother seven times, but until seventy times seven?”
“Seventy times seven,” cried Milly, looking bewildered. “Oh, I am sorry I ever begun. I shall have to give up trying to please God that way.”
“I hope not,” said Uncle Charley.
“But you don’t know how hard it is to keep forgiving and forgiving,” wept little Milly.
“Yes, I think I do, and I shouldn’t wonder if the disciples knew it, too. It certainly is hard, but we must always keep trying, and not count the times either; for I think seventy times seven means that we should always forgive.”
“Oh, I can’t do it,” sobbed Milly, turning decidedly away from poor Frank, who stood in the doorway, the image of despair.
“I’ll give you my new book of travels, Milly, and save all my money until I can buy you another box,” cried Frank, in doleful tones.
But Milly would not listen.
“Very well, I would advise you not to say, ‘Our Father,’ for a day or two,” said Uncle Charley.
“Why,” said Milly, in surprise.
“Why, just think how very sad it would be to have to pray in this way: ‘And forgive us our trespasses as we forgive Frank who has trespassed against us.’”
Milly’s cheeks grew red. She hesitated a moment, and then crying, “I can’t give up ‘Our Father,’” she ran to the sorrowful figure in the door, threw her arms around his neck and had a good cry on the left pocket of his roundabout.
Goodhearted, blundering Frank has grown much more tender and careful of his little sister since then, and as for her, if you should ask Frank, “How often does Milly forgive now, till seven times?” you would see his honest eyes fill with affectionate tears, as he answered softly:—
“Milly is too good to count, and I don’t dare to; but I am quite sure till seventy times seven.”—Lynde Palmer.

Getting in Debt.

WHILE we can praise Christians of our acquaintance for their freedom from the sin of trafficking in intoxicating spirits, we feel sorry to say that the demoralization among them on the subject of going in debt, and a disregard of the obligations of right and duty in such cases, is most fearful. Many brethren in debt, brethren unable to pay the dues they owe their fellow-men, have no conscience in spending on foolish luxuries and in vain show and display, for themselves and their families, sums of money sufficient to relieve many of their pressed and needy creditors.
Whenever I have received another's money or possessions, with a promise to return or pay it, whatever of money I may possess, until it is paid, is rightfully his, not mine. When I spend that money without his consent, I spend his money not mine. The fact that I have it in my possession does not alter at all the morality of the case from what it would be if it were in his possession, and I were to take his money against his will and spend it for my own or for my family's benefit.
There is just as much moral dishonor and dishonesty in withholding from a man what is his, as in taking it from him in the first place. If I borrow his wagon or his horse to use a day, and then withhold it a week or a month against his wishes, I commit as great a moral crime as if I had taken it in the first place against his will. When I borrow money, or purchase property to be paid for at a certain time, and I withhold the pay for the purpose of using the money, or the value of the money, my act is of the same moral turpitude as though I had forcibly taken possession of my creditor's money in the first place against his will. When I am in debt then, and use the money rightly belonging to another to trade or to speculate on, to spend on myself or my family, I act morally just as though I took forcible possession of my creditor's money to supply my own family or myself with luxuries and comforts of life.
Brethren, our consciences, our morals need educating to a higher and purer standard of right on these subjects. The Christian religion calls for it, and because we do not practice a purer morality and higher standard of honesty, the Christian religion is reproached, and our fellow-men are driven from the church of God. * A Christian with a cultivated, tender conscience, with a nice sense of Christian integrity, will not retain the money or property of another for his own benefit. He will not spend in luxuries for himself or family what is justly another's.
Brethren, let us cultivate tender consciences, a true Christian sense of integrity, and act up to it. The religion of Christ will not then suffer reproach in our lives, and our fellow-men will be attracted by the beauty of holiness within the pale of God's redeeming mercy, that they may enjoy the blessing of salvation.—Gospel Advocate.

Spiritual Dyspeptics.

By Ellen G. White

There are those among the professed followers of Christ who are spiritual dyspeptics. They are self-made invalids. Their spiritual debility is the direct result of their own short-comings. They do not obey the laws of God and carry out the principles of his commandments. They are indolent in the cause and work of God, doing nothing. But when they think they see something with which they can find fault, then they are active and zealous. A Christian who does not work cannot be healthy. Spiritual disease is the result of neglected duty. In order for a man's faith to be strong, he must be much with God in secret prayer. How can a man's benevolence be a blessing to him if he never exercises it? How can we ask God to help in the conversion of souls unless we are doing all in our power to bring them to the knowledge of the truth? Many have brought upon themselves a debility which has made them useless to themselves and to the church, and the remedy is repentance, confession, and reform. They need moral power and the real nourishment of the grace of God. Nothing will give sinew and bone to our piety like working to advance the cause we profess to love, instead of hindering it. There is but one genuine cure for spiritual laziness, and that is, work; working for souls who need our help. E. G. W.

Thorns and Flowers.

By Sel.

God's ways are not as our ways, his thoughts are not as ours; He wounds us sore with cruel thorns, where we have stooped for flowers; But, oh! 'tis from the oft-pierced heart those precious drops distil, That many a life, else all unblest, with healing balm shall fill.
Then give, oh, give the flowers to those who pray it so may be! But I would choose to have the thorns with thee, dear Lord, with thee.
Man judgeth man in ignorance, he seeth but in part; Our trust is in our Maker, God, who searcheth every heart.
And every wrong, and every woe, when put beneath our feet, As 'stepping-stones may help us on to his high mercy-seat. Then teach us still to smile, O Lord! though sharp the stones may be, Remembering that they bring us near to thee, dear Lord, to thee. —Sel.
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