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About Christian index and South-western Baptist. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1866-1871 | View Entire Issue (May 26, 1870)
CHRISTIAN IN DM AND SOUTH-WEST ERN BAPTIST. ;.* * • VOL. 49-NO. 21. A RELIGIOUS AND FAMILY PAPER, PUBLISHED WEEKLY IE ATLANTA, GA TBRMB.—Clubs of Pour, <*3.00 each) per annum...*l2.oo Clubs of Three, ($3.33 each) per annum..., 10.00 Clubs of Two, (3.50 each) per annum 7.00 J. J. TOO ET, Proprietor. Buonaparte on St. Helena. Lone eagle! chained to ocean-rock I Majestic in thy solitude 1 The storm is passed—the earthquake s shock : And now, in solitary mood, Tby eye of calm, deep scrutiny, • Looks' far over the sleeping sea. Thy wing has sped a wondrous flight lias spread its course o’er land and sea; And in the pride of conscious might, ’Midst storms career’d most fearlessly, To fiercest‘blasts thy bosom bared. And e’en the lightning’s bolt has dared. With thrones and kingdoms thou has played, As children with a foot-ball play; Thy word of destiny has made ffings to appear, or haste away. One hand on serf bestows a crown, Another pulls a monarch down. Dread man 1 the terror of thy fame Smites each of all the trembling zones; And kings, at mention of thy name, Quail, as they hug their tottering thrones. At thy imperial stamp, a birth Os legions, armed, leaps from the earth. The frighted ground shakes ’neath thy tread ; . Convulsions rock the solid earth, Which heaves, on terror-stricken bed, As with the pangs of some strange birth : And still, at thy relentless will, Each scene becomes more wondrous still. Garters, and stars, and titled name, And all the pride of heraldry, Confess, in thy empyreal fame, Heaven’s patent of nobility. Proud lords of regal ancestry, Bend to the Corsican the knee. But royal bird ! tby flight is stayed, And arrow sharp has pierced thy heart; In dust is thy brave pinion laid, And now a captive bound thou art. No more wilt thou soar in the skies; Fallen thou art, no more to rise. On what, Bird! art thou thinking now, As thou dost gaze upon the sea ? What cares becloud thy noble brow? What visions now appear to thee? What are the thoughts which fill tby breast, Perched on thy high and rocky crest ? Art thou now thinking of loved France? The eyry whence thy daring wing Did rise, and upward still advance, Until thou didst behind thee fling Each thick’ning mass of floating cloud, As if thyself in heaven to shroud ? Art musing now on fallen thrones? Wrecks floating on ambition’s sea, Or on the fields of bleaching bones,— Price of thy reeling destiny? Once riding high on glory’s wave, Now pinioned like a captive slave. Do bannered hosts before tbee ride, In all the pomp and heraldry, And shout and storm of battle-tide, And deeds of glory’s revelry? Awakes again thy ecstacy, At “The Old Guard’s” deep chivalry ? Dazzles thy once mor’e brightening eyes Proud Jenna’s glory? To thy view Again, on Austerlit? arise Thv suu? Or sink on Waterloo? To burning Egypt dost thou go ? Or wrap thyself in Russian suow? Mysterious man I what hidden charm So strangely draws our soul to thee? Which almost ceusure does disarm And claim our secret sympathy? Thy fame and sorrows, Buonaparte, Would bribe the verdict of our heart. 'O, mighty Qpptnin 1 had’st thou known A Capiain, greater far than thou,* But learned, a suppliant at His throne, In penitence and prayer to bow, And tby soul’s affluence to bring In incense, to thy God and King: O! hadst thou learned thy voice to raise— So often heard in battle-cry— In tones of prayer and songs of praise, To the Eternal Majesty, Thou wouldst have bound around thy brow A wreath that would be verdant now. But faded all thy laurels are; The crown has fallen'from thy head; The lightning’s garland thou disdt wear, Lies quenched in thy cold, clammy bed. The flame which did thy path illume, Serves but to light, now, to thy tomb. Where, now! O, where thy august fame ? All melted into empty air! And Buonaparte is but a name To tell how mean earth’s glories are. Who, at his grave, heaves not the sigh, O, Earth 1 such is thy mockery! Lonely thy prison-house still stands, , The ocean winds still o’er it blow: And still, rolling from distant lands, The ocean’s waves around it flow. Thy dirge—the winds’ and waves’ lament: Helena’s rock—thy Monoilbst. W. H. J. LiUiville, A. C., 1870. Extracts from Motley’s History of the Dutch Republic. “These instructions to the inquisitors had been renewed and confirmed by Philip, in the very first month of his reign, (Nov. 28th, 1555.) *As in the case of the edicts, it had been thought desirable, by Granvella, to make use of the supposed magic of the Emperor’s name to hallow the whole machinery of per secution. The action of the system during the greater part of the imperial period, had been terrible.” “Among all the In quisitors,*the name of Peter Titelmaun was now preeminent. He executed his infamous functions throughout Flanders, Douay and Tournay, the most thriving and populous portions of the Netherlands, with a swiftness, precision, and even with a jocularity which hardly seemed human.” The secular sheriff, familiarly called Red Rod, from the color of his wand of office, meeting this in quisitor Titelmaun, one day, upon the high road, thus wonderingly addressed him : “ How can you venture to go about alone, or at mgst, with an attendant or two, arresting people on every side, while 1 dare not attempt to exe cute my office, except at the head of a strong force, armed in proof; and then only at the peril of my life?” “Ah! Red Rod,” answered Peter, jocose* ly, “you deal with bad people; I have noth ing to fear, for I seize only the innocent and virtuous, who make no resistance, and let themselves be taken like lambs.” Hearing, once, that a certain school-master, named Geleyn de Muler, of Audenarde, “ was addicted to reading the Bible,” he summoned the culprit before him and accused him of heresy. The school-master claimed, if he were guilty of any crime, to be tried before the judges of the town. “You are my pris oner,” said Titelmaun, “ and are to answer me, and none other.” The- Inquisitor pro ceeded accordingly to tatechise him,and soon satisfied himself of the school master’s here sy. He commanded him to make immediate recantation. The school master refused. “Do you not love youu wife and children?” asked the demoniac Titelmaun. “ God knows,” answered the heretic, “ that if the whole world were gold, and my own, 1 would give it all only to have’them with me, even had I to live on bread and water in bondage.” “ You have, then,” replied the Inquisitor, only to renounce the error of your opin ions.” “ Neither for wife, children, nor all the world, can I renounce my God and reli gious truth,” answered the prisoner. There upon Titelmaun sentenced him td the stake. He was strangled, and then thrown into the flames.” — The Rise of the Dutch Republic, pp. 331, 332, 333. Here is food for reflection ; and, Solomon said, “The prudent man fureseelh the evil and hideth himself, but the simple pass on and are punished.” Who inaugurated the inquisi- FRANKLIN PRINTING HOUSE, ATLANTA, GA., THURSDAY, MAY 26, 1870. tion ? The most Christian and Catholic Em peror, Charles the Fifth, the most powerful monarch of the fifteenth century. Who re vived the terrible inquisition in the Nether lands after the French war ? His most Chris tian majesty, Philip II of Spain. Who was the instrument for carrying out the bloody edicts, and for inaugurating a reign of terror? The Archbishop Granvelle, one of the ablest and most enlightened men of his day. Who, towering above all the other actors, gave his holy (?) sanction to this demoniacal proceed ing? The vicar of Christ—his holiness the Pope. Student. A Word with regard to our Colleges. At the late session of the Georgia Baptist State Convention, it was decided by an al most unanimous vote, to remove Mercer Uni versity from its present location to anew and more eligible one. I hail this actiou as the harbinger of better days for Georgia Baptists, as well as for Mercer University. It is, doubtless, the intention of the denomi nation in your great State to make the Insti tution what it ought to be. But c3n they— will they doit? After its removal, will it not still be a second or third rate Institution ? Have the Georgia Baptists the money to properly equip and endow a first class Uni versity 1* Have they counted !he co3t of such an Institution ? And if they have the money, ■will they give it ? I fear not. Alabama, also, has a College struggling for existence. Its former small endowment has taken to itself wings. It is true, Alabama Baptists still have money ; but it seems they intend to keep it, and let the College take care of itself; or, rather, let is noble and energetic President take care of it for them. But brother Freeman, with all his good qualities, is not quite an endowment. His pockets are not so full of rocks as his head is of hard sense. It takes money, and a large amount of it, to make a first class College. Howard College will never meet the demands of the times without an endowment of at least two hundred thousand dollars; and when it has secured that, it will need two hundred thou sand more. In Mississippi, I hardly know whether we have a College or not. We had one once, with an endowment of more than one hun dred thousand dollars. Now we do not even own the buildings. A debt of ten or twelve thousand dollars has caused*them to pass out of our hands, It is true, they may be re deemed. But suppose we redeem them, what have we then? Fifty thousand dollars worth of brick and mortar. Will that give ns a College? Then Colleges are cheap. With the debt paid, we should need from one to two hundred thousand dollars to make the Institution even respectable as a College. Suppose we could raise the larger sum; suppose Howard and Mercer had an equal sum as an endowment, we should then have in the three States, three barely respectable institutions of learning. Now, would it not be the part of wisdom to put the six hundred thousand dollars to gether, meet on common ground, and build up an Institution that would take rank with the first in the world? We could still have schools at Clinton, Marion and Perffield, which would serve as feeders to the larger and common Institution. With two hundred thousand Baptists, snd mo,re, rallying to its support, we could soon furnish it with all the money it would need, and fill its halls, with students. Now is the time to do this, if it is ever done. Two years hence it will be too late. Now we can do it, will it not be criminal in us not to do it? Will not the monied men of the denomination speak out and tell us whether they will build three Colleges or onh>? Baptists of Georgia, Alabama and Mississippi, what say you ? Mississippi. The Autobiography of an Old Pilgrim. ( Continued.) 5. I remarked, in the last place, in refer ence to the visions of glory of which I have been speaking, that they do not secure one from temptation, nor afford him any assu rance that he shall never more be overcome by evil. Even the Saviour, who, at His baptism, received such a signal manifestation of the good pleasure of His Heavenly Father, was immediately thereafter, we are told in Holy Writ, led out into the wilderness to be tempt ed of the Devil. In my own past experience, so often have strong temptations followed spe cial manifestations of the Saviour’s love, that now, when 1 rejoice in the visits of His love, l rejoice with fear and trembling. Conversa tion with others (a chosen few) who delight more in talking about the love of Jesus than in displaying their “ literary merit” in ser mons, lectures, addresses and essays artisti cally constructed, and skillfully interwoven with the flowers of rhetoric, induce the belief, that the experience of other Christians corres ponds with my own in this matter. Hence I infer, that among the decrees of God, (if any one’s stomach is too weak to digest decrees, he may substitute purposes for decrees , and read me thus: “ that among the purposes of God,”) there is one to this effect: “No child of mine shall be subjected to extraordinary trials or temptations, without first being stregthened and prepared for the same by ex traordinary manifestations of my favor.” O, what a merciful God is our God—the God of our salvation ? Well may John declare, and reiterate the declaration, “ God is love.” In the days of the apostles, some had faith to be healed of their diseases, and some had not. There are different degrees ot faith im parted to the children of men in the present day. Some have faith to receive visions; the many have not. Learned and critical students of the Bible, (such as are most of our theological professors,) rarely have the requisite degree of faith. They have acquired such a knowledge of roots and particles, com pounds and derivatives, of the usus loquendi of ancient and modern times, that they fancy they know about as much as can be known or is needful to be known, of the sacred Scrip tures, and, therefore, are generally as scepti cal about heavenly visions as are the unre generate, of whom'it has been trnly said : “ A heart unregen’rate can never ootfeeive A tithe of the bliss that renewed ones receive, While visions of glory burst forth to their view, And, ‘ These have I purchased, ye ransomed, for you,’ Says Jesus, in accents melodiously sweet, As myriads redeemed cast their crowns at His feet.” The learned may believe the scriptural rep resentations of the glory of God and the joys of heaven, and may discourse eloquently about them, but not until they are ushered into heaven will they ever feel the truth of them, unless they are favored with one <sf the visions of glory of which they now, perhaps, conceive as of a myth, a wild imagining, a nonentity. “Well, if a man believes the truth of the scriptural representations it is enough,” some one may say. Will he say so to his physician who offers him a draught and says to him, “Take this and it will relieve you instantaneously of the faintness and pain of, which you are complaining?” The differ ence between believing and feeling a scriptural truth is just as great as the difference between believing and knowing —just as great, and no greater, no less. We should all covet to feel, as well as believe, the truthfulness of all of God’s promises of' race, mercy and peace. But the spiritual visions God grauts are not always visions of giory. He some times grants, as warnings, visions of wrath, misery and woe, as indescribable as the joys of hea ven. A vision of both kinds was granted to a near kinsman of mine, many years ago, of which l will endeavor to give an account. It will be six and thirty years the coming sum mer since that kinsman, as we believe, was taken to his home in glor.y. My nephew J. was residing with my bro ther, of whom I have made mention as pas tor of a church in Virginia. One evening he retired to rest at an early hour. His bed room adjoined the one in which the family ■ were sitting. After some time the family were startled by cries of anguish in my neph ew’s room. My brother ran in with a lighted candle, and found him in great agony, not of the body, but of the mind, and learned from him that he had a fearful vision of the lost who are confined in torments' that he thought he was Kimself made Ao suffer the wrath of a holy and justly incensed God, and experienced an anguish that no language could possibly describe. After some conversation with him, and a prayer offered by my bro ther, he was again left alone. An hour or more passed, when they were again startled by cries from my nephew’s room, but they wereveries of a very different kind from those which had their attention in the first instance. My brother again repaired to his nephew’s room, and lound him, this time, not in a state of agony, but in a state of ecstacy. He had had a vision of heaven and its glories, and had been made to partake with the redeemed in the joys of salvation, and to unite with them in the never-ceasing and never-wearying ser vice of the upper sanctuary. His countenance was lighted up with joy, and his mouth full of praise and thanksgiving, and with expres sions of earnest desire for others to partici pate in the felicities of heaven. Especially did he desire that a sister of his aunt, to whom he felt strongly attached, should know of the happiness he had realized, and be made to en joy the same in all its transcendent purity and fulness. , There is a sequel to this narrative, and in it there is a mingling of the painful and the pleasant, with more of the painful than it is pleasant to report. Fidelity, however, to truth, and to the souls of my readers, require me to report the painful as well as the pleas ant. The report will tend to confirm the truth of tile remark made in the beginning of this article. My nephew, J., was a promising and inter esting youth, moral, mild, kind-hearted, cour teous, and unusually prepossessing in his man ners. While I was pursuing my studies in a Northern college, he was sent on to the same, and entered the. class below me, (the Fresh man.) We consequently were separated, as each class had a particular portion of the col lege buildings assigned it. The greater por tion of the students from the South, at that time, were irreligious and inclined to profli gacy. They had formed a literary society of their own, and every young man from the South was urged to join it. I had joined one of the older societies, which had been recom mended to me by the teacher of the last Eng lish school I had attended prior to my going to college. My nephew joined the Southern society, consequently, as ociated principally with its members, and was soon enticed from the path of moral rectitude. J. remained but a few months in college. For some cause or other he was called home. I never knew the real cause, but suppose it was his extravagance. His father’s means were very limited, as he had failed in the mercantile business a few years before. On his way home he stopped in the city of New York, was overcome by evil, and spent all the funds’with which he had been furnished to pay his expenses homeward. I received a letter from his father, after he left college about a month, and I had supposed him to be safe at home, informing me that J. was in New York, and requesting me to look him up and send him on home. With this request I promptly complied ; and here I end this pain fully unpleasant part of my story, without going into a detail of particulars. J’s father was a Baptist—a very pious man. but very stern and rigid in the exercise ts discipline, both in his church and at his home. J. had joined the Presbyterians while with his uncle. On his return home his father put him to hard work on his farm. Years passed away ; J. reformed, married a wife, joined the Methodists, and became a Methodist preacher. My brother (the preacher) in process of time removed to Georgia and became the pastor of a large and opulent city church. He remem bered his nephew, sought him out, and re converted him to Presbyterianism. At the time of bis death, J. was the pastor of a city church in Georgia. He died on his way to the Virginia Springs. A Methodist preacher visited him in his illness, wrote a report of his death, and represented him as having been sustained, in his dying hour, by a calm, cheer ing and unwavering trust in Jesus. Such was the chequered life of one to whom it pleased the Lord to make special revela tions, not of any new truth, but of Old Bible truths that had been communicated centuries ago by individuals called and qualified by the gift of the Holy Spirit for the all-important work of making known His will and purposes to the children of men. This narrative of events in the brief life of one of my kinsmen wiil fully sustain the truth of all that 1 have said in reference to the spiritual revelations with which it pleases God to favor a limited number of his servants. Abdiel Nekoda. “ There Remaineth, therefore, a Rest to the Peeple of God.”—Heb 4: 9. It is Saturday eve. The ploughman is busily-humming a song of praise, as he leads his horse from the field of labor. His steps show that he is wearied from the toil of sev eral days,—while he hails with joy the close of the busy week, and anticipates with praise the approaching Sabbath or rest. The merchant has closed his doors, freed from the toils of the week, rejoicing that a day of rest is dawning. The little urchin repeats, with great satisfaction, the “ Saturday even ing hymn” taught him by his parents— “ How pleasant it is of a Saturday evening, When I’ve tried all the week to be good ; Not spoken a word that was bad. And obliged eve.y one that I could. To-morrow the holy-day comes Which our merciful Father has given, That we may have rest from our labor, And prepare for the joys of heaven.” All mankind seems to hail with joy the dawn of the Sabbath. The laborer says, “ 1 shall recuperate my physical strength, and be bet ter prepared for the toils of another week, by the Sabbath recreation.” The Christian re joices that a day is approaching in which he will not only have rest from the labors of the week, but in which he can engage in the de votional service of the Author of that rest, free from the cares of the world. Is not this rest, which occurs after the toils of each week have passed, typical of the rest which remain eth to the people of God ? “ There remain eth, therefore, a rest to the people of God.” A rest after the toils of life’s busy week is over. A rest, not only from the labors we are required to perform in this world, but a rest from all the cares, anxieties, afflictions, sorrows, pains and perplexities to which we are here subject. The aged XTrMstian hails with joy this eternal rest. He' fc»s spent a long week in the service of Liis qaerciful Father, and that Father ha 9 pnomised him a rest at the end of the week. tottering step, his hoary hair and his furrowed cheek all say he needs that rest. Clip asunder the ties of earth that bind him bqfc#w, and he is ready to go. Earth, to him, has nojoys, ex istence no attractions ; he* lies lan guishing on his bed of suffering, "the messen ger standing by his side readyYo escort hirn away to the eternal rest, he^jfjs: “ Come, wf^t&jSMb'Dealh, I’ll gladly tliea.” “ Why do we weep when the Chr*ian dies ? Death’s the voice that palls him to the skies.” w W. L. G. The Secret of Mr. Earle’s Success. His labors^have been wcSfer-fully blest; and the results promise, to be last ing. Various opinions have bpan expressed as to the secret of his The spring of his success is, of course, in the attending blessing of the Holy Spirit. But why are his labors so much blessed ? B£ some, his success with God is to his unwa vering faith. He expects sucoqss, and he therefore succeeds. This But other laborers, witji faith us and labor as abundant, are not blessed with success. Others explaipUc as resulting from his personal holine-s and devotion, to Christ and His work. These are powerful influences, and always aid of labor ing for Christ. But other servants of Christ as eminent for personal and conse cration to-the work, are not this blessed. Do6s not Mr. Earle’s power, under pod, lie mainly in his plain, famtfgr and %cleap, presentation of the truth? TueHruth affects!., the heart only 'when it is understood and'clear ly apprehended. Some who justify random preaching, or as they term it., “ shooting an arrow at a venture,” claim that most convic tions are the result of the lodgment of a stray truth in the mind and ft 4 art. And it may be so. But mark ! This«tray truth is effective because it is, and perhaps the only one uttered by the preacher that is, under stood and clearly apprehended. .Children say that they can understand every of Mr. Earle’s preaching. And so "lean the most illiterate and untutored adult mind. Were every other preacher of the Word, whose life is as fully consecrated to the work, and whose faith is as unwav&ring as that of Mr. Earle, to preach as plainly and clearly as he does, what could prevent equal success? No special promise of succesi is given to Mr. Earle; and God is as ready to bless one as anothejr. * A B'/ble Baptist. Hope—Who Hath It? Hopes are as the fruit germs of the flowers of faith, springing from the seeds of desire; some are matured into realization, whilst many prove false and are blasted. It is a beautiful thought, that when our first parents were expelled from, the bright bow ers of Eden, Hope was given them, in the promise of a Saviour to redeem the.forth coming fallen sons and daughters of Adam and Eve. Was ever a thought more beauti ful, an idea more sublime, or a prortiise more, precious -than this ? To it h.-.:> been given the name of Hope. ‘’• > f Hesiod, the ungallant olaGreek, acouses the woman Pandora of deceiving Epimetheus, in opening the forbidden jar, and turning loose upon the world all the evils of the earth, detaining nothing but Hope. Thanks to her for that de tention ; for with such an armor we may bat tle against our enemies, despondency and de spair, mountain-like though they be. The ancient Romans honored the thought with a female statue. lij her right hand she held a plate, on which rested a cup, bearing the in scription, “Spes Populi Rom^e” — Thh hypes of the people of Rome. We see hope portrayed conspicuously in both natural and revealed religion ; in the promises of idolatry, and in the promises of the Prince of the House of David; in the golden apples of the garden of Jupiter, and in the fruits of the “ tree of life,” to be matured in that far-off better land whither we are all hastening, for the harvest-time in the uncer tain future. From this sublime thought was borrowed the phrase that conveys to the mind les ser desires of man ; and from these hopes celestial, we descend to hopes terrestrial— hopes that pertain to this life—this world— this “ frail, fleeting show.” Os these there are how many ! and oh, how varied and un certain ! Mark the gray-haired minister, bowed down under the weight of years, the tottering, trembling messenger of God to man. Notice him as he marks the light, elastic tread of his ooming and going congregation. With what anxiety does he watch their gathering and their going, going!—ah! so carelessly going ! going over the brink to a fathomless eternity, unprepared for that future ! Look a little closer, and amid that anxiety may be discovered gleams of hope shilling forth like the bow of promise on the back-grounds of dark despair. Mark him again, as the way ward wanderers, one by one, come humbly, penitently and hopefully; to join the happy throng who are wending their way, slowly yet surely, through that path that leads to the harvest time, a&tf the temple of God. ihen is his gleam of hope made a halo of glory, shining forth from the image of his Maker. Mark, too, the attentive physi cian as he numbers the quick bounding pulse and the hurried respiration—as he follows the wild delirium and the restlesS-movements of his feverish patient. His hopes are cen tred on the powers of nature,.and the potency of his prescriptions to aid hep in overcoming the invading enemy, disease. Watch again his anxiety, as hope allures to deceive, and disease gains the ascendancy. See the hope forlorn, as he leans on his last remedy, and ministers amid hopeless despair; when his potions prove impotent, and the damp of death distills from the marble brow of his dying patient, like the dews of Hermon, on the mountain of Zion. His earthly hopes are ended here. How happy he who can calmly bid his friend farewell, and with confiding hope point his patient to the summit of that mountain where dwells the Great Physician, whose balm is blood —whose powers are om nipotent—whose patients suffer neither the pangs of pain, nor of disease, nor of death ! The youthful student, while he trims his midnight lamp, and pores over the dry pages of Csesar—follows the fancy of the blind bard, or is interested with Virgil’s more romantic history of ./Eneas and Dido—is lead on by the hope of future honor and distinction. The man of science, as he searches into the mys teries of nature, is encouraged to persevere by the hope of discovering new laws and new lights. The general, as he marshals his hosts and leads on to battle and to victory, leads with the hope of fame and glory. Friend ship’s hopes cling around U3>in the dark hours of despair, to buoy us up in.our onward way, and make us rejoice amid scenes of sorrow. The fire of love burns in the bosom of those of maturer years, leading them to stem the tide of adversity and breast the storms of life, hoping to realize many happy hours. But what shall I say of that most sacred of all other hopes —the secret hope of a devout and devoted mother ! See her as she bends o’er the innocent babe that rests helpless on her bosom—blood of her blood—flesh of her flesh—life of her life. How anxiously does she look forward to the time when it shall leave its paternal roof and maternal care, and “ launch into the world, fondl y dreaming each wind and star its friend !” Who <jpn fathom the hopes of that mother’s heart! Who see their realization or their disappointment! She looks with the eye of faith into the far distant future, and in secret earnestly and unceasingly prays the protection and aid of Heaven. Around the varied and varying scenes of life—of prosperity or adversity — the hopes of the mother cling there still. .Some noble poet hath left this thought: “ Youth may fade, love droop, friendship fall, A mother hope outlives them all.” It is a Beautiful thought—“ a mother's hope outlives them all.” But what can live longer or buoy up stronger than the hope of a Chris tian? A mother’s hope may live on longer, .through this life, but the Christian’s hope en dures forever —a hope that is brighter and sweeter, and one that gives more comfort than all of earth beside. The Bible tells us—and where can we find better authority ?—that this hope is a compound of desire, expecta tion, patience and joy. It is pure, for it lives .in a ijeart God has purified. It is good, be cause God gave it, and it is centred in Him. *lt'is courageous-; it gives us fortitude to bear the troubles and trials of this world, and yields support and strength in the hour of* dissolution. It is joyful, for we kNow it gives greater happiness than aught else on earth. It is*sure—it is fixed on the surest of all founda tions, and will never disappoint us. It is all this. Yea it is more. It is abiding ! What .other hope can cheer us farther than the grave? The Christian’s hope looks for all necessary good both in time and in eternity. Founded ’"on the promises and perfections of our Su preme Creator—on the love, the righteousness and the intercession of our ever-living Re deemer—the Christian’s hope is next to HEAVEN. BuNNIE. May 1 6th, 1870. Sabbath Evening Reveries. I have often thought that the song com mencing, “On Jordan’s stormy banks I stand,” contains as much Christian joy as any poetry ever written, unless it is the soul stirring lines of “ Kirkham,” “ How firm a foundation ye saints ot the Lord.” But to return. On Jordan’s, etc., “ Where my possessions lie.” The Chris tian has no possession, on this side of Jordan. He may be said to be a tenant at-will, living on rented property; but has property just over, in sight; and another poet says: ‘ When I can read my titles clear to those mansions, I bid farewell to every fear and wipe my .weeping eyes.' The purchase was made and the title signed, sealed and delivered by ‘‘Jesus Christ,” on “Calvary,” in the pres ence of the “ Father and angels,” written with His own blood. If we can see the title is clear and in our favor, no wonder we can wipe oar weeping eyes, and bid farewell to every fear. Take a poor man with a growing family, who spends many sleepless hours in vain effor.ts to devise means to meet the expenses of his dependent household. Some one comes forward and puts into his hand a fee simple title to a 1 argot estate, fitted up with all the appliances of wealth, culture, fertile lands and alluvial fields that- never fail, stock and food for man and beast, a fine mansion, furn ished from cellar to garret, picture galleries hung with the choicest gems of art, shaded lawns, fountains, luscious fruits without stint. Would he not be happy in a worldly point of view? Well, just over in Canaan, the Christian has and his is a fee simple title to have and to hold forever, de fended from all intrusion. No writ of eject ment can ever prevail against him. Let us take a casual survey of his valuable claims. “ Oh! the transporting rapturous scene that rises to tny sight; sweet fields arrayed in living green, and rivers of delight.” Look at those waving forests of the tree of life, swayed by the gentle breezes of heaven. Did you ever stand in fields where the pass ing clouds obscured the sun whilst the sun light lingered on the distant trees, and gilded the forest with his golden light? So the Christian stands surrounded by dark and murky vapors arising from the cesspools of earth ; but over there, where his possessions lie, everything is illuminated by the light of heaven, rendered doubly beautiful by con trast with his present condition, and ever and anon between the waving branches he catches a view of the life-giving fruits ripening each month, while even the leaves are a healing balm—a panacea for the ills of the nations, ‘i There generous fruits, that never fade, on trees immortal grow.” Look at those happy crowds that gently throng the green banks of the “ river of life.” Oh! what a happy, hap py throng! No dark frowns there, no luring look of debauchery, no glance of contempt, no corrugated brows indicative of internal pain ; but genuine, deep-seated, joyous, heav enly peace beams from every eye; no cold corrugates the flesh, no fever parches the tongue, no pains contract the countenance; and better than bll, no fear that they ever will, for “ No cTtilling winds nor poisonous breath can reach this healthful shore; sicknessani sor row-, pain and death, are felt and feared no more." Sometimes the Christian catches a view of the magnificent city, through the gentle openings. See those twelve founda tions of jasper, agate, emerald, sapphire, and all those precious stones, and those twelve massive, but pearly gates, that stand open day and night. Did you ever think of that wonderful and magnificent city fifteen hun dred miles long, fifteen hundred wide, fifteen hundred high, 225,000 miles within the city, and surrounded by 900,000 miles of walls covered with gold, while the streets are fifteen hundred miles long, paved with the same precious metal, while in the midst of the city, and just from under the thronb, springs up the “river of life?” Oh, what a place of defence for the Christian ! Fifteen hundred miles high! Everything except the eye of faith falters and grows dizzy trying to scale its sacred top, which needs not to be guarded by sentinels with their regular and monoto nous tread; whose parapets need no boom ing cannon to protect its sacred portals. No siege can cut off its supply of water, nor ex haust its golden fruits. “Rock 9, and brooks, and hills, and dales, With tnilk and honey flow. Could we but climb wjierte Moses stood, And view the landscape o’er, Not Jordan’s stream, nor death’s cold flood, Could fright us trom the shore.” S. D. Everett. The Church.—“ The churches under the Cross,” the name adopted by the Protestant confessors and martyrs of Holland, is at once an epitome of their history, and a synopsis of their doctrine. “ Under the Cross!” The words are eloquent of Christian heroism, of faith humbly cherished, of patience, hard ex perience, sustaining hope, submission to a chastening hand, and vicarious sufferings for truth and for humanity. ‘They speak to us of an army “ terrible with banners,” advan cing by the paths of death and suffering to the peace and joy of victory. Humility.— A godly man’s thoughts are lowest of himself. “ Behold,"how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together“in nnity.” —Ps. cxxxii; 1. It is very much to be feared that public journals and newspaper contributors, in the absorbing questions affecting the doctrines and ordinances of the church, lose sight of many practical subjects of weighty consequence to the well-being of our beloved Zion. In re flecting upon the languishing condition of many of our churches, and the apparently lifeless state of many of them, among innu merable influences operating to bring it about, and resulting from their lukewarm, backslid den or unfruitful state, the most common symptom is the absence of brotherly love, and the presence of feelings of alienation be tween members. In some cases the disagree ments and hard feelings do not amount to an open rupture, but they are often none the •less injurious to the welfare of the church for being deep-seated and not perceptible on the surface. As in some old chronic diseases, the symptoms may be slight whilst the ex isiing cause is sapping the energies and de stroying the functions of a vital organ ; dis cordant members may tread each other re spectfully, an.d exchange the usual friendly salutations and courtesies of life, while every thing, like affectionate, or even true friendly feeling, is being gradually obliterated, and it requires a very slight bring about a most alarming.and Satanic church difficulty, destroying and subverting the usefulness,'and __ ofttfn the life of the church. This chronic disease among the churche's, developing itself in so many painful instances in the history of almost all.churches, being, no doubt, .mainly dependent on a neglect of individual members to carry out the Scrip ture requirement in all such cases, and the failure to exercise that charity which think eth no ill, might very easily have its exciting cause promptly removed by using those, means; but inasmuch as they have failed to be used, in many cases, it becomes an inquiry* whether pastors and deacons, or other breth ren, to whom some of these disagreements among the brethren are known, should not come forward as peacemakers, and privately, on their own responsibility, try to bring about a reconciliation. More good, in many cases, has been done by a little timely bushwhacking in such cases, than by a whole battalion of well-directed shots from the pulpit.^ Brethren, you who are pastors, par ticularly, is your church lukewarm, almost dead, lifeless, ready to have the candlestick removed? Does your preaching seem to be like water spilled upon the ground? Are your hands falling by your side, with none to uphold them in the battle that is going on against the powers of darkness ? Look around you. Go from house to house. En quire diligently, prudently and affectionately, into the state of feeling among your members. With prayer and fasting enter upon the search. . Give yourself no rest until every effort i9 expended in healing up these old sores, or the new ones. It will be time well spent —worth three times as much as the same number of hours in your study. Is the matter of dif ference between some of your brethren a personal one? Try to bring them together, and get down with to God, and beseech Him to heal the breach. Then ask each, separately, to state the matter of grievance, and, if there is anything in the power of true religion and the grace of God, you will not fail to reconcile the parties. But remember to preserve the utmost secre cy about what has been done, and enjoin it upon the parties interested. Is the matter of difference between them dependent on busi ness transactions? Have they grown out of misunderstandings or wrongs, fancied or real, in money matters ? Persuade them to leave it to arbitration, if they cannot settle it by themselves with your aid. Let the deacons, the other brethren and sisters, all take these reflections and suggestions, and inquire wheth er they may not aid their pastor and come to the relief of the church. It may be that some of you have thoughtlessly talked of the difficulties and disagreements among the discordant elements of your church. It may have been that you inadvertently added fuel to the flame. Have you asked yourself, Can .I, probably, reconcile the parties? If you have prudence, and a prayerful spirit, you can. Oh, that we could all bind ourselves with a vow, not only not to let the sun go down upon our own wrath; but to give no slumber to our'eyelids until we had attempted to induce our brethren who are at variance, to be reconciled to each other; for in doing thus you bring down the blessing—“ Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God.” C. E. Brame. ' Rock West, Wilcox county, Ala. “I Bide My Time.” With patient hand, with patient thought, • The daily task of life is wrought; The seed' is sown ; it matters nought If now no rich return be brought, For still We bide time. With earnest faith, with earnest prayer, Life’s daily cross we all must bear, And if its wreathing thorns of care Our shrinking flesh shall bruise and tear, E’en then We bide our time. To-day the purple grapes are pressed; ■ To-day we toil, nor seek for rest; The storm we bear, the wave we breast, And storm and wave their wrath attest; To-day • We bide our time. For we can wait. God’s purpose grand Unchanged and changeless still shall stand; And those who work His high command No power shall pluck from out His hand. In faith We bide our time. In God’s good time, oier hill and plain, Shall wave a wealth of golden grain; The fruitage won through years of pain Shall prove our toil was not in vain Till then We bide our time. 0, glorious end! G, day divine! Dear Lord, our times are ever Qiine; Thy winters chill, Tby summers shine, And each unfolds Thy calm design, While still We bide our time! — Sunday’Sohool Times. Liberality. —The Congregationalist quotes, approvingly, the following from the late Dr. Murray, (“ Kirwan”) : “We never hear truly liberal men vaunting their liberality; and those who make it their trade, follow it for the profit. For myself, I would be ashamed to be heard claiming credit for my catholicity by declaiming on anniversary platforms as to my readiness to admit that other Christians have as good a title to be considered fellow citizens with the saints a% I have, —a senti ment which every eld woman in the land who ha 9 tasted that the Lord is gracious, holds as a first principle. And yet this is the only claim which many popular declaimers have to Christian liberality. Never is bigotry so detestable as when it looks out from the veil of au angel.” Prudent Foresight. —A pledge of total abstinence from wine and all spirituous liquors is required as a condition of admis sion to the Theological Seminary of the West ern Turkey Mission' at Marsovan. In that wine-producing country, it is felt that the only safety to the churches is to be found in pastors who are not only temperate, but total abstinence men. WHOLE NO. 2491. Predestination. As the Rev. Mr. C., of L., was lately trav elling on horseback, he was overtaken by a genteel-looking traveller, who solicited the favor of his company. The stranger con versed like a man who had a veneration for sacred things, and, after talking on various subjects, asked Mr. C., “ Are you not a cler gyman ?” “lama minister of an Independent con gregation,” answered his companion. “ May I take the liberty to ask if you are a Calvinist I” said the other. “As that term, in its popular sense, oer* lainly conveys a general notion of my theo logioal sentiments,” replied Mr. C., I do not hesitate to appropriate it; but I have long admired the wisdom of that injunction of Jesus Christ, * Call no man your father upon t.he earth.’ ” $ “ But,” said the other, “ am I to understand that my new acquaintance, in whose conver sation 1 feel much interested, csn possibly admit in his creed the doctrine of predestina tion to eternal life ?” “ Most unquestionably,” returned the min ister ; “ for what doctrine is more clearly re vealed by Christ and the apostles? It is so linked in the golden chain of redemption, that I could not reject it without rejecting at the same time a great deal more.” , “But your candor rnust acknowledge/' added the stranger, *“ that 'thalr entirely de pends on the explanation given the many pa 9-; sages tp which you refer; and that many learned and good’men have placed them in a very different light from what the Calvinists do. Nor can/ vindicate the righteousness of God in making between His creatures any such distinctions as election supposes?” “Before that objection is admitted to have any force,” answered Mr. C., “you must prove that God owes eternal life to any of his fallen creatures ; and further, that the vindi cation of a mortal is essential to the equity, of God. Besides, the question is not, What are the difficulties connected with the doc trine? or, Can a worm solve them all? but, Is the doctrine of predestination scripturally and philosophically true, or is it not? The difficulties of the subject will prdve nothing against the fact; and he who brings tho le gislation of his Creator before the tribunal of his own understanding, should first be able to measure the length of His eternity, ihe breadth of His immensity, the height of His wisdom, and the depth of His decrees. Is it not a sad evidence of human depravity, that creatures of a day will ait in judgment on spiritual and eternal thing*, as if the Author of the great mystery of godliness were altogether such a one as themselves? Permit me to repeat to you a tew stanzas of Dr. Watts on this sub ject: “ ‘ Chained to His throne, a volume lies, With all Ihe fates of men, With every angel’s form and eisre Drawn by the eternal pen. ‘“Now He exalts neglected worms To sceptres and a crown ; Anon, the following page He turns, And treads the monarch down. Not Gabriel asks the reason why, Nor God the reason gives ; Nor dares the favorite angel pry Betweerf the golden leaves.’ ” “ But,” continued Mr. C., “ ignorance often attempts upon earth what would make, inspi ration tremble in heaven."’* “ I hope you will not be offended,” replied the gentleman, “ if I declare, notwithstanding all you advance,.! do not, I cannot believe in the doctrine of predestination.” “ Aud I hope,” rejoined Mr. C., “ that you will not be offended if I declare that I am quite of opinion you do believe it; for your intelligent conversation on other subjects will qot permit me to believe the contrary.” “ I beg, sir,” said the other, “ that you will explain yourse’f, for your assertion surprises me.” “ If you will favor me with a shoft answer of ‘ Yes’ or ‘ No’ to a few explicit questions I shall take the liberty to propose,” replied Mr. 0., “ I have little doubt that I can prove what I have affirmed ; and if you do not think my questions sufficiently explicit to admit such answers, I will endeavor to make them so.” “ It will afford me great satisfaction,” said the other, “to comply with your proposal.” Mr. C. then began : “ Are you of opinion that all sinners will be saved ?” “ By no means,” said the gentleman. “ But you.have no doubt,” added Mr. C., “ that it will be formally and finally deter mined at the day of judgment who are to be saved and who are to perish ?” “ I am certainly of that opinion,” replied the stranger. “ 1-would ask, then,” continued Mr. C., “ Is the great God under any necessity of waiting till those last awful assizes, in order to deter mine who are the righteous that are to be saved, and the wicked who are to perish? “ By no means,” said the other, “ for He certainly knows already.” “ When do you imagine,” asked Mr. C., “ that He first attained this knowledge?” •Here the gentleman paused and hesitated a little, but soon answered, “He must have known from all eternity.” “Then,” said Mr. C., “it must have been fixed from all eternity.” “ That by no means follows,” replied the other. “That it follows,” added Mr. C., “ that He did not know from all eternity, but only. guessed, and happened to guess right; for how can Omniscience know what is yet uncertain ?’g Here the stranger began to perceive his difficulty, and after a short debate, confessed it should seem it must have been fixed from eternity, “Now,” said Mr. C., “one question will prove that you believe in predestination as well as I. You have acknowledged, what can never be disproved, that God could not know from eternity who shall be saved, unless it had been fixed from eternity. If, then, it was fixed, be pleased, sir, to inform me who fixed it?” Thegentleman candidly acknowledged he had never taken this view of the subject before, and said he believed it would be the last time he should attempt to oppose predestination to eternal life.— Christian Intelligencer. The Poor. —The Protestant Churchtnan (Episcopal) says that “ in some of our ‘ fash ionable’ congregations a man without kid gloves is as much out of place as he would be at an aristocratic wedding party in cow hide boots. And it is because they feel that they cannot vie in elegance with their neigh bors that the poor often stay away from church.” To which the Advance (Congrega tional) replies : “ True; but where there is one such church as-this, there are ten which comfortably shelter themselves against such a strong indictment, yet tfeep the poor away for all that! They leave their kid gloves at home, perhaps, but their well-to-do indiffer ence toward the poor is as repellant as the dainty aversion of the former. They don’t want to be disturbed in their pews; they don’t want the trouble of making the acquaint ance of these people; they do not exercise Christian cordiality. They never think what a comment on their lives is the life of Christ !” Resignation. —What is resignation? It is putting God between one’s self and one’s grief.
