THREE DOLLARS PER ANNUM.
PUBLISHED BY J. W. BURKE A 00., FOR THE M. CHURCH, SOUTH.
i. i. r
E. H. MYERS, D D., EDITOR
VOL. XXXIV. NO. 45.
MACON, GA., WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 8, 1871.
WHOLE NUMBER 1875
Contributions.
t;!V Receiving without Pay ing an
Equivalent.
t- Thi^re is no moro fruitful source of moral
evil in the land, than the desire of receiving
r: something far nothing—of receiving anything
Without paying a just equivalent. This de
sire is first kindled by receiving gifts in
helpless childhood. It is afterwards imper
ooptibly cultivated, when childish dependen
cy is past, by allowing to children unre
strained, selfish gratification, by enoonrag
ing them “to take care cf number one," by
permitting them to domineer over their
playmates, by allowing them to shirk dnty,
to evade labor, to “sponge on, their fel
1 lows, and to live by their wits.
This corrupting desire is again fed by al
lowing children to reoeive gifts without re
turning some compensation; by encourag
ing sharp trading (so-called) by permitting
,r them to bny gift-candies, prize-books and
all such dollar-store clap-traps; by raffles;
by Christmas-tree tickets, except under the
strictest, moral regulations; by grab bag
ohanoes, ohnrch-fair lotteries, and all sncli
gambling enterprises.
This desire once enkindled soon becomes
a passion, and develops itself in the life
and character of the individual. He has no
sense of justioo whatever, and his con
science has never been educated to perceive
moral beauty and excellence. Hu is a
strang v to the requirements of the golden
rale. To work for what he receives, and
pay for what he gets, he thinks would ill
become a gentleman, lienee, he resorts to
lying, cheating, swindling, gambling, steal
ing, and a thousand arts of deception, to
obtain an easy living without honest labor.
Consequently the world is filled with swind
lers, extortioners, gamesters, thieves and
vagabonds, who live by their wits, and think
themselves too good to earn their bread
by the sweat of their brow.”
I have thus briefly attempted to trace the
origin, progress, and results of some of
those groat evils that curse society. t
Let us next prescribe a remedy; or since
am onnee of prevention is worth a pound of
cure, allow us modestly to suggest preven-1
fives.
First. List children from the earliest
period possible bo deeply imbned ith sen
timents and feelings of gratitude for favors
received. Let them bo sensibly impressed
with their obligations to parents and friends
for the ten thousand acts of kindness con
ferred upon them in helpless infancy, and
be taught to repay them, as far as possible,
by constant assiduity, and unremitting at
tention to their every wank Let them be
taught self-reliance, to soora dependence
on others, when they can help themselves;
and to consider it highly indelicate, if not
wholly improper, to receive gifts from any
except nearest relatives, without returning
in some way a full equivalent
Second. Impress them from earliest in
fancy with reverence for sacred things, re
spect for the aged, d. Terence to superiors,
civility to eqnsb, and reverence for God.
Never allow them to speak disrespectfully
of ministers or chief magistrates.
Third, lastly, and above all, imbue them
with sentiments of justice—a true know
led 'fe of their duties and relations to their
fellowmen. A failure at these points neu
tralizes all other attainments in mental and
moral excellence and Christian perfection.
If a man is insensible to gratitude to his
parents for what he has received, and loves
not his brothers whom he has seen, bow
shall he love God whom he has not seen?
A true understanding of this important
principle in morals, explains the seeming
severity of the Jewish law, which was en
acted under the immediate direction of God
himself, and Which punished disc bed isnoe
to parents with death. Let children under
stand in'early life, that it is the great flat of
Omnipotence, that "man must earn his
bread by the sweat of his brow." Let them
know that "he thatbasteth to be rich is not
without sin;” that money should be earned
by hard labor, and cannot be picked np in
the streets, or obtained innocently in any
other way. Bence they must not anxiously
'look for donations, bequests, or legacies.
They must expect to accumulate wealth and
rise to eminence, only by slow gradations—
earning here a little, and there a little, and
increasing it by wise investments and judi
cious economy. Teach them to scorn de
ception and hypocrisy, and avoid all con
cealment in business and trade; to seek to
give perfect satisfaction by plain' and open
dealing and honest bargains; to hate lying
with a deadly hatred, and like Daniel of
old, go to the lion’s den before playing the
part of a menking coward or a tying miscre
ant. Tell them that only cowards lie; that
brave men never deceive; that moral heroes
excel all heroes; that to cheat, swindle and 1
extort are but other names for stealing and
dishonesty; that to buy without expectation
of paying is stealing in advance, and to buy
and never pay, is stealing on a credit; that 1
receiving gifts without compensation is only
opening a door to corruption and bribery;
that to take advantage of Relief Laws and
Bankrupt Enactmer-ts, made by dishonest
political liacks and 1*oral wrecks, may acqnit
us before earthly courts, but will avail noth
ing before the Grand Assize of the Judg- j
utent D»y.
If these principle* were folly understood,
•ad thoroughly incorporated into the char* I
aeter of the yonth of onr land, what a
change would lie wranght in our people
from the hrwest to the highest—from the
aharp nears-boy to the President. We would
no longer aee so many loafers and loungers
around our villages; so many idlers and va
grant* in our rural districts; so many gam
blers, horse-rsoers, money-shavers and swin
dlers in onr eities; and ao many Micawliera
everywhere, waiting for something to turn
up. Inst jd of taking the plow and turnin'/
up mother earth for an honest livelihood,
they are waiting for rich aunts and uncles
to die, or for parents to leave them an in
heritance.
While theae reflections are intended for
all, yet they are peculiarly app**-sble to all
those parents who are placed in such eir
enmetances, tbit they cannot easily train
their children to work. It is a notorious
foot, that children who are not taught to la
bor in sot e way, make useless citizens— in
i'.eed, aa a general rale, become vagabonds
and nuisances in society. Indeed, it is only
by careful smd philosophical induction from
theae principles, that we can explain many
of the moral parad jv«s in society. For n
t r mpie: why honest, Ijdustrkws, hard-work
ing fathers ao often havo lazy, degenerate
J* Men; why sensible, domestic mothers have
mSy, trifling daughters; why so many pious
peranU have wicked, reckless children?
J This, MO, ex plains that trite bnt false old
ahaailm, npon which the wicked world loves
il- to imp} that "the children of ministers
are worn than otbara;" or, in vulgar eant,
that “preachers’ young ones are the devil's
brats.” Their great fault is a want (f grati
tude—their serious misfortune is never hav
ing teamed to work. From the peculiarly
dependent relations and circumstances of
their parents, they have been accustomed
to receive presents, as a matter of course,
in childhood; and, when! they grow up,
continue to expect them. And now, when
presents fail, mother-wit must be taxed to
secure an easy living. A teacher of nearly
twenty years’ experience testifies, that he
has contributed perhaps a thousand dollars
towards the education of preachers’ child
ren, yet he never knew one to exhibit any sense
of obligation, or show anyfeding of gratitude.
As ingratitude is a true index of meanness,
are these children really worse sunken in
human depravity and corruption than oth
ers? We do not believe the slander. We
think this moral obliquity can be readily
explained by reference to the principles that
we have attempted to elucidate.
How important then to inspire in the
young a sense of gratitude—to impress tho
principles of justice and to teach them to
scorn to receive anything, without paying
a reasonable and just equivalent. Anpna.
The Uniform Lessons, and Their
Adaptability to Country Sunday
Schools.
These Lessons are already so popular, that
it is almost useless to write in their favor.
Bat there are somo who oppose everything
that is new. If snch were wine bibbers, their
opposition would show them to be men of
taste—the old is bitter. But in some things,
progress is improvement—for instance, gas
light and patent axle grease are superior to
the tar and tallow candles of our fathers.
Perhaps no institution of the Church has
realized more substantial progress than the
Sabbath-school The adoption of the Uni
form Lessons was an earnest of glorious suc
cess. All may grant this assertion to be true
as far as it applies to the city school, but
some entertain doubt as to the country
schools. We think a little reflection will
change this opinion. Irregular attendance
of the children causes them to lose inter
est sooner than anything and everything else.
These Lessons compensate in some degree
for this Irregularity, and thus supply a defi
ciency that no other books can meet. If it
is necessary sometimes for the children to
remain at home, it is not necessary for them
to misa the lesson—or to lose the place. There
are many advantages in the use of these
Lessons.
One of the most obvious and importaut
-is, they destroy the Union schools.
If these Union Schools should, continue,
then we can appreciate the wisdom of the
advice of the clergyman to his brother per
plexed at the Calvinism and Arminianism of
the gospel, when be told him to preach both.
Their history, as we learn it from observa
tion and District Conference reports, is, in
temperature a la Farenheit, from cold down
to freezing—from freezing down to zero in
early Fall.
It would then be appropriate to sing,
When shall we all meet again
Answer—at the judgment.
Webster’s Spelling Book says that six boys
can sit on one long bench. Imagine one
little fellow at this last meeting, on one lonq
bench, as he stretches backwards and for
wards—and lengthwise and to the right side
vise and to the left side vise, with no class
mates to molest, and no teacher to make him
afraid, as he zealously and appropriately sings,
when shall we all meet again Who wonld
be surprised to know that he sang in his
heart, There is no place like home.”
These Lessons do away with that old exense
which, 'no donbt, was often given to Robert
Bsikes for imperfect lessons—“ wasn’t hece
last Sunday, and didn’t know which the
lesson was.”
The lessons ore written as plainly as the
Gross inscription of Pilate.
The child that has eyesight ean see where
the lesson is, what it is and when it mnst be
said. Ootober22d, 1871, will never come
again—no Sabbath in all the future will
probably bo appropriated to this lesson, the
“Healing of two blind men and of a dumb
demoniac.” It carries the Sabbath-school
to the family that cannot carry their chil
dren to it. The nodding nrchin has long
waited in vain for the bed to come, bnt the
family that, Jacob like, can boast of twelve
prospective tribes, and at the distance of as
many miles from the school, with no loco
motive bnt old Ball and the bnggy, havo
not cherished a vain desire that the Sunday
school wonld come to them. These Lessons
carry questions and explanations and com
ments on difficult passages, besides good
reading and good pictures for ns country folks.
The brother who complained, sometime
sinoe, of their want of pictures, most live in
town, or on the railroad, where he has in
creased his appetite by looking at circus pio
tores. We country people, who have been
accustomed to look at the rude boy in the
apple tree, and snch like and snch size, are
satisfied with the pictures.
But now for the price. Let every miser
take his hahds ont of his pockets and listen
—no robbery! One copy of the Little People
one year—with questions—reading and pic
lures, for ten cents I
The Magazine, with questions, with the
comments of the best authorities on difficult
passages, and with good reading, for $1 per
year I Who can object to price Let the
subscriber keep every number, and at the
end of two years, have them bound in one
volnme, and he will have one of the finest
commentaries on tho four Gospels that is in
existence—and tar only $2.
Theae Lessons compensate for deficiency
in the number and the quality of Sunday
school teachers. All who have any experi
ence in teaching, know that classifying is a
work seldom done well under the old sys
tem. It takes a skillful superintendent to do
this well if he is left free from embarrass
ment But when there are teachers and pu
pils to satisfy, it is not always done accord
ing '»the best judgment. This system, class
ifies, not arbitrarily—but by division of the
lessons into parts, suitable in kind and quan
tity to different capacities—and lets experi
ence teach each how much be may get
It assigns the length tl lessons, which many
teachers in the old system failed to do so
wisely.
It enables the Superintendent to become
the teac'xar of the whole school by weekly
reviews—it stimulates competition of elsases
and teaeUers—ieasena the ehanoes of erro
neous instructions— breaks up winter quar
ters-rainy day exesciseo—holiday Snnday
sohool vacation, and all the train of evils
that must follow.
Lastly, the plan of weekly reviews mid of
more formal quarterly reviews adopted by
the editor, shows his pedagogical skill as
much as his Lessons, in Mo, show his edi
torial ability. Hasten slowly and review fre
quently is i good motto lor him who would
guide youth nsucesssfully. If, at the end
of the two years on the gospel, the good
brother should take a long paddle on the
Ohio, and not get back to his post by Janu
ary following, we would begin to review with
donble lessons—and thus give him a year to
make the return trip. Let every church
send up money to Conference for the Les
sons for 1872. Experience will decide how
wise the choice. Rufus W. Smith.
Siloam Postnffice.
A True Story for Mothers.
Littlo Lacy, from her third to her sixth
year, was sent to sleep with her grand
mother, a pious old lady. Over her cham
ber mantel hnng a picture, which, no donbt,
to her matured Christian mind, presented
bright visions of the future when Gabriel,
with solemn trump, shall call her, with her
sleeping loved ones, to the resurrection of
the just and a bright reward at God's right
hand.
To Lucy, the suggestions of the picture,
woro very different.
Whether the artist was at fault, or Lucy’s
trained conscience, reviewing the errors of
the day painted tho bright form with ter
ror, wo will not now attempt to determine.
Suffice it to say, tho child wonld lie, night
after night, watching the flamo encircling
the figure, trembling with fear until “Na
ture’s sweet restorer folded her softly in
her loving arms.
But Time, who brings changes to all, bore
Lucy on through bitter and sweet, until
she found herself in a bright and happy
home of her own, surrounded by comforts
and joys unnumbered and there was com
mitted to her care, a dear little boy, to take
and nurse for God. One of the first resolu
tions formed for his management was, He
shall never have an unpleasant sight to dis
turb his honr for retirement; but his little
eyes shall closo at night, and be greeted in
the morning by some sweet forms of love
and beauty.”
In selecting for this purpose one of the
pictures placed most conspicuously, was
“The Millennium.” Often wonld little
Willie point and ask childish questions con
cerning the swoet faces in the group and
as he older grew, on tip-toe would he read
again and again the appropriate verse accom
panying.
Old Time has made another circle aud the
little boy has stepped out inlo life. On the
eve of his departure, tho mother, with
swelling heart, swayed by tumultuous bil
lows of hope and fear, was packing his trunk
—she hears his voice—with pacing step he
is repeating the Millennium verse.
“The man who could surround the sum of things,
and spy
The heart of Ood, and secrets of His empire
Would speak but love. With him the bright re
sult
Would change the hud of intermediate scenes,
And make one thing of all theology.’
The mother was rewarded*; it was engra
ven on his memory and traced, she felt, upon
his heart. Has this small seed germinated
Then, others sown in weakness, watered with
.tears, and prayers will yet bring forth fruit,
and in that mother's heart- Hope triumphed.
Moth nt
South Carolina, Ou., 21tf, 1871.
Pulpit Power.
The great want of the times is power in
the pulpit. We need more ministers—bet
ter educated ministers; but after all, the
great want is powerful preachers and devoted
pastors. We have long been convinced that
ministers generally do not pray as frequent
ly, as devotedly, as fervently as they ought.
There is no getting power from on high,”
except by prayer. Without this, there may
be pulpit fire-works, but the Spirit of God
has nothing to do with them—“ the thun
der of his power" responds alone to mighty
prayer. We do not say this will always
produce immediate demonstrative results;
but these will sometimes follow. Vie Chris
tian World says We know a London min
ister who delivered a sermon which was the
I means of twenty-eight conversions. We
know another who preached a discourse of
great power, and thirty-six conversions took
place. An eminent Independent minister
in the provinces preached one Sunday even
ing, and seventy-six persons attributed their
conversion to Ins appeuls, and one of them
became the Mayor and member of Parlia
ment for the city in which the preacher re
sides. A tradition obtains in Cornwall, that
Joseph Benson once preached to an im
mense open-air congregation, and that five
hundred persons professed to find the Sa
viour, and joined the Wesleyan Societies;
and those who have read his life know that
he often preached with such transcendent
I power that his congregations could scarcely
keep tlieir seats. James Sherman often
preached with great effect. A brief extract
from his biography will confirm this state
ment We quote bis own words:
“Occasionally God blessed and dis
tinguished the preaching of His word by re
markablo manifestations of His saving pow
er. In the early part of the year 1837, I
preached one Sabbath evening from Mark
vi. 3C: ‘Aud there was also with him other
little ships.’ The text was striking, nnd
caught the attention of the congregation.
The subject was the earnestness with which
men must seek for Christ, and the risks they
must be willing to run to find Him. As I pro
ceeded in the illustrations and enforcement
of the principles stated, lliero came from
heaven a celestial breeze, and one little ship
after another seemed to start in search of
Christ, until they becarao a fleet The
feeling upon my own mind was that I was
ready to risk all to go with Christ, so glori
ous a Saviour, so exalted a Captain did he
appear. And this feeling was apparently
communicated to the congregation. They
were melted into penitence and tears. Never
shall I forget the impression made when at
the close of the sermon I gave out the
hymn—
Jesus at thy command,
I launch Into the deep.’
Had it been possible and decorous then and
there to have put the question, and to have
asked every one trilling to embark (or the
celestial country to hold up tho hand, I
verily believe almost every one, and most of
them with tears, would have uttered, Here
am I—take me.’ When I descended from
the pulpit, both vestries and the school
room were filled with persons anxious to
converse with me. I began to talk with
them one at time, and asked a few elderly
persons in the Church to distribute them
selves among those in the school-room. In
the midst of my converse, and after he had
waited more than an hour, a gentleman of
some position knocked at my vestry door,
and said, Sir, here are enough to fill twenty
boats; what will you do with ns?' Exhaust
ed beyond measure, I kneeled down and
prayed with them. The place was literally
a Bochim. After pronouncing the benedic
tion, I begged of them to retire, and to
come and seo me on the morrow or on Tues
day. The greatest nnmber did so; but some
were afraid, dear soulsl that the impression
would wear away, and others were so cir
cumstanced that that was tho only time they
had, and they begged, as for their life, that
I would converse with them for a few
mint;'is. I remained amongst them until
eleven o'clock, listening to their repeating
vows and anxious expressions of faith in
Christ. The excitement sustained me for
the time, and a night’s rest recruited me.
But O it was worth dying for to witness such
a soeno. After suitable examination, many
were admitted to the Church, eighty-four of
whom attributed their conversion to Christ
to that sermon. How many joined other
churches is known to Qod alone. The larger
nnmber remained for years; many of them
remain to this day amongst the most active
gnd devoted of the members of tho Church.’’
Laymen are often preachers of extraordi
nary power. Thomas Welter, a ookebume?
by trade, who lived at Scotswood, on the
River Tyne, was a man who, for earnestness
and influence over rude congregations, had
few equals. The lives of Samuel Hide,
William Dawson, Robert Oxtoby, and
.Charles Richardson, the Linconshire thrash
j er, furnish many impressive illustrations of
the highest usefulness. They worked with
their hands, and then read, thought, prayed,
and preached with all their might; and they
had more conversions registered to their
account in the book of remembrance than
many preachers who array themselves in
gowns, bands, and gold rings, and despise
men whose lips the Lord hath touched with
fire of heaven. The Feasant Preacher,”
as Charles Richardson was designated, was
a man of marvelous power in the pulpit,
I and this, too, when his hands were hard
and sore with holding the flail with which,
for years and years, he thrashed his master’s
corn.
We have, in his life, the following account
of his first sermon. Although he had made
an effort to speak in public, he had not
preached a sermon. He was not allowed to
rest, however, until he hod done this, and,
at the urgent solicitation of the people, he
went to the village of Greetham, and took a
fall service. He went with great reluctance
and many misgivings, but resolved, os he
said, “whether he broke down or not, he
would have a good text.” The Scripture
he spoke from was Ezekiel xviiL 27: When
the wicked man turneth away from his
wickedness that he hath committed, and
doeth that which is lawful and right, he
shall save his soul alive.” The first sounds
of his trumpet were those of salvation. He
lived long to proclaim the grace of God,
and from first to last was wondrously suc
cessful. God gave him souls to his minis
try under his first sermon; he spoke with
great power, and several of the people of
the village were awakened, and turned to
the Lord. The population was only a hun
dred and seventy; but such was the holy
influence that spread amongst the people
after this, his first sermon, that in a short
time all the adults in the village were con
I verted to God except three individuals—two
very aged persons, and a military pensioner,
who said: “He would go no more to hear
the Methodists: for if he did they would be
sure to catch him! Spiritual power seemed
to attend this peasant preacher wherever he
went. Iu his lifo we read sentences like
these: “About fourteen or fifteen found
peace in Christ.” “Last week, not fewer
than sixty persons were brought out of dark
ness into gospel light and liberty.” Last
Thursday night, about thirty people were
brought to Ood. There were fifty more
saved during the week.” “Every evening
between twenty and thirty penitents are
seeking salvation.” Whether he preached
I iu a bare, a cottage, a school-room, or a vil
lage sangtuary,' or occupied the pulpits of
the great Methodist chapels in Leeds, Man
chester, or London, it was the same—sin
ners were saved in dozens, scores, and hun
dreds. And yet this man was a simple Lin
colnshire peasant, born in a cottage, and
whose entire education cost only five shil
lings.
Let ns have ministers of every sort, itine
I rant and local, thoroughly or only partially
educated, but let them be men of God—
men whose hearts are in their work—men
who preach with the demonstration of the
Spirit, and with power, and there will be
signs following their ministry, in the con
version of siuners and the edification of the
Church.—Nashville Advocate
Tbe “Easy Chair” on Sunday.
The Editor’s Easy Chair in Harper's Mag
azine, for November, discourses on the
views which some preachers have expressed
in relation to tbe judgment of God upon
Sabbath pleasure-seekers. The Easy Choir
tells a story of a good mau having his leg
broken while on the way to chureh, on Ban
day and the argument is that it would be
quite as logical and reasonable to say that
the good man's accident was a divine judg
ment upon him for going to church, as to
say that the destruction of the hnndred
lives on the Staten Island ferry-boat on
Sunday was a judgment upon them for Sab
j bath breaking. And then the Easy Chair
proceeds to ridicule the Christian idea of
God’s providential care of the Sabbath in
such words as these:
Last Tuesday, slyly said a newspaper
long ago, a clergyman of Ipswich was stand
ing upon the frame of Deacon Jones’ boose,
which was just raised, and unfortunately
falling, he was killed. It is an impressive
warning against standing upon the frames
of unfinished houses on Tuesdays It was
a wise sarcasm; for is there any end to this
cheap interpretation? Yesterday morning,
a little girl going to school slip[ied upon a
piece of orange peal and broke her thigh.
What a piovidential admonition to little
girls not to go to school in the morning!
Last week, Obadiah Screw's gray mare ran
against a scythe left in the pasture, and oat
herself so severely that she died. Tbe day
before, Obadiah Screw ate baked blue-fish
for dinner. Let those who me fond of
baked bine-fish reflect in time up->u this
warning. This is no more almur-l man to
find in an eclipse a sign of tbe Divine dis
pleasure, or in the explosion of the West
field and Ocean Wave the punishment of
sinners.”
Doubtless that this is very fanny reading;
and to a large class of minds it is sound
reasoning and quite conclusive. Aud it de
pends entirely upon the standpoint of the
reader, whother such doctrine is regarded
as heathenish or not. To us it roods like
paganism. A pagan or a pantheist, a deist
or a rationalist, or any one who denies the
immediate superintendence of an ever-pres
ent Providence, whom Christians call God,
may believe that things happen constantly
withont moral purpose, and that nothing
beyond the physical effects of an occurrence
is in the catastrophes that startle and afflict
the world. Such spectators see no God in
the whirlwind, the sunshine, the rain, the
shipwreck, the fire. They would profess
to be shocked by the suggestion that there
was any providential or moral purpose in
the conflagration of Chicago. They would
teach tis that the utmost to bo learned from
it is, to be careful that your cow does not
kick over kerosene in the barn. They do
not believe, and therefore do not see.
lint we who believe that not a sparrow or
a hair falls without our Father’s notioe;
that there is no evil in the city and the
Lord hath not done it; that what are called
the laws of nature are the constant opera
tions of a subtle power that ^pervades the
universe, working out its own will, subordi
nating the lower to the higher, the material
to the moral, with a purpose that compre
hends eternal and infinite relations; we who
take tho Bible as the reveletion of the di
vine will, and there read in language os ex*
plioit as the rule of three in arithmetic or
tho laws of the State in the statute books,
that God does not in this world visit with
present and temporal judgments the work
ers of iniquity; we who believe it is the
duty of a people to humble themselves be
fore God and in prayer to ask Him to avert
his judgments from the land, to stay the
pestilence, to feed the hungry, to clothe
the naked, to turn away his anger justly
roused by tho sins of men; we who believe
that there is a God whose constant care is
over his creatures and who has his own
views as to the wisest and best way of exer
cising that care, dispensing punishments
and rewards with wisdom far beyond our
vision, yet infinitely adorable, aud no be
cause it is above our poor thought; we who
believe these truths believe also at the same
time his Providence is concerned in every
disaster, every war, overy fire, every ship
wreck and that it is the part of Christian
duty to follow the leadings of Providence
and learn all that can be learned from the
greatest and least events.
These thoughts find easy application to
the Easy Chair’s ridicule. Christians be
lieve that the Sabbath is a divine institution,
a day to be primarily devoted to the worship
of God—to moral culture; that such em
ployment as are not on this plane are dis
pleasing to God, who has said, “If thoa
call the Sabbath a delight, the holy of tho
Lord, honorable, and shalt honor him, not
doing thine own ways, nor finding thine
own pleasure, then I will cause thee to ride
upon the high places of the earth.” Chris
tians believe and teaoh that the promisee
and threats thot gave sanction to the Jew
ish SabbatB} apply in their spirit and power
to the Christian Sabbath, and that national
and individual peaoe, prosperity end hap
piness, are associated with a proper regard
for the divine will and economy respecting
the Sabbath. They will not attempt to say
that every accident on Sunday is a judg
ment. They will not hastily interpret di
vine purposes. But they start back with
holy fear from the position of this Easy
Chair denying that God was manifesting
himself in displeasure when men were sys
tematically and flagrantly defying his laws!
We do not say that this or any other disas
ter was a judgment; but not for a thousand
worlds would we undertake to affirm that it
was not. “We are surrounded still with
God,” and if we are Christians, holding the
Bible to be our rule of faith, we must admit
that He who made the law is always ready
to vindicate it before the world.
If it is our duty to pray that God will
preserve us from danger—will avert pesti
lence and famine and fire; if there be any
sense in praying—“from sudden death,
good Lord, deliver us”—then we have a
right also to believe that his Providence
presides in the midst of all events. If
there is no holiness in the Sabbath over
other days, if God regards all days alike,
and is equally pleased when men rest or
work on that day, then this argument goes
for nothing. Christianity believes in the
Christian Sabbath, and thus believing, also
believes that God cares for it.—New York
Obstrver.
Thfe Almighty.
[The following sublime ode to the Supreme Be
ing is translated from the Russian. It was written
by one of their most distinguished poets, Derz
liauir. This ode is said to have been translated
into the Chinese and Tartar languages, written on
rich Bilk, and suspended in the imperial palace at
Pekin. The Emperor of Japan had it translated
into the Japanese embroidered in gold, and hnng
in the Temple of Jeddo. It is gratifying to learn
that these nations hare done themselves the honor
to bestow such praise on this noble composition.]
Q Thon Eternal One! whose presence bright
All space doth occupy, all motion guide;
Unchanged through Time’s oil-devastating flight,
Thou only God! There is no God beside.
Being above all beings I Mighty one!
When none can comprehend, and none explore;
Who fill’st existence with thyself alone:
Embracing all—supporting—ruling o’er—
Being whom we call God—and know no morel
In its snblime research, Philosophy
May measure out the ocean deep; may count
The sands or the sun's rays: but, God, for thee
There is no weight nor measure; none can mount
Up to thy mysteries. Reason’s brightest spark,
Though kindled by the light, in vain would try
To trace thy connsels, infinite and dark.
And thought is lost ere thought can soarso high,
E’en like past moments in eternity.
Thou, from primeval nothingness, didst call
First Chaos, then Existence. Lord, on thee
Eternity had its foundation all
Spring forth from thee; of Light, Joy, Harmony,
Sole origin; all life, all beanty, thine.
Thy word created all and doth create;
Thy splendor fills all space with rays divine;
Thou art, and wert, and shall be, glorious! great!
Life-giving, life-sustaining Potentate 1
Thy charms the unmeasured universe surround,
Upheld by thee, by thee inspired with breath!
Thon the beginning with the end host bound,
And beantifuliy mingled Life and Death!
As sparks mount upward from the fiery blaze.
So suns are bom, so worlds spring forth from
thee!
And, as the spangles in the sunny rays
Shine round the silver snow, the pageantry
Of heaven’s bright army glitters In thy praise.
A million torches lighted by thy band,
Wander unwearied throngh the blue abyss;
They own thy power, accomplish thy command,
All gay with life, all eloquent with bliss.
What shall we call them Piles of crystal light?
A glorious company of golden streams
Lamps of celestial ether burning bright?
Snns, lighting systems with their joyous beams,
Bnt thon, to those, act as the noon to-night.
Tea; as a drop of water in the sea,
All this magnificence in thee is lost.
What are a thousand worlds compared to thee
And what am I, when heaven’s unnumbered host,
Though multiplied by myriads, and arrayed
Is all the glory of snblimest thonght, _
Is but an atom in the balance, weighed
Against thy greatuess— is a cipher brought
Against infinity! What am 1, then Naught.
Naught I But the effluence of the light divine.
Pervading worlds, hath reached my bosom, too;
Yea, in my spirit doth thy spirit shine,
As shines the sunbeam in a drop of dew.
Naught I Bat I live, and on Hope's pinions fly,
Eager, toward thy presence; for in thee
I live, and breathe, and dwell; aspiring high,
Even to the throne of thy divinity I
I am, O God! and surely tliou must be.
Thon art I directing, guiding all, thou art.
Direct my understanding, then, to thee;
Control my spirit, guide my wandering heart.
Though but an atom ’midst immensity.
Still I am something fashioned by the hand.
I hold a middle rank, ’twixt heaven and earth,
On the last verge of mortal being stand;
Close to the realm where angels have their birth,
Just on the boundary of the spirit land.
The chain of being is complete in me;
In me Is matter’s last gradation lost,
And the next step in spirit—Deity!
I can command the lightning, and am dust;
A monarch, and a slave; a worm, a god.
Whence came I here, and how so marvellously
Constructed and conceived unknown This clod
Lives snrely throngh some higher energy;
From out Itself alone it could not be.
Creator! Yes thy wisdom and thy word
Created me. Thon source of life uud good I
Thou spirit of my spirit, and my Lord!
Thy light, thy love, in their bright plenitnde,
Filled-me with an Immortal son! to spring
Over the abyss of Death, and bade it wear
The garments of eternal day, and wing
Its heavenly flight beyond this little sphere.
Even to its source—to thee, its Author, thee.
Oh thought ineffable! Oh vision blest 1
(Though worthless oar conceptions all of thee);
Yet shall thy shadowed image till our breast,
And wait its homage to thy Deity.
God thus alone my lowly thoughts can soar;
Thus seek thy presence. Being wisejmd good,
’Midst thy vast works, admire, obey, adore;
And, when the tongue is eloquent no more.
The soul shall speak in tears of gratitude.
Angels iu the Flesh.
Angels’ visits are neither so few nor so
far between as most people pretend to con
sider them. They knock at our il jor, and
wo do not open unto them; they pass us in
the daily intercourse of life, but our eyes,
turned ever earthward, miss the comfort
and inspiration of their glance. I very sel
dom go ont that 1 do not meet them—calm
browed women whose-*1 eyes are homes of
silent prayer;” faces on which the dove
i broods visibly, natures liko tlioso “lands
towards sunrising,” warm with love and
fragrant with the incense of good deeds;
lips on which the creed of tho lieloved dis
ciple seems always trembling God is love;”
hands always ready to help the impotent
into some itethesda; feet beautiful on every
mountain of Difficulty, swift to bring good
tidings. Tho rich and happy pass them by,
but those who have watched out the night
with sorrow, and those who beg with hungry
eyes and dumb quivering lips, know them.
They look for them iu the crowd, and if
they can but touch the hem of their gar
ments they know they will be helped.
A few days ago I saw an angel’s visit on a
side street off the upper part of Broadway.
A young girl who was walking before me
stopped suddenly at the sight of three child
ren sitting on the curbstone, the eldest of
whom was crying violently.
What is the matter?” asked the yonng
girl in a gentle and sympathising tone.
"I’ve gotten the toothache, miss, an' I’m
in sair pain wi' it.”
"Poor little one!” Thoughtless of hor
pretty spring suit and dainty kid gloves sho
helped the child to her feet. Come with
me now, and I will get yon something to
ease it.” I followed slowly until I saw them
go into a druggist's, and when they came
out again the child was no longer weeping.
Now what else do you want, dear?”
"Me un' the bairns are awful hungry,
miss; there was nae meal in the house to
make parritch the morn; and mither has
gone out to gather the claithes sho washes.”
Quickly the little purse was opened and
its contents examined. I have fifty cents
I can spare; will that buy meal enough for
parritch?'
Mair than enou’, miss. Doubtless the
Lord Jesus sent you.
“Thank you, child,” she said reverently,
and smiling a Good-by,” walked thought
fully on.
I followed her, pondering much as I went
that wonderful casting ont of fear and sus
picion which true charity drives away like
an evil spirit. The suffering and the want
were titles clear on her sympathy and her
purse. Their appeal was to the divine na
ture within; and those cruel words, impo
sition and imposture, were not heard. It is
often well to give and ask no questions, as
the gentle "EUa” says: Aot a charity
sometimes. When a jMr~6reature (out
wardly and visibly sof eomes before thee

rake not into the bowels of unwelcome truth
to save a halfpenny.”
These men an women—these hangs of
God, are busy in all the streets of this great
city. I have seen them bnying the last few
newspapers from some cold and hungry
child and sending him home with a glad
heart; or taking a little child into the store
and fiUing{its hands with the cake it was
wistfully looking at through the separating
glass; and the misery which faces them
from sightless eyes, recalls too vividly the
Judean hills and the compassionate Saviour,
to be passed carelessly by. They oome upon
strange guise, that their visits make life foil
of pleasant surprises. Last Saturday night
I met one in my butcher’s shop, while I was
waiting for my small steak. He was black
with the toil and dust of machinery, he was
old and homely, and meanly dressed; and
he would have been hid from sight if a lit
little child had not come in and lifted the
veil.
How’s father to-day, PollyT’
He’s worse to-day, and mother’s down
too,” and the weary little thing began cry
ing softly to herself.
The man stooped down and said some
thing in a low voice, to which she only
shook her head and cried more hitterly.
So he took the basket from her, saying:
“Run home, Polly, or that baby, he’ll be
in mischief. I’ll bring the basket.”
She offered him twenty-five cents, but he
linrried her away and would not touch it.
Then he chose some good beef, a piece of
bacon, and plenty of vegetables, and having
paid for them, walked toward a large tene
ment house in sight. I gave him silent
reverence as he passed me, for I knew that
be was one of God's messengers, uncon
sciously, but oh! how blessedly taking a
share in the ministry of angels.—ChrisUm
Weekly.
you in such strange
The Fire Fiend.
An appropriate name this, for that cruel
monster, who, with scorching breath and a
thousand consuming tongues, ravaged and
destroyed so remorselessly the wealth, beau
ty, and happiness of a great city.
Men had at Chicago beheld the happy re
sults of toil and enterprise, and were justly
proud of their noble city. That was a fiend,
that could so regardless of human life, and
despite all effort and prayer, thus blast with
its breath and consume in its greed the pride
and dependence of so many. It had no pity
when suffering men and women cried for
mercy; it had no regard for the terror of
childhood it paused not for the feebleness
of age, but everywhere cruelly sought food
and victims. Language can never describe
a scene so awfully grand, and no mind can
conceive the accumulated horrors of those
days and nights while in the great city of
the West the fire fiend’* held sway.
We presume that some will scarce believe
that another destructive agent is working
more rapidly and with more deadly effeot in
our very midst; but it is so. A fiend more
dangerous because more silent and stealthy
in its approach. Fire comes breathing dark
Bmoke or lurid flame, and we may perceive
its course and avoid its path, or it comes
with hissing, craokling warning, and startles
us from our slumbers. Intemperance comes
unawares, or in the guiseof pleasant friend
ship seeks your presence That your child
is its victim you may not know until the vile
serpent has left hia maik upon the face of
the boy whom you love.
Fire consumes our property; intemper
ance, takes not only that, but robs its vic
tim of his very manhood, and leaves him no
ability to recover. The rained merchant or
mechanic may renew their stock and tools,
and by persevering energy repair the loss
but man robbed by alcohol of his mind and
rifCtyv has -no such opportunity. Fire, at
most, can take only life; but rum ruins
health, and brings cruel remorse to prey
upon the soul till death sends the wretched
victim—where To a place no worse at
least, than that to which he dooms himself,
who, so lost to all principle and feelings of
humanity, engages in the sale of rum.
We punish justly the inoendiaiy who jeop
ardizes the life and property of others by
setting fire to a single building. Why lees
deserving of punishment is that man who
seeks to kindle the fires of intemperance in
homes made by God as temples for the in
dwelling of His Holy Spirit.
To all noble freemen everywhere, we
ascribe all honor, and every temperance
worker who seeks the welfare of those whom
the arch fiend would destroy, deserves our
praise. Brethren iu the temperance cause,
work on and may blessings crown your labor
•of love.
Onward-—Always Onward 1
A house is made not by taking off planks
and bricks and timbers, but by building
them on. A tree gains its perfection not by
dwindling and casting off leaves, but by
growing and shooting forth. A journey is
made by forward, not by backward steps.
So, if you ever reach heaven, it will be not
in neglecting your duty, or following the
world, or allowing little or great sins. It
will be in being built up iuto Christ, grow
ing up to Christ, reaching the prize of the
race Bet before you.
To cease advancing is to cease to live; to
go backward is to perish: and even to look
back is deadly danger!
What we need in order to lie saved is such
a full conviction and fervent purpose as will
keep our thoughts and desires tending on
ward, yonward, ever onward, to eternal
righteousness and love and joy.
If you go upon your religious course with
a half conviction and a half purpose, you
cannot succeed. No man can serve two
masters. A double- minded man is unstable
in all his ways; let not that man oxpect to
receive anything from the Lord. Such a
disciple will probably lookback after he has
put his hand to the plough, and show that
he is not fit for the kingdom of God.
A poor wretch, warned of God’s hasten
ing judgment, only half believed; yet, per
suaded by her companions and urged by
pitiful angels, she commenced to flee. As
she fled, double-minded and unstable, her
unbelief and unwillingness caused her to
look back; and she perished! She stands
vet in her doom, a warning to you, O half
hearted and weak of faith!
Dear reader, will yon not seek grace to go
with a full purpose onward to glory Count
the cost, and see if your soul is not _ worth
the utmost earnestness and determination
of which you arc capable. A religion that
occupies a second or third place in a man’s
thoughts and affections, is not the religion
which God's word describes. You must
have a supreme choice, an onward purpose,
an unswerving aim, toward God and Christ
and holiness. God alone can give you this.
Oh seek his grace with oil your heart.—
Pres, and Index,
Sunday-school Teacher’s Resolu
tions.
I do solemnly resolve, that by the help of
Qod, I will carry into practice the following
dntieR and privileges:
L I will thoroughly prepare myself for
my duties, by earnest prayer and study.
2 Tim. ii. 15.
II. I will be punctual in my attendance,
and if unavoidably absent, will provide a
substitute, or give the Superintendent time
ly notice. 1 Cor. iv. 2.
III. I will be orderly myself, and will do
my best to preserve order in my class 1
Cor. xiv. 40.
IV. I will visit my scholars’, at least onoe
a month, and always in o we of sickness or
absence. Acts xv. SC.
V. I will endeavor to impress upon the
parents or guardians of my scholars the ne
cessity of their conversion, and the duty of
prayer and attendance upon pnplic worship.
Is. lii. 7.
VI. I will always strive to enforce my
teaching by my example. 1 Tim. iv. 12.
VII. I will, on every proper occasion,
speak and pray with each member of my
elaas, on the subject of permuted religion;
and my great aim and expectation shall be
the immediate conversion of my whole class,
and their subsequent Christian training.
John iii 3; 2 Cor. vL 2.
VIII. I will endeavor to "present my
body a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable onto
Goa, which* I know to be my most rea
sonable servioe. 2 Peter, ill. 8-14.—5, 8.
Teacher's Monitor.
Every Church Responsible for its
Own Children.
The habit of attending divine worship
regularly in one place should be formed in
early youth, and every Christian household
should be an unbroken circle there.
As soon as ohildren are old enough to be
instructed and form habits, they should have
a place in the house of God, and be in that
Slace regularly. Every church is responsi
le for the religious training of all the chil
dren whose parents properly belong to it
It cannot divide its responsibility with
others, and others should not interfere with
its work by encouraging ohildren to oome
to their services.
It would destroy the efficiency of a church
if its members were itinerating between
three or four denominations, and had as
much interest in them all as they do in their
own.
Stable Christian character grows best in
one fold. God plants churches where there
is work for them to do, and a part belongs
to each member. Those who come into the
church are to be instructed and built up,
and those who are without are to be brought
in and converted. Within each church is a
nursery—the Sunday-school—and this is a
part of its service. The children of the
families in the ohurch naturally, and by di
vine appointment, belong in that school.
Nothing is gained to the cause of Christ
by taking them to another school. If they
are properly instructed, by one teacher, it
is better for them to retain the instruction
thus imparted, and the impression made,
than to have them dissipated by a second
teacher two hours afterwards. The child
should be made to feel that the churoh is its
spiritual home, and all the churches may
well unite in fixing this impression upon
their children by dismissing those from
their schools that belong properly to a neigh
boring church schooL The good of the
child calls for this, and the cause of Christ
needs more labor, time, and money, to
gather in the multitudes who have no ohurch
or Sunday-school home than the churches
can give, even if they economize their
strength and do not duplicate each others
efforts.
Heai tless Criticisms.
It is the common lot of public servants to
receive gratuitous criticisms. The minister
is no exception, but is, perhaps, more sub
ject than others to the general criticisms of
the world, both ofsaiuts aud sinners. There
is no accounting for tastes. People of all
fancies, of all kinds and degrees of intelli
gence, people of culture and no culture,
adike deem it their right and privilege to ex
press their view of the minister and his ser
vices; and those who do it the most often
indulge sel (-complacency, as if they deemed
their opinion of much value, and decisive.
Many a deep impression has been effaced
1 by a thoughtless remark heard after a ser
mon. What must be the effect of such a
remark upon an awakened hearer? A young
woman was reoently deeply impressed by a
1 sermon on the need and duty of repentance,
i She felt a deep sense of her guilt, her prsyer
less and lost condition. She was distressed
in view of her sins. She was under the
strivings of the Holy Spirit. But as she
was going home she heard a professor of
i religion say: The sermon was dry to me.
I could not get interested in it.” This
thoughtless remark had a most unhappy in
fluence. It dispelled her serious impres
sions. She said to herself and to others:
"Well, if that professor of religion thought
so little of the sermon, I will not trouble
myself about it” How natural this result.
And so the Holy Spirit was resisted and
grieved away, because a thoughtless pro
lessor must gratify the evil spirit of vain
eriticism.
Is not this a subject that should be care
fully considered? The case of this young
woman is that of thousands. Oh, these sins
of the tongue, these wanton or idle speeches
against the efforts of the preacher of the
cross! They are oruel, they are deadly in
their effects. If you heard the preaching
of the gospel with a more humble and bet
ter heart, you would not be so disposed to
indulge in idle criticism, but would take de
light in deepening the impressions made by
appreciative and affectionate words of your
own.—American Messenger.
Woman In Sickness.
In no situation, and under no circum
stances, does the female character appear to
such advantage as when watching beside a
bed of sickness. The chamber of disease
may indeed be said to be the woman’s home.
We there behold her in her loveliest, most
attractive point of view—firm, without be
ing harsh; tender, yet not weak; active, yet
quiet; gentle, patient, uncomplaining, vigi
lant. Every sympathetic feeling that so
peculiarly graces the feminine character is
there called forth; while the native strength
of mind which has hitherto slumbered in
inactivity is roused to its fullest energy.
With noiseless step she moves about the
chamber of the invalid; her listening ear
ever ready to catch the slightest murmur;
her quick, kind glanoe ever ready to inter
pret the muttering wish, and supply the
half-formed want. She smooths with care
ful hand the uneasy pillow that supports
the aching head, or with oool hand soothes
the fevered brow, or proffers to the glazed
and parching lip the grateful draught, hap
py if she meets one kind glance in payment
for her labor of love.
Hers, too, is the low-whispered voice,
which breathes of life and hope, of health
in store for happy days to oume; or tells of
better and of heavenly rest, where neither
sorrow nor disease can come—where the
dark power of death shall no more have do
minion over the frail, suffering, perishing
clay. Through the dim, silent watches of
the night, when all around are hushed in
sleep, it is hers to keep lone vigils, and to
hold communion with her God, and silently
lift up her heart in fervent prayer for the
prolongation of a life for which she would
oheerfully sacrifice her own. And. even
when exhausted naturo sinks to brief re
pose, forgetfulness is denied. Even in sleep
she seems awake to this one great object of
her care. Sho starts and rises from her
slumbers, raises her head, and watches with
dreamy eyes the face she loves; then sinks
again to rest, to start with every ohime of
clock or distant sound, which formerly had
passed unheard, or only served as a lullaby
to her sweet sleep.
Tltc Gospel Message.
Rev. Mr. N. was passing through the
county of Yorkshire, on his way to London.
I His mission in that city is in an outlying
district in the midst of much wretchedness
and poverty and crime. He labors espe
cially among fallen women, and his sucoess
in reclaiming them has been among the mar
vels of the great metropolis. On his jour
ney he stopped one night at a famous house.
Supper was over. Tho old man, his wife,
and the minister sat round the blazing fire
together. A solemn silence fell upon the
I group, such as sometimes Strang* ly precedes
I the revelation which a timid wnl hesita
tingly makes. Then the mother rose from
her seat, went to a drawer, unlocked it, and,
taking out a daguerreotpe, handed to the
minister without remark. He looked it it
a moment—the face was that of a sweet
yonng maiden, fresh and fair to look upon—
then glanced inquiringly at the mother.
"It is my daughter,” said she, with trem
bling lip, “gone—lost—and yet—oh, sir 1
take with you this last memento of the one
we loved so well, and if ever, in your great
city, you see her face, go to. her, and tell
her that her old home still waits for her, and
her mother's heart still yearns for her.”
Just such. is the message which Christ
brings to us. Lost, ruined, strayed never
so far, there still comes from the cross this
word of grace Child of a Father’s love, thy
home is still open to thee, thy Father’s heart
still yearns for thee.
Whkk Albert Barnes preached before a
seminary class on their graduation, he said:
Young gentlemen, one thing never forget;
Ereach your best sermons in tlie country 1 I
ave charge of a city Church. I have noticed
that young men preaching for me, choose
their best themes and their best thinking,
because they were addressing a city congre
gation. It is a mistake. I tell them to, and
I tell you so. The mass of a city congrega
tion read little bat the daily papers; and
read and think as they live, on the ran. On
anything bat basin ess or social pleasure they
think less than they read. People in the
country read books; they have time, and
they take time to thinfc, and if yon must
make a difference, preach yonr best thoughts
in the country.—Jxn. J. Cooke.
What Good will Cease of It?
This question, so frequently asked in re
lation to infant baptism, is answered by
Bishop Marvin, in the St, Louis Christian
Advocate. He says:
Let your child know that by porehtial
authority he is committed to the service of
God; that in faith and prayer he was offered
up to the Saviour in the day of helpless in
fancy. The effect can not but be most
wholesome. If he refuse to serve God, let
him understand that he repudiates the cove
nants made for him by his father his
mother. _ The Tin baptised rfilM, if ha lives
in irreligion and out of the Church, simply
goes on in the way his life began. He fol
lows out the logic of the position his par
ents gave him. The baptized child, on the
contrary, if he live in irreligion and out of
the Church, must do so by a voluntary with
drawal of himself from the advantageous
position in which his father has plaoed him.
He is shut up to a Christian course ty po
tential authority, and he must repudiate that
or lead a Christian life. The baptism of a
child places him in a position *hai gives im
mense influence to Christian training. Up
on it is based every appeal to filial duty and
feeling in favor of ratty consecration to
God. Tell a child, at the right moment,
that his father and mother gave him to God,
and lovingly bound him by their anthority
to be a Christian, and you shall see the ef
fect it will produce.
Then it places him in a relation to the
Church which gives it great authority with
him. He feels that he is identified with it,
and committed to a life of piety and prayer.
He may not dishonor the Church. He feels
that the Church is his home, and that he is
not of the world. That is, upon the sup
position that the proper instruction has fol
lowen upon his baptism. In this relation
to the Church he is brought in the
nurture and admonition of the Lord.” Nor
can this be done in the case of the unbap
tized child who feels that he has no place
in the house of God, or with the people of
God. ’.<5-
How the Rich Fool Died.”
A New Hampshire hmu lived upon a
farm a few miles back from the village com*
taming the post-office and store. He was
noted for being a hard worker, and for being**"
“dose in hu dealings, and was supposed
to be in bat moderate circumstances. He
became unwell, and the physician, calling
upon him one day, found that the disease
had made snph progress as to render speedy
death certain. He informed his patient of
the fact, counseling him that if he had any
disposition of his property to make previ
ous to his death, to attend to it qulokly.
This announcement seemed to astound the
sick man. It was evident that he did not
know what to da Being warned again of
the brief time before him, he sent one of his
children to that born, instructing him to
bring a stocking which he would find under
a certain silL The boy did as requested,
and the father took the stocking and emp
tied it upon the bedquilt before him. It
contained gold coin. He then directed the
boy to a oorner of the attic, where he would
find another stocking. The contents of this
were poured upon the bed—it was gold. The
boy was thus sent to various {daces, till the
treasure was collected and poured in a glit
tering pile upon the counterpane. The
dying man laid his hands upon it, feeling
over the ooim. As he did not seem to real
.ize the necessity of completing his arrange
ments, the physician again said to him, “If
you have any disposition to make of this, or
If you have any directions to give your fami
ly, yon had better attend to it at once, as
your time is short.”
Still his fingers were busy with the coins,
and, though his family were dear to him,
the separation from his toil-earned treasure
seemed the more painful. Despite the re
peated urging of mends, he gave his family
no parting counsel, and made no disposition
of his property. Death overtook him with
his hands still spread over the. grid he was
forced to leave.
The incident carries its own moral—“let
not your affections be aet on things Of this
world.”—Chrittim Weekly.
How the Lord Provides.
There was, not long ago, a poor widow,
who tried haid to provide for her family by
her works. She was a pious woman, ana
had taught her children to look to their
heavenly Father as their ever-living Friend,
who sent them day by day their daily bread.
One morning, however, her faith was sorely
tried. There waa only enough food for one
meal. She gave her children their break
fast, and said sadly, as she sent them to
school, There, now you have all I can give
Sinner.” Her little boy, a duld of ton^years,
looked earnestly into his mother’s faoe, and
aaid: Mother, are you tired of trusting
God The poor widow was quite over
come her child's gentle reproof went to
her heart. She had taught him to believe
in his heavenly Father’s oare, find now he
was teaching her. She said nothing, but as
soon as her children had left the house she
went to her bedroom, and there asked for
giveness for the faithless thought Not long
after, a lady entared the house. She had
no idea of the circumstances of the family,
but unknown to herself she was the means
employed by God to answer the widow’s
prayer, and to show her the truth of that
promise, While they are yet speaking, I
will hear.” She had brought some work to
be done, and laid down the money before
hand, saying she thought they might find it
useful to have it at onoe. when the chil
dren returned from school, a comfortable
dinner waa ready for them, and from that
day they never wanted.
And art thou tired, poor, weary one, cum
bered witn many cares, art thou tired of
trusting in God Cast not away thy confi
dence, which hath great recompense of re
ward.” He who “is the same yesterday,
to-day and forever,” will yet
thou place all thy trust in Him.
The Duity Room.
A young girl was sweeping a room one
day, when she went to the window-shade
end hastily drew it down. It makes the
room so dusty,’’ she said, to hare the sun
shine coming in!”
The atoms of dust which shone golden in
the sunbeams were unseen in the dimmer
light. The untaught girl imagined it was
the sunshine which made the dost
Now, many persons imagine themselves
very good people. One poor old man, who
haa lived ail his life without a thought of
love to God, said he was all ready to die.
He didn’t owe any man a cent If the Spirit
of God should shine brightly into anoh a
heart, how would it look? It would show
them sins enough to crash them)
This light of the Spirit is like the sunshine
in the dusty room. It reveals what waa be
fore hidden. When we begin to feel un
happy about our sins, let ns never try to
Sat away the feeling. Don't let ur pat
own the curtain, and fancy there is no
dust. It is the Holy Spirit’s voice in onr
hearts. He is showing ns ourselves; and,
better still, he will show ns the trne wv of
happiness.—Selected.
Ths Good nr Dons."—A good old Dutch
lady, in Western New York, and a member
of a Presbyterian church, once inquired of
her pastor, “Do tell me, Mr. Ware, what
good it does to sprinkle a baby He re
plied, If it does no other good, it will
prevent them from joining and other church.”
Then that is it,” said she; "I never knew
before. The Baptist way is quite easy to
understand; bnt the Presbyterian way I
never could understand.” This was pre
cisely the principle of oircumeisioa, to res
trict them away from others; and precisely
the principle of infant baptism, ita substi
tute. That man, Mr. Warn understood it
better than most wilwistiw, and Wat housat,
and told th* «toc* irwA.
Bairn ass _
yatlmal was
learn them.
i