Earlier text: General ArticlesOf all the barbarian nations that divided the Roman Empire, the Alemanni 'were the first who removed the veil that covered the feeble majesty of Italy.' But as their progress beyond the Rhine is so intimately connected with that of the Franks, we have reserved to this place the history of this people. 'They are first mentioned by Dion Cassius, who relates that the Emperor Caracalla gained, in 203 A. D., a victory over them on the banks of the Maine, and thence assumed the surname Alemannicus. The origin of this tribe, and the country from which they came, are unknown; but we have a distinct statement, which is apparently confirmed by the very name of the people, that they had flocked together from all parts, and were a mixed race. They proved most formidable enemies to the Romans as well as to the Gauls, their western neighbors, who, to this day apply the name Alemanni (Allemands) to all the Germans indiscriminately, though the Alemanni, properly so called, occupied only the country between the Maine and the Danube. In the reign of Aurelian, 270 A. D., they attempted to invade Italy, but were repulsed. After the death of that emperor, however, they renewed their attacks by invading Gaul, and ravaging the country at different times. Several undertakings against them were of little avail, until in 357 A. D. the Emperor Julian completely defeated them in the neighborhood of Strasburg, where all their forces were assembled under seven chiefs. This and other defeats, however, did not break the power of the Alemanni, who, being pressed on by other barbarians in the North, were forced to advance southward and westward to conquer new countries for themselves. Hence, after the middle of the fifth century, we find them established not only in the country now called Suabia, but also in a part of Switzerland and in Alsace. In these countries the Alemanni have maintained themselves ever since, and the greater part of the modern Suabians and the northern Swiss are descendants of that ancient race.'—Encyclopedia Britannica, art. Alemanni. 'In the reign of the emperor Caracalla [A. D. 211-217], an innumerable swarm of Suevi appeared on the banks of the Mein, and in the neighborhood of the Roman provinces, in quest either of food, of plunder, or of glory. The hasty army of volunteers gradually coalesced into a great and permanent nation, and, as it was composed from so many different tribes, assumed the name of Alemanni or Allmen, to denote at once their various lineage and their common bravery. The latter was soon felt by the Romans in many a hostile inroad. The Alemanni fought chiefly on horseback; but their cavalry was rendered still more formidable by a mixture of light infantry, selected from the bravest and most active of the youth, whom frequent exercise had inured to accompany the horsemen in the longest march, the most rapid charge, or the most precipitate retreat. 'This warlike people of Germans had been astonished by the immense preparations of Alexander Severus [A. D. 234]; they were dismayed by the arms of his successor [Maximin, A. D. 235], a barbarian equal in valor and fierceness to themselves. But still hovering on the frontiers of the empire, they increased the general disorder that ensued after the death of Decius [A. D. 250]. They inflicted severe wounds on the rich provinces of Gaul; they were the first who removed the veil that covered the feeble majesty of Italy. A numerous body of the Alemanni penetrated across the Danube and through the Rhætian Alps into the plains of Lombardy, advanced as far as Ravenna, and displayed the victorious banners of barbarians almost in sight of Rome [cir. A. D. 260]. 'The insult and the danger rekindled in the senate some sparks of their ancient virtue. Both the emperors were engaged in far distant wars, Valerian in the East, and Gallienus on the Rhine. All the hopes and resources of the Romans were in themselves. In this emergency, the senators resumed the defense of the republic, drew out the Prætorian guards, who had been left to garrison the capital, and filled up their numbers by enlisting into the public service the stoutest and most willing of the Plebeians. The Alemanni, astonished with the sudden appearance of an army more numerous than their own, retired into Germany, laden with spoil; and their retreat was esteemed as a victory by the unwarlike Romans. 'When Gallienus received the intelligence that his capital was delivered from the barbarians, he was much less delighted than alarmed with the courage of the senate, since it might one day prompt them to rescue the public from domestic tyranny as well as from foreign invasion. His timid ingratitude was published to his subjects, in an edict which prohibited the senators from exercising any military employment, and even from approaching the camps of the legions. But his fears were groundless. The rich and luxurious nobles, sinking into their natural character, accepted, as a favor, this disgraceful exemption from military service; and as long as they were indulged in the enjoyment of their baths, their theaters, and their villas, they cheerfully resigned the more dangerous cares of empire to the rough hands of peasants and soldiers. 'Another invasion of the Alemanni, of a more formidable aspect, but more glorious event, is mentioned by a writer of the lower empire. Three hundred thousand of that warlike people are said to have been vanquished in a battle near Milan, by Gallienus in person, at the head of only ten thousand Romans. We may, however, with great probability, ascribe this incredible victory either to the credulity of the historian, or to some exaggerated exploits of one of the emperor's lieutenants. It was by arms of a very different nature that Gallienus endeavored to protect Italy from the fury of the Germans. He espoused Pipa, the daughter of a king of the Marcomanni, a Suevic tribe, which was often confounded with the Alemanni in their wars and conquests. To the father, as the price of his alliance, he granted an ample settlement in Pannonia. The native charms of unpolished beauty seem to have fixed the daughter in the affections of the inconstant emperor, and the bands of policy were more firmly connected by those of love. But the haughty prejudice of Rome still refused the name of marriage to the profane mixture of a citizen and a barbarian, and has stigmatized the German princess with the opprobrious title of concubine of Gallienus.' 'While the victorious and moderate conduct of Aurelian restored the Illyrian frontier, the nation of the Alemanni violated the conditions of peace, which either Gallienus had purchased, or Claudius had imposed, and, inflamed by their impatient youth, suddenly flew to arms. Forty thousand horse appeared in the field, and the numbers of the infantry doubled those of the cavalry. The first objects of their avarice were a few cities of the Rhætian frontier; but their hopes soon rising with success, the rapid march of the Alemanni traced a line of devastation from the Danube to the Po. 'The emperor was almost at the same time [A. D. 270, Sept.] informed of the irruption, and of the retreat, of the barbarians. Collecting an active body of troops, he marched with silence and celerity along the skirts of the Hercynian forest; and the Alemanni, laden with the spoils of Italy, arrived at the Danube without suspecting that on the opposite bank, and in an advantageous post, a Roman army lay concealed and prepared to intercept their return. Aurelian indulged the fatal security of the barbarians, and permitted about half their forces to pass the river without disturbance and without precaution. Their situation and astonishment gave him an easy victory; his skillful conduct improved the advantage. Disposing the legions in a semicircular form, he advanced the two horns of the crescent across the Danube, and wheeling them on a sudden towards the center, inclosed the rear of the German host. The dismayed barbarians, on whatsoever side they cast their eyes, beheld, with despair, a wasted country, a deep and rapid stream, a victorious and implacable enemy.357 'Reduced to this distressed condition, the Alemanni no longer disdained to sue for peace. Aurelian received their ambassadors at the head of his camp, and with every circumstance of martial pomp that could display the greatness and discipline of Rome. The legions stood to their arms, in well-ordered ranks and awful silence. The principal commanders, distinguished by the ensigns of their rank, appeared on horseback on either side of the Imperial throne. Behind the throne the consecrated images of the emperor and his predecessors, the golden eagles, and the various titles of the legions, engraved in letters of gold, were exalted in the air on lofty pikes covered with silver. When Aurelian assumed his seat, his manly grace and majestic figure taught the barbarians to revere the person as well as the purple of their conqueror. The ambassadors fell prostrate on the ground in silence. They were commanded to rise, and permitted to speak. By the assistance of interpreters they extenuated their perfidy, magnified their exploits, expatiated on the vicissitudes of fortune and the advantages of peace, and, with an ill-timed confidence, demanded a large subsidy, as the price of the alliance which they offered to the Romans. The answer of the emperor was stern and imperious. He treated their offer with contempt, and their demand with indignation, reproached the barbarians, that they were as ignorant of the arts of war as of the laws of peace, and finally dismissed them with the choice only of submitting to his unconditioned mercy, or awaiting the utmost severity of his resentment. Aurelian had resigned a distant province [Dacia] to the Goths; but it was dangerous to trust or to pardon these perfidious barbarians, whose formidable power kept Italy itself in perpetual alarms. 'Immediately after this conference, it should seem that some unexpected emergency required the emperor's presence in Pannonia. He devolved on his lieutenants the care of finishing the destruction of the Alemanni, either by the sword, or by the surer operation of famine. But an active despair has often triumphed over the indolent assurance of success. The barbarians, finding it impossible to traverse the Danube and the Roman camp, broke through the posts in their rear, which were more feebly or less carefully guarded; and with incredible diligence, but by a different road, returned towards the mountains of Italy. Aurelian, who considered the war as totally extinguished, received the mortifying intelligence of the escape of the Alemanni, and of the ravage which they already committed in the territory of Milan. The legions were commanded to follow, with as much expedition as those heavy bodies were capable of exerting, the rapid flight of an enemy, whose infantry and cavalry moved with almost equal swiftness. A few days afterwards, the emperor himself marched to the relief of Italy, at the head of a chosen body of auxiliaries (among whom were the hostages and cavalry of the Vandals), and of all the Prætorian guards who had served in the wars on the Danube. 'As the light troops of the Alemanni had spread themselves from the Alps to the Appennine, the incessant vigilance of Aurelian and his officers was exercised in the discovery, the attack, and the pursuit of the numerous detachments. Notwithstanding this desultory war, three considerable battles are mentioned, in which the principal force of both armies was obstinately engaged. The success was various. In the first, fought near Placentia, the Romans received so severe a blow that, according to the expression of a writer extremely partial to Aurelian, the immediate dissolution of the empire was apprehended. The crafty barbarians, who had lined the woods, suddenly attacked the legions in the dusk of the evening, and, it is most probable, after the fatigue and disorder of a long march. The fury of their charge was irresistible; but at length, after a dreadful slaughter, the patient firmness of the emperor rallied his troops, and restored, in some degree, the honor of his arms. The second battle was fought near Fano in Umbria, on the spot which, five hundred years before, had been fatal to the brother of Hannibal. Thus far the successful Germans had advanced along the Æmilian and Flaminian way, with a design of sacking the defenseless mistress of the world. But Aurelian, who, watchful for the safety of Rome, still hung on their rear, found in this place the decisive moment of giving them a total and irretrievable defeat. The flying remnant of their host was exterminated in a third and last battle near Pavia; and Italy was delivered from the inroads of the Alemanni.'—Gibbon, Decline and Fall, chap. 10, par. 26-30; chap. 11, par. 18-22. THE average reader is very apt to gain an impression from the stories of miraculous deliverances in prophetic and apostolic times, that godly men then were always delivered from temporal evil. This impression, though perhaps natural, is incorrect. We learn, for example, that Elijah withholds rain; Elijah grants rain; Elijah is miraculously fed by ravens; Elijah multiplies the widow's meal and oil; Elijah calls down fire from heaven; Elijah calls the dead to life; Elijah divides the Jordan; and, finally, Elijah goes to Heaven in a chariot of fire. Then follows the conclusion that Elijah had no trials such as modern disciples have, and that God helped men then as he does not now. Thus, from the biographies of Abraham, Moses, Joshua, David, Elijah, and Elisha, people draw wrong conclusions, and feel inwardly that the early saints had far easier times than we, and that the religious conflict then was child's play, compared with what we now have to endure. This is illustrated by the case of Elisha. There he lies on his pallet, old, worn, feeble, and stricken with a fatal disease. Probably he suffered much pain. As we stand and look at him, we ask, "Is this not the same man who healed Naaman?" Certainly. "Why, then, can he not heal himself?" Because God has withheld from him this power. "Why does God not deliver his trusted servant from pain in his old age?" We cannot say; for we do not know enough of God's plans to answer this question wisely. The fact, however, remains, that a prophet lies on a dying bed, and no relief comes until death closes the scene. If the faith of Christian children is sometimes put to the test, as they stand helpless by the bedside of an aged father or mother, and wonder why God allows the dear old saints to suffer so, was not the faith of Elisha's friends tested in the same way? Was it not as hard for them to believe in God's goodness, when no help was sent from above, as it is for us under like circumstances? In fact, it is possible that, just because Elisha had been miraculously delivered before, it was now all the harder to be reconciled to his sufferings and death. Is it not true that, if we had stood by Elisha's bedside during his last days, we should have seen that bare faith in God's dealings was as much called for, and as hard to exercise, as it is to-day? But the case of Elisha is not an exceptional case. Look at the eleventh chapter of Hebrews, and, putting aside the cases of those who were delivered by miraculous power, fasten attention on those who had to suffer: "And others had trial of cruel mockings and scourgings, yea, moreover of bonds and imprisonment; they were stoned, they were sawn asunder, were tempted, were slain with the sword, they wandered about in sheep-skins and goat-skins; being destitute, afflicted, tormented; of whom the world was not worthy; they wandered in deserts, and in mountains, and in dens and caves of the earth." Heb. 11:36-38. Surely this does not look like continual miraculous deliverances. Really, it seems as though some ancient disciples had harder, and not easier, times than many modern believers. I believe that, taking the life even of such men as Abraham, Moses, Joseph, Samuel, Elijah, Elisha, Paul, Peter, and John, we should find, on careful examination, that they had more of earthly trial than of earthly ease. Moses's forty years of wilderness life were doubtless hard, and all the harder because of his forty years of court luxury. From courtier to shepherd was a sudden and tremendous leap. From palace to tent, from silk to sheep-skin, from being waited on by servants to the position of shepherd, was a transition full of self-denial and real pain. The fact is, the closer we look at the experiences of God's children in olden time, the more completely will the impression vanish that they had easy times, and that faith, pure and simple, was less called for than in our own times. Joseph in prison for years; David hunted like a wild beast; Elijah fleeing for his life; Isaiah sawn asunder; Jeremiah thrown into a pit; John the Baptist in prison and then beheaded; John the evangelist in exile; Paul stoned, whipped, imprisoned, beheaded; James beheaded; Stephen stoned,—surely all these instances (and there are many more) show that the narrow way was thorny in early times. What, then, may be the helpful lesson to disciples from all this? Why, simply that as men and women, and children too, stood steadfast amid all these troubles, without any especial divine interposition, so may we. Thus their examples, instead of disheartening us, will stimulate us to larger endeavor and more heroic suffering. We shall no longer feel that they had help which is not granted to us. In fact, we in Christian lands will feel that of the two we are by far the more favored, and that high Christian living is easier for us than for those old-time saints. What was the secret of all their fortitude? It lay in their faith. They "endured, as seeing Him who is invisible." That spiritual vision took them through all the deep waters of affliction, and bore them safely through pain, and even death. There lay their power, and there must ours lie. So long as we see him who is invisible, we shall triumph over the seen. When we lose sight of him, and the visible gains power, we can but cry with Elisha's servant, "Alas, my master! how shall we do?"—Rev. A. F. Schauffler, in S. S. Times. Two Kinds of Care.
By Messiah's Herald
ST. PETER says: "Casting all your care [merimna] upon him; for he careth [melei] for you." The first care signifies anxiety, burden, something that divides thought and harasses the soul. The second care, that which God has for us, signifies regard, keeping us upon his heart, restraining us from evil, following us day by day to succor us in our ignorance and weakness. How totally unlike are these two kinds of care! One is altogether unnecessary and destructive. On the other hand, God's care for us is a regard that his nature must bear for us so long as he is God, and is essentially saving and life-giving to the whole universe. Ours is the result of a diseased nature. His care is the brightness of infinite purity, the outgushing of tender pity, the exponent of his great love, the object-lesson by which he instructs us in righteousness. How blessed it is that we can rest our weary souls on him! We need not wait for preparations if we are only sincere and earnest. Let us come to him, even while distracted and oppressed. His care for us is, if possible, greater at such times. If we wait and suffer alone, our distresses will become increasingly grievous. Nor are we to lay at his feet a portion of our heavy burden only. His care extends to everything, whether of temporal or spiritual interests. How many err just here! They seem to think that God does not wish to know about the innumerable little perplexities of their lives, and so, in failing to embrace their full privilege, confidence in him is weak when the deeper trials are brought to his notice. One thing, however, must never be forgotten, namely, God's care for his children does not always deliver them from trial. That very care proposes to secure their perfection of character. This is the first and supreme object in his view. When this divine purpose can be best attained, in the wisdom of God, through trials, his blessed care over us not only sanctions, but even sends the sharp "thorn," or prepares the "fiery furnace." "Casting all your care upon him" is not, therefore, to insure exemption from trying circumstances. Rather, it is to feel the everlasting arms about us, to hear his words of comfort and promise, and to know that in this way the power of Christ is the fruit of our earthly trial.—Messiah's Herald. "Thy Will Be Done."
By R. F. Cottrell
SELFISHNESS and self-will are very nearly related to each other; all sin is of the same family. Selfishness covets that which is not its own, and leads to theft and murder and almost every variety of crime. Self-will seeks to have its own way, and its natural fruit is injustice and hatred. It exalts itself and will not yield; and if it cannot rule, it will seek to ruin. Christ came from Heaven to earth to save men from their sins. He set an example for us to follow. He laid aside his glory, and took the form of a servant. He was with his disciples as one that served. He came not to do his own will, but the will of him that sent him; and in his deepest trial and sorest temptation, when his soul was exceedingly sorrowful, even unto death, he could say, "Thy will be done;" "Not as I will, but as thou wilt." The great lesson for the disciples of Christ to learn is to follow him. "Learn of me," he says, "for I am meek and lowly in heart." He gave himself for us. We owe our all to him, and we should willingly give him all. He was a servant to us; we should cheerfully serve him. And to serve him is to serve those for whom he died. He bids us work in his vineyard. He yielded his will, and drank the bitter cup. It is those who renounce and subdue self-will that will have a part in his inheritance. When we say, I will, and I will not, we do not follow Christ, nor exemplify his meekness and gentleness. The apostle Paul followed Christ. Said he, "I Paul myself beseech you by the meekness and gentleness of Christ." "I beseech Euodias, and beseech Syntyche, that they be of the same mind in the Lord." When we have the same spirit, we shall be able to follow such advice. Let all be of this mind. To SIMPLY work is nothing; we must do it for Jesus's sake. Many of the busiest people in the world forget to consecrate their labor, and then wonder at the absence of expected fruit.—Sel. "The carnal mind is enmity against God; for it is not subject to the law of God." Rom. 8:7. Religion and Happiness.
By W.
"FOR a person to live and die happy, he must believe in the Lord Jesus Christ." These words we lately saw in a religious journal, and have very often heard similar expressions. The utterance of such a sentiment gives evidence of a very crude idea of religion and its object. We think that such a view of religion is injurious, for the following reasons:— 1. It fosters selfishness, which is directly opposed to true religion. To make happiness the sole or the principal incentive for gaining religion, is to direct the attention of the individual to himself rather than to God. Love should be the mainspring of every act of the Christian. The reward of the righteous, and the punishment of the ungodly are both set before us, to stimulate us both by hope and by fear; yet these are not the main incentives. "Perfect love casteth out fear." It is certain that when one is imbued with the Spirit of Christ, who said, "My meat is to do the will of Him that sent me, and to finish His work," he will not do his work through fear of the consequences if he should neglect it. At the birth of Christ the angels sang, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men." Luke 2:14. And the first commandment is, "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind," while the second is, "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself." In true religion there is no place for thoughts of self; the glory of God, and the welfare of our fellow-men comprise our whole duty. All the thought the Christian has to take of self is to keep himself unspotted from the world. 2. The idea is injurious because it tends to the discouragement of those who hold it. If a man thinks that happiness is the sure and invariable result of belief in Christ, he will surely be discouraged when trouble comes, as it certainly will. When the Thessalonians were in distress, Paul wrote to them "that no man should be moved by these afflictions; for yourselves know that we are appointed thereunto." 1 Thess. 3:3. It is enough for the disciple if he be as his Lord, and he was "a man of sorrow, and acquainted with grief." So he says to359 his followers: "If they have persecuted me, they will also persecute you." "Yea, the time cometh, that whosoever killeth you will think that he doeth God service." "In the world ye shall have tribulation." True, the Christian will be "joyful in tribulation," yet it will be tribulation still. 3. The idea that happiness is a constant accompaniment of belief in Christ, is injurious, because it tends to produce false hopes. The careless sinner and the professor who is "at ease in Zion," having this idea, may fancy that they are in good case. They have no trouble, therefore they think the Lord must be pleased with them. They forget that "whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth." Pious Job was afflicted almost beyond conception, while the wicked whom David saw were not in trouble as other men, neither were they plagued like other men. They were in prosperity, and had more than heart could wish. And this was just because they were wicked. The devil can well afford to let his servants dwell in peace, but "all that will live godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution." A happy death is not in itself any evidence of a person's piety, nor an assurance that he is sure of final happiness. The psalmist says of the wicked, "There are no bands in their death; but their strength is firm." Ps. 73:4. On the other hand, a good man may, like Hezekiah, be in sore distress at the thought that he is near death. In a word, the honor and glory of God should be placed before our own happiness. Indeed, happiness should never be sought. If we seek for happiness, it will be sure to escape us, although we may be satisfied with a spurious article. If we glorify God, that is of itself true happiness or blessedness, for Christ declares that they that mourn are happy. And this should show the folly of trusting to feeling in any case. The basis of the Christian's hope and trust is not feeling, but knowledge. In the midst of terrible trial he can say, "I know that my Redeemer liveth;" and although he may feel that because of poverty and low station, he is despised by men, if he keeps "the commandments of God and the faith of Jesus," he may have, not the feeling, but the assurance that he pleases God. W. Correct Motives in Religion.
By John Harvey Kellogg
THIS is a subject of greater practical importance than may appear to those who do not carefully examine its bearings. It is generally supposed that if the action itself be right there is little or no need of further consideration; or if there is honesty of purpose it does not so much matter what the course of action may be. But there is danger that individuals may be lulled into carnal security and ruined by self-deception. Paul said: "And if a man also strive for masteries, yet is he not crowned, except he strive lawfully." 2 Tim. 2:5. A man may worship in blindness; he may be very devoted, and "bow down to wood and stone;" very self-sacrificing, and voluntarily perish under the wheels of the car of Juggernaut. He may even worship the true God, yet not at all to divine acceptance. John 4:23, 24. He may worship Christ, and still worship him in vain. Matt. 15:9. He may, with great earnestness, call upon Jesus as his Lord, and yet be banished as a worker of iniquity. Matt. 7:22, 23. Worldliness or selfishness may be so intermixed in our religion as to make it even abominable in the sight of God. Prov. 28:9. While almost every one acknowledges the utility and necessity of nine of the ten commandments, the remark is frequently made that they are not to be obeyed as commandments; that is, men do not keep the things contained therein because they are commanded, but because they love to do them. To obey a commandment, is, in the estimation of some, too low for a Christian; it is inconsistent with the freedom of the gospel. Christian service, they say, should be that of love only. Every act should be voluntary,—a free-will offering,—and not by any feeling of compulsion. This position is sometimes avowed by those whom we very highly esteem, and whose zeal and service in the cause of Christ are assurance to all of the honesty of their intentions. Yet we consider the position so deeply erroneous that we fear the religion of many is greatly vitiated by this motive, which is really a selfish one. Let us examine a few passages of Scripture bearing on this subject. "For this is the love of God, that we keep his commandments." 1 John 5:3.
"If ye love me, keep my commandments." John 14:15.
"If ye keep my commandments, ye shall abide in my love." John 15:10.
"Why do ye also transgress the commandment of God by your tradition?" Matt. 15:3.
"If thou wilt enter into life, keep the commandments." Matt. 19:17.
"Whosoever therefore shall break one of these least commandments, and shall teach men so, he shall be called the least in the kingdom of Heaven; but whosoever shall do and teach them, the same shall be called great in the kingdom of Heaven." Matt. 5:19.
"And why call ye me, Lord, Lord, and do not the things which I say?" Luke 6:46.
"Here are they that keep the commandments of God, and the faith of Jesus." Rev. 14:12.
"Blessed are they that do his commandments, that they may have right to the tree of life, and may enter in through the gates into the city." Rev. 22:14. All these speak of them, not as mere abstractions, but as commandments, and the duties contained therein are enjoined because they are commanded. But if the decalogue is not now binding as commandments, it is because the Lord has, in some manner, released us from the obligation. If so, why do the things, or any of the things contained therein? We have a case exactly in point. There is a prophecy in Isa. 1:10-15, which, when compared with chap. 66:1-4, and Hosea 2:11, and others, teaches the abrogation of certain duties once enjoined. The question there proposed applies to all false worship, or will-worship: "Who hath required this at your hands?" The truth is that there are no optional duties in the service of God. "All good works" are marked in the holy Scriptures. "To the law and to the testimony," is the constant and only appeal in the Christian life. That which is done, not as a matter of commandment, but as a matter of choice, may be omitted without sin. This is a fact which no one can contradict. And then comes the question: Can a Christian omit the duties enjoined in nine of the ten commandments and not be guilty? Every one will say that he cannot, and yet it is true that "by the law is the knowledge of sin." But one fact, worthy of remark, may always be noticed in these cases, namely, with all their love to do these things, they never love to do what is enjoined in the fourth commandment! So uniformly is this the case that we have been driven to this conclusion that the position is not taken because of any special love to God, but because of a special aversion to the Sabbath. Now let us further ask such an one: Why do you love to do the things contained in nine of the commandments? We cannot imagine what answer can be given but this: Because we love to do that which is pleasing to God. But how do you know it is pleasing to God? Where may we learn that God will be pleased to have his servants do those things? This can only be answered in one way: We know it because we find it in his word. He has spoken it and left it on record. And so, after all, we must come to the commandment to learn that it is duty, and that God will accept it as service to himself. And this destroys the position completely. And now we will ask another question: Why do you not also love to keep the Sabbath? What is the ground of your being thus "partial in the law"? Mal. 2:9. God spake this as well as the other nine. It is left on the same record. The Saviour gave it the same sanction in his life and teachings. Are you sure that your motive is pure,—that it is not alloyed with worldly or selfish considerations? We think it unnecessary to pursue these questions further. The truly conscientious may easily determine this matter for himself by careful self-examination. But we must say, and we think we shall be sustained by every considerate, God-fearing person, that the whole position is inexcusably faulty; so much so that it vitiates the religion of the person who takes it, and must endanger his acceptance with "the Judge of all," in the great day. If it is true that they do the great moral duties of life because they choose to do them—they love to do them—and not because God requires them, then it is true that their service is not that of obedience, for that is not, and cannot be, obedience which does not recognize the obligation of a commandment. Long ago an English reformer asked this question, "Can that be obedience for which there is no commandment?" We hazard nothing in saying that such religion is faulty,—that it has no true foundation on which to rest,—is not service done to God. For, if it is done of choice and not by virtue of God's commandment, then the service centers in self and not in God. And that which does not recognize the obligation of a divine requirement is not service to God. It is verily will-worship, and as such strongly and justly condemned in the Scriptures. Melanchton said that those things which are called virtues among the heathen, and among those who reject the authority of God, are of the nature of vices because they have a vicious origin; because they spring from self and not in respect to God's authority. The indictment stands good against the religion of those who do only the things which they love to do, without regard to what God has commanded. If this be not true, it is because the word of God is not a standard of "faith and practice." That word furnishes the test for all human actions; it informs us on what ground we shall appear in the Judgment. It sums up "the whole matter" in these words:— "Fear God, and keep his commandments; for this is the whole duty of man. For God shall bring every work into Judgment, with every secret thing, whether it be good, or whether it be evil." Eccl. 12:13, 14. Then if we wish to know how we shall appear in the sight of the Judge in that day, let us look to his commandments, and discover how we stand related to them. If we are not in harmony with them here in our probation, they will be against us when our probation ends and we stand where the secrets of the heart are made manifest. And let us never trust to our own hearts, or to our feelings, to guide us in our religion, for this is the height of folly. Jer. 17:9; Prov. 28:26. That Turkish Nuisance.
By Editor
WE have no disposition to interfere with the regular course of the fulfillment of prophecy, but we should really like to see an earthquake, a political revolution, or some other equally potent factor that would sweep away the power of the “unspeakable Turk,” at least as it is now exerted over the countries of Palestine, ancient Phenicia, Mesopotamia, Chaldea, and Assyria. There on monuments, slabs, bricks, cylinders, and seals, a few exposed, but mostly buried in ruins, are the records of the Hittites, Assyrians, Chaldeans, Babylonians, and other peoples named in the Bible—priceless treasures to the world—and there it seems they must remain. The Sublime Porte apparently considers it his special mission in the world to guard these records, and prevent them from ever being brought to the knowledge of man. By State intercession, he can be persuaded to graciously condescend to grant a safe-conduct to scholars to travel through the country and look at the ruins; but not a pick can be struck into the ground, not an inch of gravel can be disturbed, to bring to light any of these hidden records. Dr. William Hayes Ward, in his late report of the Wolfe expedition to those countries, says that great difficulty was experienced in obtaining the necessary permit to travel through these lands; and the difficulty was increased by the interpreter attached to the Porte translating the word “exploration” by a term that implied “excavation” as well, and “that being a thing strictly forbidden, the firman was once and again forbidden.” But by “long and patient explanation,” they had finally made it clear that no excavation was intended, and at last letters were given him directing the governors to give the party “all necessary help,” but “expressly stating that no excavations were to be allowed.” Anything at all that will abate this unconscionable nuisance is an event to be most gladly welcomed.