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The Finished Work.
If we stand in ihe strife ’til the end of life,
Wo shall stand at the heavenly throne.
R. Lowby.
Finished the work Thou ffavest him,
O God of love and peace ;
With eye of faith death could not dim,
He welcomed his release.
No terrors had the grave for one
So true and brave as he ;
Who, to the hour his work was done,
Put all his trust in Thee.
It mattered not to him what form
The hosts of sin assumed,
He knew that Thou their works would storm,
And that their plans were doomed.
This was the groundwork of his trust,
The strong arm of his might ;
Conquer at last he knew Thou must,
However long the fight.
With armor on, and faith sublime,
He’s fallen at his post ;
And now, Oeyond the realms of time,
Stands with the heavenly host.
Such is a fitting close of life,
To soldiers tried and true;
Who never waver in the strife,
But tight the battle through.
Sidney Herbert.
Clayton, Ala., JS'ov. 1869.
The Stream of Heath,
There is a stream whose narrow tide,
The known and unknown words divide,
Where all must go :
Its waveless waters, dark and deep,
In sullen silence downward sweep,
With moauless flow.
I saw where, at that bitter flood,
A smiling infant prattling stood,
Whose hour was come;
Untaught of ill it neared the tide,
Sank, as to cradled rest, and died,
Like going home.
Followed with languid eye, anon,
A youth, diseased, and pale, and wau, —
And there, alone,
He gazed upon the leaden stream,
And (eared to plunge:—l heard a scream,
And he was gone. «
And then a form in manhood’s strength,
Came bustlii g on, till there, at length,
He saw life’s bound :
He shrank, and raised the bitter prayer,—
Too late!—his shriek of wild despair,
The waters drowued.
Next followed to that surgeless shore,
A being bowed with many a score
Os toilsome years;
With tottering steps he neared the bank—
Back turned his dimming eyes and sank,
Ah'! full of tears.
“ How bilter must thy waters be,
O death 1 -how hard a thiug. Oh m»,
It is to die ”
I mused —when to that stream again,
Anotner child of mortal man,
With smiles drew nigh.
“’Tis the last pang,”—ho calmly said ;
“ For me, O death, thou hast uo dread ;
Saviour ! I come 1
Show but Thy face on yonder shore, —
I see I —ye waters bear me o’er, —
There is my home.”
Harvest Home.
CHAPTER VIII,
I’ve nailed my colors to the mast,
The anchor of my hope is cast;
Come life or death, come weal or woe,
I shall not change my faith below.”
After the good night scene at the foot of
the stairs, described in the last chapter, Helen
tried in vam to sleep. Her pillow was hard ;
turn it which way she would, she could not
rest upon it. This new hope of Hartly’s
meant separation from her. She thought of
it one moment with fierce anger, and the next
with bitter regret. He would live henceforth
for God—for heaven. She, for self, for the
present moment. His joys would no longer
be her joys, nor his fears her fears; and af
ter this life, what then ? Imagination dared
not finish the picture. Helen was old enough
to feel that this was a crisis in her destiny—
a time when terrible responsibility rested
upon her—when priceless interests were at
stake. Durst she trifle with them ? Be care
less and indifferent on the brink of heaven or
hell 1 ? Tread underfoot her father’s earnest
admonitions, her sainted mother’s prayers,
Hartly’s entreaties,Clara’s example? and,like
a flash of lightning came the thought, what
are all these,compared with a Saviour’s blood?
But to give up the world, before she had be
gun to taste its pleasures ; self-denial, conse
cration to God, giving up her own will, her
own plans. Must she do this—do it now ?
Morning came, with no settlement of the
vexed question.
“ W hat makes you so pale, chorie ?” asked
Mr. Montmarie, at the breakfast table; “is
my little Helen ill?”
“Oh no, papa,” she answered; “I didn’t
sleep very well, that is all.”
Her father didn’t seem very well satisfied,
but made no farther inquiries. Lucy readily
guessed the cause ot her sleeplessness, and
her petulance at her lessons, which last sur
prised Clara very much, Helen was so sel
dom cross. I cannot talk to her, thought
Lucy- She would be angry, or cold ; but 1
can pray for her. And she did, most fer
vently. Meantime, God was leading Helen
by a way she knew not. No two Christian
experiences are alike; but all include a view
of Sinai and of Calvary. The struggle main
tained in Helen’s heart, where pride and self
will led the forces of hell, was obstinate and
fierce. It almost wore her out, but the end
was peace.
“ God giveth us the victory,” said her father
as, smiling through his tears, told him the
story, sitting on his knee.
What a prayer of thanksgiving went up
from that family altar,or, rather, what prayers
—there was no heart that did not send up its
joyful offering —one lovely Sabbath evening,
just alter the conversation mentioned above.
How sweetly the hymn sounded : “Jesus, I
my cross have taken,” sung with such warm
resolve in every cadence—such anew mean
ing. Yes, such occasions are foretastes of
heaven. The light on those upturned faces
surely streamed from Paradies itself.
“ How cruelly 1 treated you that night,
Hartly !” said Helen, afterwards. “I am
ashamed to think of it. But nothing ever
had such an effect upon me as your words
just then; but for that, I might even have
forgotten mama’s prayers.”
“ Perhaps she was praying for you then,
Nellie. Who will write the good news to
Montie ? It is your turn, Lucy. You must
do it to morrow.”
So the next day Lucy seated herself, with
her writing desk, on a deep, old-fashioned
window-sill, just outside. A honeysuckle,
still blooming, shook its fragrant clusters in
the morning air, and the following is the let
ter she accomplished:
“ Dear Emile —How I wish you had been
here in the last two weeks. We have all
said this a hundred times a day. It would
have beeu hard enough to do without you, if
there had been no special reason for wishing
to have you here; but there has been one.
Clara wrote to you about Hartly. He came to
w alk w itn us one afternoon, so quiet we would
have thought him ill. You know he is al
ways play mg tricks on us ; running races with
Punto, or in some kind of mischief; but he
looked perfectly well, —Clara and Helen both
said, so much like your mother. Hartly told
FRANKLIN PRINTING HOUSE, ATLANTA, GA., THURSDAY, NOYEMRER 18, 1869.
them he almost thought she had been with
him. I asked if that made him look so
pleased, though 1 was half afraid to ask him.
He said, ‘No, Lucy, something better still.
I have found Jesus.’ Clara was so delighted,
you can’t think; but Helen never said a word.
Hartly wanted to talk with her, but she
wouldn’t. I knew she was trying to hide
what she felt—knew she was troubled all that
week. Nothing seemed to go right, till at
last, she says, she gave up her own way, to
be happy in God’s way. Oh, we are so very,
very glad. It seemed so hard for her to give up
caring most for fancy balls and masquerades,
and having a nice time when she is a young
lady. You know Helen already knows how
to dress so prettily, and dances so well, and
she will have such elegant things when she is
old enough to go out with Clara. She felt as if
she never could care more for making clothes
for old women or teaching poor children, than
for these; but she thinks now, she can try to
do whatever seems her duty, and God will
make her willing.
“ I had a great deal else to tell you, but
there is scarcely room, without making my
letter very long; and this is what you will
like to hear. Selim will let no one else ride
him since you are gone. The servants think
he misses you too. There has been a picnic,
the last of the season, at La Fontaine qui
bouille. Everybody we like was there.
That tiresome Mr. Drummond, with his light
hair, light eyebrows and light moustache, was
persecuting Clara. Oh, : Etnile ! lam afraid
that is gossip and slander too. I will stop.
Do not forget your poor friend,
Lucie.”
The letter was finished hastily, in order to
dress for a visit to town. Clara had some
shopping to do. There was anew pair of
horses to try, which Mr. Montmarie, after
thoroughly testing their character himself,
consented to trust to Hartly’s guidance. A
rapid drive of five miles, over a fine turnpike,
in the bracing autumn air, brought the blood
tingling to their cheeks. St. Clair street, the
principal promenade of the city, was thronged.
Elegant toilets, bright faces, gay voices, coun
ters heaped with the rich, bright-colored fab
rics, suitable lor winter wear, made it a very
brilliant as well as animated thoroughfare.
The Monkmaries could not mingle in such a
scene unnoticed. The handsome equippage,
with the very striking appearance of its in
mates, could not fail to attract attention. All
but Lucy were quite at their ease, however.
She had been left until now, in the seclusion
she had coveted since the death of her parents ;
and this was the first time she had been
exposed to the gaze of strangers, except at
church. Her account of the pic-nic, to Emile,
was drawn from Hartly’s and Helen’s vivid
description, who never failed to give her a
complete history of the affair when they at
tended themselves. Her lameness and deep
mourning, she felt as the occasion of many
an enquiring glance, and whispered comment,
sometimes erroneously, too, for the first, if
she could have forgotten it herself, was scarce
ly less observable; and the last K being deci
dedly becoming, was more calculated to ex
cite admiration than curiosity. As they
continued their excursion, however, this un
comfortable feeling of being conspicueus, be
gan to subside, and as Mr. Montmarie had
said, when kindly forcing her to go, the nov
elty and excitement began to make it inter
esting. But for fear of rendering this chap
ter too long, we will i serve for the present,
the account of what happened further.
[To be Continued.)
Worldly Conformity.—l.
As I am one of those who believe there is
an alarming tendency in the Christian com
munity to a spirit of worldly conformity,
and that from this catise the interests of true
godliness are seriously endangered, I beg
leave to invite the attention of our brethren
to the following views on this subject:
W hen the Apostle says, “Be not conformed
to this world,” he cannot be supposed to mean
no more than that Christians should not be
liars, drunkards, and such like. The contra
ry of this? is sufficiently evident from the an
tithesis contained in his language, “ Be not
conformed to this world,” he says, “ but be
ye transformed by the renewing of your
mind, that ye may prove what is that good,
and acceptable, and perfect will of God.”
We are then conformed to the world, unless,
through the transforming power of His grace
we do the “will of God.” He acts with the
world who does not act with Christ. What,
then, is the sense of the inhibitory injunction
contained in this Apostolical canon?
This question will not be settled by a sim
ple statement of general terms, without at
taching to them any definite sense. While
one disputant condemns asceticism, and an
other worldly conformity, each affirms what
neither denies, and nothing is gained to the
argument. The question, What is asceticism ?
or worldly couformity ? remains untouched,
and the reason exists in overlooking the im
portant fact, that the conduct of moral agents,
that of Christians as well as others, takes its
moral complexion, to a great extent, from
circumstances. Indeed, lam of opinion that
the language of th% Apostle applies not so
much to auy specific form of action, prevail-
ing in the world, as to the spirit by which
the world is actuated, and therefore, that
some practices are right or wrong, according
to the motives of those who engage in them ; in
other words, the worldliness in such cases
does not exist; at least, not exclusively, or
necessarily, in the nature of the action, but
in the spirit of the actor; while others are
absolutely forbidden, as being in their nature,
inseparable from a worldly and sinful spirit,
it is therefore necessary, by a definition of
terms, to establish some general principles,
by an application of which to particular cases,
we may determine their moral character. For
this purpose I submit the following princi
ples, which will, I think, be admitted as un
exceptionable :
1. Any pleasure or conduct is a species of
worldly conformity, and as such, sinful—on
which we cannot, with a good conscience, ask
the blessing of God; and for the enjoyment
of which we cannot return Him our sincere
thanks.
2. Any practice is a species of worldly
conformity, which disqualifies us for religious
duty ; as, for example, for prayer, reading
the Bible, and those spiritual services which
are the means of communion with God.
3. Whatever debauches our spiritual taste,
and impairs the purity of the heart, is a spe
cies of sinful conformity to the world.
These principles are all comprehended in
that one general maxim of the Apostle—
“ Whether ye eat or drink, or whatsoever ye
do, do alt to the glory of God ;” and a vio
lation of any one of these principles, is
equally a violation of this general precept.
Without the necessity for further specifica
tions, it will be admitted, I think, that any
conduct or practice, of which either of those
now stated is properly predicable, is an ex
ample of the worldly conformity which is the
subject of the Apostle’s prohibition.
General principles are valuable only as they
comprehend particular cases; and the enun
ciation of those I have now stated would be
to l tile purpose did they not apply to prac
tical evils existing among us. They admit,
indeed, of extensive application, but 1 shall
employ them now only with a yiew to an
examination of the Scriptural morality of the
three following pra itices, those name, > : Os
Dancing, Os Card Playing and Os Attei.dinj
the Theatre. That many professing Christians
of our day are addicted to these practice, is a
matter of such notoriety as to require no
proof.
The first of the principles I have propound
ed, and which substantially comprehends all
the rest, is the following : Any pleasure is a
- species of worldly conformity, and as suck,
sinful, on which we cannot with a good con
science, ask the blessing of God ; and for the
enjoyment of which we cannot return Him our
sincere thanks.
Thougb,l suppose this principle will be ad
mitted, it may serve to enhance our sense of
its importance, if we submit some remarks in
exposition of its nature.
The benevolent Author of our being has,
in our creation, endowed us with certain fac
ulties, both physical and moral, which He de
signed as the sources of our happiness ; and
in the economy of nature He has adapted
certain correlative objects to the gratification
of these faculties. The proper direction of
our faculties to these appropriate objects con
stitutes our happiness. Their perversion to
other unlawful objects, or to those lawful in
themselves, beyond the extent that they meet
the requirements of our nature, and thus be
come harmful, constitutes our sin and misery.
Os those objects which properly constitute
the sources of our happiness, two things may
be observed : first, they are felt to be bless
ings ; and secondly, their enjoyment leads us
directly to God. The food which gratifies
our taste and nourishes our body, as well as
the friends we love, each, of its kind, affords
us happiness. They supply an enjoyment
which our nature claims, and which is neces
sary to its sustenance and well being. They
are the means of developing our susceptibili
ty to happiness, and interesting that suscept
ibility with its proper objects. In a being of
unfallen rectitude the law of nature and the
law of God are identical, for the law of God
is interwoven with the constitution of his na
ture. But in one, the foundation of whose mor
al character has been subverted, the law, not so
properly of nature, as of his nature, will be
found at variance with the law of God; and
the design, of God’s revealed law is to con
trol its action to its course of original recti
tude. From this cause our nature no longer
directs us in the course which is necessary to
our happiness, because our understanding be
ing darkened, we no longer retain a true
knowledge of the laws of our nature, as they
were ordained by our Creator ; and more es
pecially because, even when we know what
is right, corrupt passion prevails with us to
do what is wrong. lam not certain, howev
er, that the latter statement is correct; at
least, in the same sense as the former: for
the law of His nature, strictly speaking,
teaches no being to injure himself, more than
it does a father, instead of loving, to murder
his children ; and in doing so no being can be
happy. Theglutton, or inebriate, who knows
that his excesses will bring him more paiu
than pleasure, not only because of the phys
ical injury he will suffer, but still more on
account of the criminality he incurs, can
hardly be said, indeed, in an important sense
cannot be said, to act in obedience to the laws
of his nature. He is not so much the pupil
as the slave of passion. His conduct is not
so properly the effect of obedienoe as of a
criminal subjection to an irresistible tyranny,
the subjection more criminal because the tyr
anny is iiresistible. He, too, who prospers
by fraud and extortion knows he would be
more happy by the practice of justice and
humanity; and though he persists in his
wicked course, he dares not utter the blasphe
my of returning thanks to God for the gains
of injustice and robbery. There is an outcry
in his moral nature against his course. He
feels that he is dishonoring and maltreating
his conscience, and that ip murdering that, he
is murdering his own soul.
Again, the pleasures which are true bless
ings lead the soul directly to God, their au
thor. It is not until man possesses himself
ot forbidden enjoyment that he seeks, from
self-reproach and shame, to hide himself from
his Maker. The benefits God bestows, as
they display His goodness and exalt His
bounty, so they introduce us into His pres
ence, evoking our grateful acknowledgements
and our songs of praise. The name of God
embalms them with a sanitive virtue, and
they are perfumed with His goodness. They
are as so many leaves plucked from the tree
of life, to medicate our diseases, heal our sor
rows, and refresh and invigorate our spirits.
Upon these benefits we can ask the sanctify
ing blessing of God, and for their enjoyment
we can return Him our thanks.
If then, we cannot ask God’s blessing upon
any enjoyment, it is a certain sign that there
is an antagonism in our nature against the
reception of such a pleasure, as an alien and
deleterious element, not adapted to harmonize
with the principles and functions of our mor
al constitution. It is, in other words, a proof
that our conscience warns us that such a pleas
ure is neither beneficial to ourselves or pleas
ing to God, and is therefore a SIN.
I have supposed that the principle I have
stated will be readily admitted. It is possible,
however, that it may be regarded as liable
to an objection of the following kind :
It is not to be supposed—it may be said—
that we shall formally invoke the blessing of
God upon every pleasure we may enjoy, or
return special thanks for every such enjoy
ment. A general spirit of grateful acknowl
edgements is all that can be expected, or is
required in such a case.
To this I reply : Whether or not special
prayer and thanksgiving can accompany every
pleasurable act, they may at least be associa
ted with engagements, to which, with delibe
ration, and of design, the actors devote them
selves through the prolonged scenes of noc
turnal enjoyment. They are not so casual
and incidental as not to admit of reflection
and purpose; so the objection is but an
evasion.
Again, I reply : The point of the argu
ment is involved in the question, not wheth
er we fail, in no case, to ask God’s blessing
upon our enjoyments, as not being the sub
ject of a distinct mental act,or from the want
of such perfect spirituality, as—like the stom
ach with its food—derives, unconsciously, nu
triment from all our enjoyments, and trans
mutes them into forms of life ? but whether,
when the matter becomes a subject of reflec
tion, this is what we can do? 1 believe not
a single innocent amusement can be named—
if indeed any mere amusement, irrespective
of ail benefit, as its proper end is innocent —
which will not abide this test. Itisa blessing—
not merely an enjoyment, but a blessing —and
will be felt to be a blessing. It is what our
benevolent Father has kindly designed for
the gratification of our lawful appetite; as
much so as he has food to please our taste,
the landscape to gratify our eye, and the rose
to regale our sense. They all exalt our con
ceptions of the munificence of His wisdom
and His goodness. W. H. J.
Oxford , N. C.
Clerical Controversy. —Walter Savage
Landor, in one of his essays, proposes a Gal
lery of Heroes, but stipulates that the clergy
shall be left out, as of too savage a type to
appear in a list of gallant fighters.
ReinoTAl of Mercer University, No. 8.
I have heard it more than hinted, that if
some brethren, not now connected with the
Faculty of Mercer, were members of the
corps of teachers, the Institution would at
once revive and flourish. This is merely an
Opinion ; and it is based more on persoual
predilection than upon any evidence. Faets
intimate to us pretty plainly that additions
to the Faculty, however excellent, do not add
much to the number of the students. In the
fall term of 1865, (the first after the close of
the war,) there were about 70 students in at
tendance at Mercer. At the present session
I learn that there are not exceeding 70 stu
dents. During the four years which have
elapsed, a President and Professor of Belles
Lettres have been added to the Faculty, and
the material condition of the State in 1869
is far more favorable than iu 1865 ; and yet
there are no more students in attendance now
than there were when Professors Sanford,
Willet and Woodrin comprised the whole
Faculty. Os the competency of the added
teachers there is no ‘question in any impartial
mind; and yet their accession brings no ad
dition to the number of undergraduates. This
seems to justify the \?L non that further ad
ditions to the Faculty will not lift the Insti
tution from its depression.
It has been repeat&ily said that the College
has been damaged by the efforts which have
been made, since the war, to procure a change
of location. But we have seen that when the
Faculty embraced men of acknowledged
power, and when the country was prosper
ous, and when there was but little said about
removal, the number of graduates (from ’47
to ’54) did not average ten per annum. If
the agitation of the removal question dobs
all the mischief, why was there not a higher
prosperity in the absence of this agitation,
and in the presence of the propitious circum
stances to which I have referred ? Why, with
an unexceptionable Faculty, and an ample in
come, and large material prosperity, did the
Institution produce smih mere skeletons of
classes? I disagree entirely with those wor
thy brethren who aserfbe the ills complained
of to the cause alleged. Why should a dis
cussion about a more eligible site for the Col
lege curtail its patronage ? If the young
gentlemen who matriculate at the College
were under the necessity of making some pe
cuniary investment in Penfield whose value
would depend on the permanency of the In
stitution there, I could "understand why they
would be unwilling to make such an adven
ture on an uncertaintyy>*nd therefore decline
matriculation. If the discussion about re
moval so disturbed the minds of the Profes
sors as to disqualify the m from teaching, <or
so harrassed the minds of the students as to
unfit.them for the acqu‘ ition of knowledge,
l could then see how sue i agitation would re
duce the patronage. If*o talk of a different
locality impaired the be.dth of the present
position, or exerted upon it some injurious
moral influence, the reas n assigned by those
who cry out against discussion, would solve
the whole, difficulty. Bui who believes that
any such results follow? Why should auy
young man be deterred from going to Mercer
because the question of >:emoving it to an
other locality is under and bate ? Can he not
pursue his studies as successfully, and be just
as faithfully taught by tit,-, same .men in pne
place as in a.nother|
Mercer University, at m rietta, or Macon,
just as good as a diploma from Penfield?
Would not the public be quite as likely to
know of the existence of such places as Ma
rietta and Macon as of Penfield or Wood
ville ? Or if his attachment to Mercer Uni
versity be due to the fact that it is located in
Penfield, in the county of Greene, uearly
equidistant from Union Point, and Greens
boro, and Bairdstown, and about four miles
from Woodville, it will surely be time enough
for him to abandon the Institution when the
location is actually changed.
THE REAL SOURCES OF THE DIFFICULTY.
Having shown, I think, that the unsatisfac
tory condition of Mercer is not owing to any
want of efficiency in the Faculty, nor to the
limited field from which patronage must be
derived, nor to the want of material prosper
ity in the State, nor to the discussion in re
gard to change of location, I proceed to con
sider what are the real sources of the evil
complained of. I say sources, became I do
not believe that any one cause covers the
entire ground.
I have said that our University has never,
at any time, united the whole denomination
in its support. It is not probable that it ever
will, locate where you may, and offer what
advantages you may. There are many Bap
tists who do not believe that any obligations,
ecclesiastical or moral, require them to pat
ronize an Institution for teaching secular
knowledge merely because it has been found
ed by Baptists, and is controlled by Baptist
influence. They are averse to what they call
“sectarian colleges,” (though I think the
phrase improper—since no sectarianism is
taught in the literary department at Mercer;)
and they think that for the purposes of com
mon education the citizens of the State should
unite, irrespective of creed or party. Acting
on this conviction, they have sent their sons
and wards to those colleges which offered, in
thei r view, the best advantages, without any
regard to the claims of their own denomina
tion. There are no doubt, to-day, scores of
students from Baptist families, at Athens and
elsewhere, Because of this conyction. These
Baptists do not send their &>ns to Athens
because there are Baptist Professors there, as
has been alleged, (though there may be iso
lated cases in which this reason holds,) they
would send them there though there were no
Baptists at all in the board of instruction.
From 1835 to 1848, a period of 13 years,
there was no member of a Baptist church
connected with the Faculty ot the State Uni
versity ; and yet it is believed that during
this period about one-third of the whole num
ber of students was from Baptist tamilies—
thus demonstrating that Baptist Professors
did not attract the patronage of Baptists. If
the excellent brethren of our denomination
who now fill chairs at Athens, should be su
perseded by Presbyterians or Methodists, the
College would suffer no material reduction of
patronage from the ranks of Baptists. Many
years ago, Dr. J. H. Thornwell, late Profes
sor in th* Presbyterian Theological Seminary,
at Columbia, S. C., and one of the strongest
men in his church, wrote an elaborate article,
in which he took ground against all denomi
national colleges for merely literary objects,
and contended that citizens of the State should,
for such aims, meet on common ground. It
is known that some Baptists hold the same
faith. Their works accord ; and the result is
a loss to the schools of their own denomina
tion. The only remedy 1 see for this evil, is
to change the convictions of these brethren.
It happens too that while many Baptists
decidedly prefer their own institutions, their
sons (who are not pious young men) have no
such predilections. The influence of the pa
rent, sternly exerted, might enter them at
Mercer. But there are many parents who,
when their sons attain the age of sixteen or
eighteen, are disposed to relax their author
ity ; and, where no principle is involved, to
yield to the wishes of their sons. These
young gentlemen, being worldly, and desiring
entertainments and society in connection with
their literary instruction, elect that college
which is most inviting in these particulars,
without any regard to the question of denom
inational influence. Their amiable fathers
yield to their wishes ; and as they do not find
the advantages sought in Penfield they go
elsewhere.
It is also true that where these sons are
pious youDg men, and members of Baptist
churches, they often prefer other institutions
to Mercer. As they do not go to college to
learn religion, they contend that they are at
liberty to seek what they believe to be the
best literary advantages, unrestrained by their
religious obligations. A year or two ago,
several young men, members of the same
Baptist church, left home for college; two of
the number went to Penfield ; the rest con
nected themselves with other colleges. After
a brief sojourn at Penfield, the two withdrew
and joined their comrades, in another institu
tion. These brethren, Baptists, and sons of
Baptists, were anxious to patronize their own
College; they had no fault to find with the
Professors, but—they did not stay. The rea
son leads me to consider another cause of the
depression of Mercer. But this I shall re
serve for another paper—having readied the
limits prescribed for myself in these com mu
Vocations. Georgia.
P. S.—ln my last article, your Printer
made me say that “ from 1847 to 1858 (both
inclusive) the average number of graduates
did not exceed ten per annum.” I wrote from
1847 to 1854, intending to cover the eight
years during which Drs. Dagg, Crawlord,
Mell and Hillyer were in office. G.
Divine Sovereignty.
Old as I am, more light will burst in on
me sometimes. For years have I been sim
ple enough to believe that Baptists—Free
wills excepted—held as elevated views of the
Divine Sovereignty as any other people
whatever. Judge of my surprise, then, when,
on a recent day, a Methodist laid claim to
superiority over us in this particular. My
surprise was as great as that of Pascal on
discovering the difference between the Jan
senists and Jesuits. For a time it was hard
for me to tell what course to take. And now
that I have somewhat recovered, I will attempt
to tell you the position taken by my Meth
odist friend, and then give you some of my
notions about it. If my views be not cor
rect, I beg you to set me right. Have we
not permission to ask our Index brother to
help us out of difficulties?
My Methodist friend said he honored the
Sovereignty of God more than we did, be
cause he conceived of Him as being so great
—so transcendently above all created things
—that He could maintain His sovereignty
inviolate, and at the same time leave men to
act in sovereignty in the matter of their sal
vation. This, as I understood him* is the
proposition of my friend, Upon this propo
sition 1 offer the following observations:
1. The most exalted honor is here, seem
ingly, offered to God. It is, however, a mere
honorary distinction. God is only placed so
high, in name, that man may be permitted to
reign. If no plan can ,be formed for man
to be exalted to such a height, then, accord
ing;to Armenian theology,God is an,Almighty
Despot. This is a strong expression; but
d 9 not, men tel) ,**<» 'hr.i- :fV»od'- makc-a destine 1
tions among men respecting salvation, that
He cannot be just? If He be Almighty and
unjust, is He not a Despot?
2. If absolute sovereignty, in respect to
salvation, be in man’s possession, then it is
not in God’s hands at the same time. God
may have sovereignty in all else save this,
but in this He has abdicated His right in
matJ« favor. Here is a creature, then, so
weak that God has to uphold him at every
moment of his existence—so wicked that
Satan is his father—and yet, according to
this theory, such a creature is a sovereign, as
to his salvation!
3. If man had the right or power, imputed
to him in this theory, he would most mani
festly exercise it all in refusing God’s salva
tion. Make man the superior of Jehovah, in
power, and he would cast out the Occupant
of the eternal throne, reign himself, and turn
the universe into a hell! His pride, ambi
tion and corruption could end in nothing short
of this. Will a heart, full of hatred to God,
ever submit to Him, even were that heart
possessed of full power to do so?
4. Sovereignty is above all law, save such
as it makes for itHft. Man is under law—
law that he hates, and complains of perpetu
ally. How, then, can man be sovereign ?
5. If it is contended that merely in the
matter of accepting or rejecting salvation man
is sovereign; it is replied, first: In all Chris
tian experience it is a fact that salvation is
not accepted as long as the sinner can do any
thing else. He first resists the impressions
of the Spirit till he is overcome. He then
betakes himself to the deeds of the law till
he utterly despairs of life, and then, when he
can do nothing more, God, in sovereignty
saves him. Secondly: If man, acting in
sovereignty, were to take salvation for him
self, this act would be a work —a work done
for salvation. This contradicts the gospel.
Eternal life is a gift. If it be a gift, the
receiver cannot merit, or have a right to it,
because the gift would not be a gift, but a
reward to the extent of the merit, or to the
extent of the labor done.
6. Were man sovereign in the salvation of
his soul, then he might appoint a day, or an
hour, so far as I can see, when he would take
for himself such a boundless blessing. And
no believer of the Bible would die in sin,
unless he died suddenly. Still we see young
and old dying—gradually dying—without
obtaining salvation. If men can, at any time
regenerate themselves—this is what must be
done by them or for them before they can be
saved—they deserve, in the language of Gill,
to be doubly damned, if they turn not to God
at once.
In conclusion: “The Lord God Omnipo
tent reigneth.” Blessed be His name forever
and ever. He reigned before creation existed,
if we can imagine when that was. He reigued
in creation, making what He saw fit to make,
and as He chose to make it. He had no
counsellor. He needed none. He alone was
God. In providence God reigns. He pro
tects or destroys. Here He rears a nation,
surrounding it with a wall of protection, or
he sends desolation upon it till its very name
is lost. In salvation God, and not man, is
sovereign. All men merit everla-ting ban
ishment from God >nd heaven. He choses
to give to some of them life, having ordained
them to such blessedness before the world
began. Such is the teaching of the Bible.
If lain asked how man can be responsible
while he is wholly in the hands of God, and
can only act as he is acted on? my reply is,
God can understand this mystery, though
man cannot. In His hands let it be left.
God’s purposes may be secret, but His com
mads are plain. To these commands our at
tention is to be directed. If God gives us
grace to obey them, then the glory be His
forever. If He suffer us to go on in sin and
perish, the fault is ours, and we deserve the
fate of God’s enemies. If we are saved, it
is of sovereign mercy, and the last thing we
deserve. If we are lost, we purchase hell
with our works, and hell is the best thing we
deserve.
Protracted Meetings.
The following reasons for continuing and
perpetuating these means of grace and instru
mentalities for the maintenance and extension
of the gospel, are prayerfully urged upou the
consideration of all unprejudiced minds, who
love the truth, think the truth, and act the
truth :
1. They are the means of drawing public
attention more particularly to the church, so
that many in the community, and often at a
distance, who are not in the habit of attending
church, and some, who have not attended for
years, are frequently brought under the influ
ence of the Word of God and the Holy Spirit,
whereby they are converted,
2. They are very often the means of luke
warm and back-sliden churches becoming re
vived and restored to the enjoyment of re
ligion.
3. They very frequently put the church in
a favorable position for adjusting difficulties,
and enforcing its discipline without producing
variance and division.
4. They divest the church of the formality
and rr. erve, which will certainly grow up in
every church that only meet together statedly,
and the pastor, membership and congrega
tion, become better acquainted, and harmo
nious, neighborly, friendly and social feelings
spring up and unite the community.
5. It enables the pastor to form a more
intimate acquaintance with his ministerial
brethren—their piety, gifts and usefulness,
whereby he is often stimulated to “covet ear
nestly the best gift?,” and “study to show
himself approved unto God a workman that
needeth not to be ashamed.”
6. Thousands, who are now burning and
shining lights in the church of God, date their
conviction, conversion or membership, from
one of these meetings; and without them,
the Missionary Baptist Churcii >. >uld proba
bly be as inefficient as some churches that are
opposed to Protracted Mettings.
And now 1 say unto you, who oppose these
meetings, “ Refrain from- these men, and let
them alone; for if this counsel or this work
be of men, it will come to nought; but if it
be of God, ye cannot overthrow it; lest hap
ly ye be found even to fight against God.”
An Elder.
Recollections.
Young men now look forward; old men
lookback. While “A Layman,” and others,
are discussing protracted meetings, 1 will give
my first recollections of them.
In doing this, 1 must make mention of the
first religious newspaper I ever saw. About
the year 1830, a brother Collins passed
through East Tennessee, and my two broth
ers, C. Taliaferro and R. H. Taliaferro, sub
scribed jointly for the Religious Herald, then
edited by Ball and Sands. A religious paper
was then and there a great curiosity, and was
read and loaned till it was worn out. I was
not then a member of the church, and I rever
enced the Herald almost like the Bible.
From 1830 to 1832, the greatest sensation
in the Herald was the results of a series of
meetings held in Virginia, called “Four
Days’ Meetings,” so called because they were
held just four days. The common meetings
which had existed from the first settlement
of the country, were called “Two Days’
Meetings.” The four days’ meetings, was
hailed,#* a decided C pos the
old, sfow-coaoh, two days’ meetings. The
four days’ meetings were conducted precisely
as the more meetings, on
ly they did not last so long —a four days’
schedule.
My two brothers were so carried away with
the success ot the Virginia four days’ meet
ings, that they determined to try one in Ten
nessee. Due notice was given, that a “ four
days’ meeting” would be held with Prospect
Baptist church, Roan county, Tennessee, be
■ginning on Friday before the Sabbath in
July, 1832. The thing was new to every
body, and the people came from the Dan to
the Beersheba of the whole country, to see
the new invention. I, too, was there; then
a young member, anxious for the success of
the new schedule. The meeting was consid
ered a great success, and almost every church
in the country must have a four days’ meet
ing. The work spread throughout the whole
region round about.
It was but natural for the protracted meet
ing to grow out of the four days’ meetings.
A four days’ meeting would not more than
get up a good head of steam ; other days —
indefinite in number—were added, so that no
steam should be needlessly lost. The same
schedule of machinery was run by both ; one
definite as to time, the other indefinite—
sometimes called “a series of meetings.”
The practice of “calling up mourners,” is
older than either of these meetings. I should
like to know its history. Who will give it?
Can any one? If it were in the Bible, any
one could give it.
It must not be understood that I have given
the origin of these meetings—only my first
recollections of them. Nor let no one infer
that I do not believe that great good has been
done at them. That is not the question.
Are they Scriptural ? Have they done more
good than harm ? These are the questions.
I am not now discussing these questions, only
contributing a mite of history bearing on
the questions. H. E. T.
“Follow Me.”
The Master’s vo.ce was sweet:
“ I gave my life for thee ;
Bear thou tnis cross through pain and loss;
Arise and follow me.”
I clasped it i umy hands:
0 Thou who diedst for me.
The day is bright, my step is light,
’Tis sweet to follow Thee!
Through the long summer day
I followed lovingly ;
’Twas bliss to hear His voice so near,
His glorious face to see.
Down where the lilies pale
Fringed the bright river’s brim,
In pastures green His steps were seen—
’Twas sweet to follow Him.
Oh, sweet to follow Him !
“Lord, let us-here abide.”
The flowers were fair, I lingered there;
I laid His cross aside.
I saw his face no more
By that bright river’s brim ;
Before me lay the desert way—
’Twas hard to follow him.
Yes, hard to follow Him
Into that dreary land:
I was alone: His cross had grown
Too heavy for my hand.
I heard His voice afar
Sound through the night air chill;
My weary feet refused to meet
His coming o'er the hill.
The Master’s voice was sad:
“ I gave my life for thee;
I bore the cross through pain and loss;
Thou hast not followed me.”
“ So fair the lilied bunks,
So bleak the desert wav ;
The night was dark, I could not mark
Where Thy blest footsteps lay.”
Fairer the lilied batiks,
Softer the grassy lea.
The eudless rest of those who best
Have learned to follow me!
Cans! thou not follow me,
All weary as thou art?
Hath patieut love no power to move
Thy slaw and faithless heart?
Wilt thou not follow me?
These weary feet of mine
Have stained ted the pathway dread
In search for thee and thine.”
0 Lord, 0 Love Divine,
Once more I follow Thee!
Let ine abide so near Thy side
That I Tby face may see.
I clasp Thy pierced bund,
0 Thou that diedst for me;
I’ll bear Tby cross through pain and loss,
So I may cling to Thee.
—Family Trsatvry.
WHOLE NO. 2465.
The Drunkard.
Very few persons would be willing to marry
a habitual drunkard ; but it is not generally
known what a great risk is run in marrying
the son or daughter of a habitual drunkard,
although they themselves are strictly tem
perate from high moral principle ; indeed, it
is not an uncommon thing to And the children
of beastly drunkards the very models of tem
perance, from having had before their own
eyes, for years in succession, the terrible evils
of habitual inebriation.
It is one of the indisputable facts in phisi
ology, and the observations of intelligent
men confirm the truth, that certain diseases
and taints of body, and taints of mind are
transmitted from father to son. So well and
firmly is this impression fixed on the minds
of men, that when a man becomes insane,
one of the very first efforts is to endeavor to
ascertain if it is not “ in the family,” and it is
comparatively seldom that such is not proved
to be the case.
Another important fact is, that hereditary
traits and taints sometimes overleap a gen
eration ; arising most probably from the fact
that one parent has extraordinary good health,
sufficiently vigorous to stave off the malady
for a lime ; but the seed of the malady is in
the immediate descendant for all that, and to
the extent, that if the grandchild marries one
who similar taint, the offsgring devel
opes the characteristics of the grandparents.
Drunkenness is a transmissible malady,
because anatomical investigations demonstrate
that the brain of a drunkard, after a compar
atively few indulgences, becomes organically
impaired, and wb"n that is the case, it is just
as impossible to repair the injury as to have a
new finger grow in the place of one which
has been removed. Surely no stronger ap
peal can be made to a man’s intelligence, to
his honor, and to his humanity, to practice
temperanoe in the use of all intoxicating
drinks.
Asa proof of the argument made, it may
be sufficient to say in geueral terms, that ob
servation shows, that, in any number of
drunkards, about one-third become so through
social influences, the remaining two thirds
from hereditary influences. More than half
of the first class are reclaimed, but to recov
er men from intemperate habits, who have
become so from hereditary influences, is al
most impossible, even although they may have
had a Christian education, and the early in
stillment of strictly temperance principles.
Let the reader who can, thank God that he
has not had the curse of an intemperate pa
rent, and let him pray daily, with consistent
action, that he may never be permitted to fall
into so great a crime as that of being an in
temperate parent himself. Nor ought a man
who has been a drunkard, to allow himself to
marry and become the father of children, for
they are very certain either to inherit his
vice, or to have implanted in their constitu
tions the seeds of insidious diseases. To be
safe from these calamities and crimes, there
is only one safe plan—never taste a drop of
the accursed thing. Hall's Journal of
Health .
Infidelitt (?) —Some fifty years ago, an
Orthodox Congregational minister, of Read
ing, Mass., warned his hearers that “tojoin
the Baptists was the first step to infidelity.”
“ Forms.”—A correspondent of the Watch
man and Reflector writes : In a conversation
not long since, on the subject of baptism,
with a member of a Pedobaptist church, re
spectable for age and general intelligence, we
were plied with the common question,—“Do
you regard baptism as a saving ordinance?”
“Certainly not,” was the reply. “Why,
then,” it was pertly responded, “do you make
such an ado about it?” Do our Pedobaptist
friends regard the communion, and commun
ion loith and in Baptist churches, essential to
Christian union, to all Christian graces, to
salvation ? It will be answered “No.” May
we not then retort, “ Why make such an ado
about it ?” ’Tis only an outward sign—a
mere form.
Going Backward. —lt is a remarkable fact
that in the first Prayer Book adopted by the
American Episcopal Church, the Convention,
presided over by the venerable Bishop White,
omitted, in the office of baptism, the words,
“hath pleased thee to regenerate this infant
by thy Holy Spirit.” It was subsequently
put back, to be a torment to tender con
sciences, and a rejoicing to such as are of Ro
mish propensities, since they so readily find
themselves supported by it in their favorite
dogma of sacramental grace. — Central Pres
byterian.
Infant Baptism. —At breakfast, one morn
ing, a poor woman came in, begging Sidney
Smith to christen a new-born child, which
was thought to be dying. He instantly left
the table and accompanied the woman to her
cottage. On his return, one of the guests
asked him how he had left the baby. “Why,”
said he, “ I first gave it a dose of castor oil,
and then I christened it; so now the poor
child is ready for either world.” Does
“christening” make children ready for the
world to come ? That's the inseparable
falsehood in the usage!
Firmness in Discipline. —We shall never
forget a scene which we once witnessed in the
Virginia Conference. A “bad case” was on
the docket, and preparatory to taking it up,
Bishop Waugh called on the late Thomas
Crowder to offer prayer. Such a prayer as
he offered we hardly ever heard equaled.
Every one within the reach of our vision was
bathed in tears, except the principal party in
the case—his eyes were dry. A member
arose, and, still crying, intimated a willing
ingness to shake hands and make up the mat
ter, whereupon Dr. W. A. Smith arose—his
eyes red with crying—“ 1 can cry,” said he,
“as well as anybody ; but I never cry my
principles out of my eyes.” He called for a
full and fair investigation of the case, and a
satisfactory conclusion was reached.— Nash.
Christian Advocate.
Inactive Christians. —Dr. Pendleton cites
from a sermon of Dr. Lyman Beecher’s,
which he heard at Cincinnati, in 1835 : “ A
great many professed Christians have no other
idea of religion than that it is the means of
getting to heaven when they died. As to do
ing anything for God while they live, it does
not enter into their plans. I tell you, my
brethren, I do not believe there is one in five
hundred of such professors that will reach
heaven ; for there is a magnanimity in true
religion that is above all such contemptible
meanness.”
Soepticism on Trust. —“ We ask any on®
who knows English society,” such is the ed
itorial language of a late number of the
London Spectator , “if we exaggerate when
we say, that there are hundreds of able men
in England, who, knowing nothing of science,
disbelieve in God, or rather in God’s govern
ment, because, as they think, science has dis
pelled that ancient delusion ; men who refer
honestly and confidingly to the ‘authority’
of science, exactly as people once referred to
the ‘authority’ of the church; and who re
gard Professors Huxley, Tyndall, and the
rest, as ‘directors’ (of opinion) are supposed
1 to be regarded by faithful Ultramontanes.”