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CHRISTIAN IN DM AND SOUTH-WEST ERN BAPTIST.
;.* * •
VOL. 49-NO. 21.
A RELIGIOUS AND FAMILY PAPER,
PUBLISHED WEEKLY IE ATLANTA, GA
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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.