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CHRISTIAN INDEX Am, .jOI/HI-WESTERN BAPTIST.
VOL. 50—NO. 20.
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PUBLISHED WEEKLY IN ATLANTA,OA
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Invariably in Advance.
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To a Friend.
All nature’s quiet; one by one peep out
The twinkling stars from their blue ether home.
And as they, trembling, take their nightly place,
Oast modest glances on their forms rerealed
In sparkling waves that swell beneath my feet.
Naught breaks the sileuce save the music low
01 rippling waters, and the plaintive song
Os that tone bin which fills witn echoes sad
The quiet woods, as night her mantle spreads.
The stream by which 1 muse in silence lone
Falls over its rocky led in murmurs soft,
And onward hies to where it soon shall meet,
With iovful kiss, its lovely sister stream
*Thus J on, till ’midst the “ Land of Flowers, it laves
Upon its verdant banks the boughs,
And mingling with Svwansfs broader flow,
Into the ‘‘deep and dark blue ocean rolls.
Thy life, sweet friend, bo like th /! ® tream ’
A thousand springs of pure a “ d h oly joy
sr.ss r»"r ‘
Glide to the ocean of Eternity.
Again I turn to those bright orbs above.
V/oild after world reveals its g |oWI “K
Until night’s oabls mantles damasked o er
V. h handivv oi k of God’s o,?u fiugoi u.g.
Now wearied w*h its longing gaze on high,
Tha eve turns to the mirror broad beneath,
Where thousand worlds reflect a soothing ray
A universe of worlds above- below!
I feel an atom perched in space
While round me roll in rapid, ceaseless fl ght,
These mighty proofs of energy divine.
Author above! amidst such works as these.
How vain our pride, and what our feeble strc g h,
When side by side ’tis placed with .hat which spake
In being worlds like thesel sa - d
“Naught’s made in vain:” and lessons we may draw
F fom this! which teach that rce for ends were formed.
From von bright planet to the smallest star
That hangs for off on heaven’s most distant verge,
firiLK’'
Be active—up and doing-Jill thy s P her *\ .
All nature round us teaches this our end .
Nor doth she teach, but she doth practice too.
Her winds, her fountains, floods, forever are
In motion swift. Earth treads diurnal rounds,
And her stupendous circuit yearly sweeps.
Her Sun, the mighty monarch of the skies,
Upon his fiery chariot rides.
And ever to dependent worlds r.ew life
And vigor gives. AU, all is action here;
And while both atom small and rolling world
Give each to us the proof of usefulness,
Shall man belie the end for which he s made,
By spending here a life of sloth and ease.
Living, be a drone? dying, leave behind
No lusting footprints on the sands of time .
Not so thy life, sweet friend. Thy _modest worth
Would shun the praise of men, and to fulfill
This behest of thy God, would sileht work.
When on thee age, like night, shall softly creep,
And life’s bright sun go down in shades profound,
Theu may the world thy useful actions see
Thrice thick and bright as stars in yonder heaven,
Till dawns in splendor bright eternul day-
Though for yourself you little wish to live.
Think there ure those (and such there are)
Who feel life sweeter glide when thou art near,—
Who watch thv smile, and feel thy own hearts glad
When thine is happy too. To strew bright flowers
Along another’s path, thus cheer him ou,
Is usefulness; and to those who scatter
Comes a quiet joy which smooths his pathway too.
Then bear, sweet friend, earth’s trials and its storms,
And live for tbose who love thee.
There is still
A higher aim for which I’d have thee strive.
Than here below to cheer thy friends, or seek
For pleasures false, whioh fiud their end in time.
Earth’s joys, uncertain, short, and bound alone
By this brief life, nor fill nor satisfy
The thirst of minds immortal. Their longings
r'* n by met alone f.-nm source
From whence they sprang, and where <ne touch doth-
Which can unfold their boundless powers of joy,
And give them sure relief from all their cares.
To place, if thou has not, this source of )oy
Which never fails, within thy gentle heart,
Doth make the end for which Id have thee live.
Oh! there are depths in ocean’s coral caves
Where storms’and tempests’rage can fleer disturb;
There be some Alpine heights where eagles perch
And gaze on lightnings’ flash ’midst clouds below:
But there are depths profound in Ohristian hearts
That ne er arc reached by storms and cares without—
Hiuhts which towering rise in sunshine bright
Far o’er the clouds that roll so dark beneath.
What, then, it on life’s ocean broad no calms
To Christians come ? There is the promise sweet.
That safe shall glide their life-bark through the storm.
With more than mortal eye they see, beyond
The swelling waves, the gleam of beacon-light,
Whose steady ray illumes the tide so dark
And guides, unerring, to that haven sure
Where they may rest forever, ever more.
G. H. D., 2nd Oa. Bat,
*These thoughts were the result of an evening spent
In Southern Georgia on the banks of Little just
above its junction with the Withldcoochxe, The latter
stream passes into Florida and unites with the feuwanee.
David’s Dancing.
Dancing is the troubler of Israel. It is a
sad commentary upon the brains of mankind.
That as foolish and as unmeaning an exercise
should have taken so firm a hold upon human
beings is truly amazing. But I will not mor
alize.
The advocates of dancing, whenever they
are driven to the wall, quote David “ dancing
before the Lord,” when he carried the Ark
from the house of Obed edom. The opposers
admit it, and excuse it in David, as being a
religious exercise, and necessary upon that oc
casion. I deny its being an intelligent reli
gious exercise, or that it was necessary for
the occasion. The fact is, David was are
nowned warrior, a wise ruler, an unsurpassed
poet, but a wretched blunderer in the Ark
business. Although the law had fixed the
manner of carrying the Ark, in a plain “ thus
saith the Lord,” David seems to have been
grossly ignorant of its provisions, and in his
first attempt, instead of carrying the priests,
four of whom were to carry it upon their
shoulders, by means of the two staves, he got
up a splendid military escort of “ thirty thou
sand men, chosen men of Israel.” And then,
instead of putting it upon the priests’ shoul
ders, “ they set the God upon anew
cart, and Uzzah and Ahio drove the new cart.”
The oxen were alarmed, I take it, at the noise
of “ the all manner of instruments” which
David had played upon the occasion, (no war
rant for it whatever,) the “ new cart” shook,
and good Uzzah instinctively took hold of the
Ark, and lost his life. Thus a good man lost
his life through the criminal ignorance of Da
vid a3 to the manner of carrying the symbol
of the Divine presence. “ And David was dis
pleased, because the Lord had made a breach
upon Uzzah.” Was that the right temper ?
So ended the first effort.
David returned home, read the law upon
the subject, went back after the Ark, and sub
stantially followed instructions. But, like all
ritualists, he added many pompous things to
the simple ceremony which the Lord of hosts
had arranged. Here is a little specimen:
“ And it was so, that when they that bare the
Ark of the Lord had gone six paces, he sacri
ficed oxen and fatlings.” There was no com
mandment for this. “ And David danced be
fore the Lord with all his might.” This was
not commanded ; nor was such hard-wrought
capers either acceptable or edifying to the
Lord. “ And David was girded with a linen
ephod.” A garment for priests, and not for
kings. No wonder his wife, Michal, felt con
tempt for him. I have always agreed with
her in her views of David’s conduct upon that
occasion, that should have been a solemn one,
but he desecrated it by leading off in a dance.
“ And as the Ark of the Lord came into
the city of David, Michal, Saul’s daughter,
looked through a window, and saw King
David leaping and dancing before the Lord ;
and she despised him in her heart. Then
David returned to bless his household. And
Michal, the daughter of Saul, came out to
meet David, and said, * How glorious was the
King of Israel to day, who uncovered himself
to-day in the eyes of the handmaids of his
servants, as one of the vain fellows shame-
{s3 00 A YEAR.} FRANKLIN PRINTING HOUSE, ATLANTA GA., THURSDAY, MAY 18,1871. {s3 00 A YEAR. I
lesaly uncovereth himself.’” This was a keen
and merited rebuke, and David felt it, and
never forgave it. The dancer’s reply was
severe: “ And David said unto Michal, it was
before the Lord, which chose me before thy
father, and before all his house, to appoint
me ruler over the people of the Lord, over
Israel; therefore I will play before the Lord.”
This thrust at Michal’s family was cruel and
uncalled for, but what one might expect from
a mind excited by dancing. There is no heart
in dancing, no intellect —only leg and foot
work. David’s affirmation that it was a reli
gious exercise was fanatical, to take the most
charitable view of it. And the capering mon
arch continued : “ And I will yet be more vile
than thus, and will be base in mine own sight:
and of the maid servants which thou hast spo
ken of, of them I shall be had in honor.” In
this brief passage there is a strange compound
of fanaticism, ritualism, and amorousness. It
is said by many, that dancing is a good manu
facturer of such a compound; and I confess
that my knowledge of human nature, and what
observation I have taken, will not allow me
to contradict it. The “ King of Israel” chose
to take off his robes, “ as one of the vain fel
low s shamelessly uncovereth himself,” and
please the “maid-servants” in a dance, than
to maintain royalty and please his queen!
Well! I am a monarchist, wish to see kings
act wisely in every department of life, and I
cannot help sympathising with Michal in her
utter disgust at David’s conduct on that occa
sion, —acting like a vain, brainless fellow.
Here follows the ground upon which it is
predicated, that David’s dancing was accepta
ble to the Lord, if not commanded : “ There
fore Michal, the daughter of Saul, had no
child unto the day of her death.” It is taken
from (his, that the Lord cursed her with bar
renness. Where is the proof? Does not
the historian merely state a fact? And is it
not intimated why it was a fact ? From that
day David ceased to be an affectionate hus
band, and she being a virtuous woman, bar
renness followed. All told !
In this dancing affair, I have no malice in
my heart against David. In the whole Ark
matter, he acted wise and unwise, selfish and
unselfish, pious and fanatical, lewd and un
lewd, merciful and cruel. Great men are not
always wise. David was no common man,
and to “ dance like a vain fellow ” was not to
be expected. Michal could not, endure so
little a thing from so much brains. She knew
God had not commanded it—knew it was all
the work of fanaticism—and she deplored the
prostration of kingly dignity. From the fore
going stand point, the advocates of dancing,
by quoting David’s frolic, will get but little
comfort. H. E. T.
The Tour of Pindom, and what I Saw by
the Way—No. 3.
“Democritus did well to laugh of old;
Good cause he hud ; but now much more;
This age of ours is more ridiculous
Thau that of his, or long before.’’
—Burton on Melancholy.
1 left you, kind reader, on the banks of the
Arkansas river, making my rebel confession
to Harry. After crossing, the next non white
man I met was Z. D. Bemo,of doubtful bloo£
and parentage. He claims to be an Indian,
but they claim him not, alleging that his
father was a Spaniard and his mother a
Hitite, or some other ite. This, however,
makes no aiiterence, as “ pretty 'is an pretty
dues." I deny that Southern Christians ever
made any distinction on account of color. If
the Negro had been of noble nature, moral
and intellectual, and of industrious habits, he
would never have been our slave because of
color. Color is out of the question ; for with
us, it is the mind that makes the man, and it
is the mind also that makes the menial. This
rr.an Bemo had been under the patronage of
the Board at Marion, and was never suspected
until the war developed his perfidy. The war
never made rogues, but only developed them.
Bemo received me coolly, and I could hardly
divine the cause, though I knew he had gone
North in the latter part of the war. On
reaching the hou.se of Bro. Vann, I learned the
reason : Bro. V. told me that Bemo denied to
the Indians that I ever baptized him or or
dained him, but that Monday Durant, a/, m.
c., had perfo med these services. This he
did that he might not be dependent on a Re
bel! Pity that I ever did ! He was a Pres
byterian preacher when I baptized him, and,
unfortunately, I did not know him then as I
do now. His going North was nothing com
pared with denying his relationship to me and
the South. He denies bitterly that he ever
was Southern, when it is true that he stood
by my side in the Southern army, and boast
ed that he killed a Federal’s horse across the
Arkansas river when they were attempting to
cross that stream ! Color, I repeat, is nothing;
but the best we can do is to laugh at the fol
lies of these degenerate times; tears are all
wasted.
The next thing I saw that was very inter
esting, was %
The Lake.
Bro. Vann, my host for the third night from
home, lived upon its beautiful margin. I spent
a whole day admiring its soenery. It, too,
was an old acquaintance in day3 of yore, as
my home, for many years, was in its vicinity.
It could float the great Eastern. I never vis
ited it in my life, at any season, without see
ing numerous wild fowls swimming over its
translucent bosom. This time was a fortu
nate one. There were ducks of all kinds and
colors, pellicans, swans as white as snow, fish
hawks, and bald eagles in the air above. We
rode in a canal, in the shallower parts, with
a gig for a pole, and when we saw blubbers
rise to the surface, it was a sign' that buffalo
fish were feeding under them, and Bro. Vann
would strike with his gig in the direction in
dicated by the blubbers, and seldom failed to
gig the fish near its head. He also had hooks
baited, and tied to round gourds that floated
on the surface; and when we saw one of these
bobbing up and down, we only had to ap
proach and capture the fish. Here I saw the
renowned feats of the bald eagle. When a
fish-hawk would rise with a fish in its talon 9,
the eagle would shake its plumage, give a
wild scream, descend like an arrow shot from
a strong bow, and snatch the fish from its cap
tor. He never fished himself, but only rob
bed others. W hat an emblem I Does the
eagle ever stoop from its lofty flight to play
vulture on the battle-field ? Sometimes the
fish-hawk, if near the surface of the lake,
would drop the fish in the water, to keep the
eagle from getting it. I thought of the Con
federates burning their cotton for a similar
reason. The greatest curiosity of the lake,
however, is the indications that it is an artifi
cial one, made by a mighty people of anti
quity. None but slaves, or the subjects of
an iron rule, would accomplish so great a
work. I will give my reasons hereafter.
From the lake we went to
The Artificial Mounds.
These are a considerable distance from the
lake, and are the most gigantic 1 ever saw.
But few know where they are. I sent to the
care of Dr. Crawford, for the museum at Pen
field, a curious mug which I dug from one of
them before the war. For two months I
could get on my house and see the Federals
camped in force -near to them, and yet they
never found them. All the days of my refu
gee life 1 was concerned for those mounds,
lest they should be discovered; but here I
found them as I left them. 1 could not take
time, because of my appointments, to exam
ine them further; but some day I will, if
Providence permit. They extend for about
a mile, one close to the other, in a straight
line, up and down a river, concealed by a
dense forest of ’large trees. The trees that
grow upon them are as large as any in a river
bottom, and, because no earth is missing
around them, I infer that the mound-builders
carried the earth that made them from where
that large artificial lake now reposes on the
bosom of the broad prairie. Three genera
tions lie buried in these mounds, as is plainly
indicated by what I have seen; and yet it was
not the burying place of the builders them
selves. What a mighty city once flourished
there ! And yet its inhabitants will not heed
the sound of the screaming cars that will soon
pass near by. Just below the surface a few
leet are the skeletons of wild Indians, whose
winding blankets are not all decayed. Below
them still is the pottery of a more ancient
people; and yet lower, are vessels of more
perfect mould, like the mug I sent to Penfield.
No one has seen half way down them, and it
will be a burning shame if I do not see the
bottom when I get the time and means. The
history of this continent, of a pre-Columbine
date, is worthy of careful study ; but men of
study are not always men of means. The
worshipper of gold would pass these mounds
by without one inquiring thought of who built
them. I love the mounds,,not because they
are high andjeeautiful elevations, but because
descendants of Adam. Unknown brethren
constructed them when Columbus was a
thing of nothing—a nonentity in the womb
of Discovery.
In my next, (for it is time to "leave off,) I
will tell you of more curiosities that I saw
while making The Tour of Pindom.
11. F. Buckner.
Micco, Creel Nation.
Leaves from an Agent’s Memorandum Book.
Why does the Christian love the work of
Foreign Missions ?
1. Because Christ commanded it. Go, teach
all nations, is the last thing—the great thyig
—the only thing He gave his disciples to do.
2. Because He coupled with this work His
last great promise— Lo,lam with you alway,
even unto the end of the world. We find this
promise nowhere else. Then, in preaching
the gospel to every creature, we may expect
His blessing. The churches have so realized
it. In th's work they grew and multiplied in
primitive times. In this work they grow and
multiply in our day. We have all seen mis-,
sionary churches flourish. We have all seen
anti-missionary churches wither.
3. Because the Pentecostal preaching, the
first apostolic work after Christ’s resurrection,
—the “ beginning at Jerusalem,” —was the
proclamation of the gospel to foreigners.
God brought the nations to the apostles. God
taught the apostles their languages; and from
Rome to Mesopotamia, from Pontusto Libya
ihe gospel was preached in a day.
4. Because every soul converted outside of
Judea and Galilee has been saved through the
agency of Foreign Missions.
1 5. Because our own race would be to-day
benighted heathen, had not some foreign mis
sionary carried the gospel to the shores of
England.
6. Because we love to have the names of
our good and great honored throughout the
world. Washington, and Jackson, and Lee
are great names; but they are- little by the
side of the name Jesus. This is the name be
fore which every knee shall bow.
Fain would we sound it out so loud »
That heaven and earth might hear.
7. Because the soul of the Hindoo or Chi'-
naman is as precious iu Heaven’s scales as the
soul of an American. We are not willing to
see our sin-wrecked fellowmen perish when
we can save them by holding up a light.
8. Because the more we love the Foreign
work for Christ, the more we will love the
Home work for Christ.
9. Because if we are God’s children', we
have His disposition. God so loved the na
tions that He gave them Jesus. Surely, then,
we so love them that we will tell them of
Jesus.
10. Because in this liberal work our souls
shall be made fat in peace and usefulness on
earth, and lay up rich treasures of joy and
glory in haaven. Jno. L. Underwood.
Houston, Texas, April %Uh, 1871.
9 Diversity of Opinion.
Society owes as much to the friction of
mind, as it does to the friction of feeling.
Imagine a planet so constituted that the in
tellects of its inhabitants always reasoned
after the same fashion, and, therefore, invari
bly deduced the same conclusions. A per
fect Paradise! you exclaim. No quarrels,
no dissensions, no misunderstandings, no
wranglings with the lips or the pen; the
tongue itself deprived of all controversial
aliment, and compelled to keep the peace.
What could be more delightful!
Now, unanimity of sentiment may be very
good, in a general way, but in some respects
it would prove extremely annoying. Let us
see how the matter stands under the existing
regulations. Smith and Junes, two gentle
men who have been attending the Southern
Baptist Convention, held in St. Louis, take
passage on a steamboat bound for Memphis,
are thrown into close companionship during
the journey. Both are men of strong log
ical powers, but Smith is passionately fond of
discussion, and loves a good argument better
than an Irishman loves a Donnybrook battle.
Before long, the two open a conversation:
Ist, the weather; 2nd, the steamer; then the
weather again; then the Convention, just
closed ; and, finally, Smith lays down a prin
ciple upon which he desires to have the opin
ion of brother Jones. Jones expounds his
views at length, and Smith discovers that
they correspond in every particular with his
own. Perhaps the latter is flattered by the
coincidence, but of course he is no wiser than
he was before. He starts another topic;
some delicate question, perhaps, respecting
the Great Propitiation. Will Mr. Jones
please to say what he thinks on the impor
tant point? Jones will be very happy, and
straightway proceeds to deliver himself of
his sentiments, which prove to be identical
with those of his companion. Smith is
pleased with the circumstance, and looks upon
it as a testimony to his own genius; but
secretly he feels a little disconcerted. He is
longing for a little battle. Had his friend
differed from him here and there, with what
delight he would have fought him—amicably,
of course, until one or the other were van
quished. Smith soon takes to the arena
again. He raises the capital punishment
question, and runs through the whole stock
of reasons why all scoundrels should be
strangled. What conclusion has brother
Jones reached 1 Mr. Jones begs leave to say
that Mr. Smith has expressed his own con
victions so ably and so accurately, that he
has not a single syllable to add. Certainly, ail
scoundrels ought to be hanged. Poor Smith!
He looks like a sorely disappointed man.
Unwilling, however, to give up all hope, he
launches into some vexed question of Cal
vinism, or some other ism. There, at any
rate, he is certain to encounter conflicting
ideas. Will Jones be good enough to ex
plain his ideas on the subject of predestina
tion, or the Little Horn, or the Millennial
Kingdom? Willingly, says Jones; *nd en
tering at large into the chosen top*;, he un
folds his doctrines as elaborately*- 45 if he
were preaching to a whole nation. Smith’s
countenance grows blanker as the discourse
proceeds, for he discovers that J argu
ments tally to a hair with his Not a
link in his logic is wanting In t.iat of his
companion, but both coincide frotflf first to
last, as if the two were Siames**twins in
soul. Still Smith does not de
spair. He dashes into some diffiouL scientific
question. Are there two electricaAfluids, or
only one? Is the discharge of a cloud like
that of a Leyden phial, or a prime conductor ?
Is light corpuscular or undulal i ? Was
coal formed by drifting trees, or vegeta
tion produced on the spot? Doe-, a glacier
move as a viscous body, or drag its slow
length along upon the principle of regelat ion ?
Alas! just the same result ensues!, Jones
holds the same opinions, based upon the same
data, and supported by the san«f ;a ;
he appears, in fact, to have a dupiA-ale brain.
Smith gets wild. He looks as if “he couldn’t
stand it.” lie eschews Jones, find opens a
conversation with Jackson. Wndoes the
latter think about divers mattes —moral,
social, political, theological, me.fp. olngical ?
To his great consternation, 4ho questioner
finds that the ideas of Jackson answer to his
own with such exactitude, that they seem to
be mere echoes of his intellect. What is to
be done? Smith looks as if he were in dan
ger of going mad. He forsakes Jackson, and
experiments upon each of his feflow passen
gers in succession. But there is a miracle on
board, for every one thinks a! ke, and all
their mental operations appear 1 be precise
ly the same. Down to the very accidentals
of argument there is no more difference in
their inferences, than if the whole human
cargo had only a single intellect in common.
Let the steamer represent the world at
large, and then imagine the feehags of Smith
when he found himself embarked on a planet
where differences of opinion not ex
ist except by the wilful perversion of judg
ment, or the obstinate exclusion.of all logical
light.
There is nothing extravagant in the suppo
sition that the reasoning processes might have
been as peremptory in their character, as the
processes of arithmetic. A man might Jiave
had just the same chance, but no more, of
going astray in an aigtiment, tl at he has in
working a sum in the rule of
three. If two persons came to a different
conclusion with regard to the same set of
scientific or theological facts, it might have
been as possible to poiut out ihe mistake as
it would be had they disagreed in extracting
the square root of the same piven quantity.
But this would have made tha world a very
insipid sort of place. Constituted as man is,
we are bound to say it would not have an
swered. He is far from being an angel. He
is an imperfect creature, put to school m a
disciplinary planet, and his vocation is labor
and self-improvement. Wha# is expected of
him, is progress here, and preparation for an
hereafter. Doubtless, the di-location of the
mental faculties, like the divUion of tongues
at Babel, is a sequel to, or of,
primitive sin. But looking tj circumstances
as they exist, it is clear that if all persons
thought alike, society would *J°generate into
< stagnant expanse, where sje-* ri *>n would be
welcome,"even at the cost -of disorder and
convulsion. It is a pitiable thing to say, but
1 fear the admission must be made, that if
we had but one church, one faith, one doc
trine, and one theory on all points, all the
world over, religion would gradually decay,
and men —such as they are now —deprived of
the stimulus which conflicting idea engender,
would sink, as history proves has been the
case, into profound spiritual apathy. How
these matters are adjusted in a higher state,
of being, it is impossible to tell. But here
it often happens that human foibles, and even
human vices, are skillfully turned to account,
and compelled to minister to the great ends
for which the race was created.
Waiting for Christ.
We wait for Thee, all-glorious One!
We look for Thine appearing;
We hear Thy name, and on the throne
We see Thy presence cheering.
Faith even now
Uplitts its brow,
And sees the Lord descending,
And with Him bliss unending.
We wait for Thee, through days forlorn,
In patient self-denial;
We know that Thou our guilt hast borne
Upon Thy cross of trial.
And well may we
Submit with Thee
To bear the cross and love it,
Until Thy hand remove it.
We wait for Thee; already Thou
Hast all our heart’s submission ;
And though the Spirit sees Thee now,
We long for open vision ;
When ours shall be
Sweet rest with thee,
And pure, unfading pleasure,
And fife in endless measure.
We wait for Thee with certain hope—
The time will soon be over;
With child-like longing we look up
Thy glory to discover.
0 bliss! to share
Thy triumph there,
When home, with joy and singing,
The Lord his saints is bringing.
—From th* German.
“What is Truth.”
But a few days since I read, with much in
terest, an editorial from the Intelligencer , with
this heading. The purport of that article
had many points of interest, and could not
have failed to arrest the attention of every
one who may have read it, at the time. The
great work in which you are engaged,ys bat
tling for truth against error and wrong, to
destroy the waves of corruption which are
now overspreading the country and scattering
discord and confusion throughout every de
partment of society. Fruitless, indeed, must
be your efforts, unless public opinion can be
come thoroughly aroused as to the dangers
which are now surrounding us as individuals
and communities. It can but be a matter of
regret that society, in many respects, has be
come so corrupt that the most heinous offend
era are overlooked by the great body of the
people, while the perpetrators go unpunished
and still hold honorable position among the
best classes. The conclusion is inevitable,
that virtue, morality and religion have be
come matters of minor importance with the
populace, while vice and immorality hold
unmolested sway.- However alarming these
statements may appear to those who still
hold on to “ their integrity,” and hope that
the pure principles of truth and equity may
yet triumph, the most indifferent among us
are compelled to admit the fact, and seriously
fear the consequences. The number who
contend for error and sustain falsehood has
become so great, that those who are battling
for truth and justice are silenced amid the
elamorings of this mighty host, and well nigh
surrendered the field to the victors. A man
who attempts to expose the errors and tricks
of those who prosper by taking advantage of
communities and individuals, and to defend
truth in its broadest sense, so far from being
applauded for his virtuous deed, is persecuted
and made to feel too keenly the withering
touch of the slanderous tongue.
Now, Mr. Editor, under such an array of
facts, what have the old men to expect?
What Can we anticipate in reference to the
young who are just coming forth to enter
upon the active scenes of life? What have
we to hope for from our children, when raised
up and tutored under such demoralising influ
ences as are now perverting the whole coun
try? How can the permanency‘of our Gov
ernment be secured, and the blessing of civil
liberty perpetuated, if error and falsehood
are to be substituted for truth and religion ?
And above all, the temple j of the living
God have felt the shock, and hundreds who
worship in His sacred courts are trembling
for the results which are fast approaching.
“What l have written, I have written,”
not from resentment, but that publio opinion
may be aroused to the .dangers which are
threatening us as a people, and earnest inqui
ry be made whether these things are false or
true, and we may be induced atonoe to go to
work in fortifying ourselves against the in
roads of falsehood and deception, and build
the towers of truth so high that its vilest ene
mies may never be able to reach those who
stand upon it for protection.
An OBSERVE*.
How is It? and Why is It?
We have millions of professed Christians
in this land, yet we assume that, tried by the
standard given us—(the measure by which
they must be tested at last) —in the New
Testament, that a large portion of these pro
fessed disciples will be in great danger of
hearing the solemn words, “ depart from me,
I never knew you.”
If there is one element that stands out
more prominently than another in the Chris
tian character, as drawn from the New Tes
tament, it is that of perfect honesty and sin
cerity. There are no pretensions allowed for,
no “sham professions” admitted there.
“ Let the dead bury their dead ; follow thou
me.” If thy right hand offend, cut it off;
belter enter the kingdom of heaven maimed,
or with one eye, than with both to be lost.
These, and such as these, are the stern re
quirements of our religion.
We talk much of faith—faith historical,
faith evangelical; but the New Testament
tells us plainly, that he that believeth shall
be saved, and he that believeth not shall be
damned. Now to the questions, How is it?
Do we believe all that is written in that
Book—believe it certainly and assuredly ?
Can we say, with a consciousness that we
speak in the ear of the Searcher of all hearts,
who knows our thoughts, and is not mocked,
or deceived, that we do believe it all ? If so,
how is it that we make our religion a second
ary thing, our worldly affairs the primary
matter? How is it, that in all the land, and
in all the churches of the land, we find so
much of conformity to the world, so little
transforming by the renewal of the Spirit,
into the image of Jesus—that is, so little
conformity of Christian life, to that of the
Great Master?
Do we really, in the unquestioning spirit
of a little child, believe that God has revealed
Himself in Christ Jesus? That He has ex
hibited His real love—love beyond all our
conceptions of love—love only like God the
Father, and incomprehensible to us—by giv
ing, in fact, His only begotten Son, that who
soever believeth in Him might not perish,
but should have eternal life? Do we really,
with all our hearts, believe that this is the
manifestation of God presented to us by the
wonderful story of the life of Jesus, aud that
he is our Father, and as such, loves, in a real
sense, as the words import, Ilis children-'
man, His creature, as much as the giving of
an only Son to suffer and die, to attract man’s
attention his Heavenly Father’s real feeling,
so to speak, towards him as an erring crea
ture, who had learned to be estranged from
that Father, and to feel, everywhere, and at
all limes, that God did not love him?
“ Do we really feel the deep significance
of that manifestation of ” Godin Christ Jesus,
or the gift of His Son to die for us, and that
it means that our Father i3 seeking U 9, and
calling on us to come back to Him, and be a
part of His living, trusting family—having
faith, or better, as I think, trust in Him, con
fiding all to Him, knowing that He careth for
us? We awfully fear that but few of us
realize consciously the assurance of the truth,
absolute truth, of these facts, as facts; not
simply parts of a creed, or parts of a the
ological system.
We feel that if we did realize all this, as a
part of our conscious life, that we would not
live so far away from God our Father. That
the large portion of our church members
would not be afraid or ashamed to approach
God, and present their wants to such a Father,
or to do what He has told them to do —pray
to Him—asking the Holy Spirit, knowing
that He is more willing to give the Holy
Spirit to them that ask Him, than earthly
parents to give good gifts to their children.
I can’t see how we can solemnly, conscious
ly, with perfect truth and sincerity, affirm,
we believe all the facts referred to, and yet
not feel, day by day, ampler, more profound
gratitude, aud love, and trust, and joy in be
lieving them, than we see exhibited in the
every day, and (Sunday, too,) life of our pro
fessed Christians.
We are much impressed with the view, that
much of our Christianity is a simple creed
assented to, not facts believed. That we as
sent to the creed, with or without examina
tion, but that the facts which are its basis,
upon which it rests, are not contemplated, or
made the objects of our faith. We may
know of the doctrine whether it be of God,
by doing what Christ commands us. Do we
believe this? If so, why do we rest in un
certamty on a matter involving all of that
awful future designated by us by the word
eternity ?
I sometimes feel that our preachers over
look the ideas intended to be suggested in
what is said above, and address themselves
to the exposition of our creed, or systems of
doctrine, too much, to the neglect of the vital
facts of tho gospel, that have power to trans
form the man, when believed, by the aid of
the Holy Spirit, into anew creature in Christ
Jesus, and make us what we ought to be —a
peculiar people, zealous of good works, in
stead of zealous in trade and traffic, and lay
ing up treasures on earth, not in heaven, as
we are commanded to do by the Master.
Why is it, that we go on year by year in
our churches, and the preacher preaches, or
does what he calls preaching—for much of it,
is mere essaying, or essay reading—and pray
ing to God, as we call the petitions spoken
from the pulpit to the Lord, and hardly hear
of a single man or woman brought to the
knowledge of Jesus? I have sat or kneeled,
and heard a great deal of praying in life, and
really think, that if the Lord should answer,
literally, the larger portion of it, and actually
give what is asked by the petitioner, that
there would be the most astonished, and as
tounded set of men on the earth, seen in our
pulpits? They wouldn’t begin to understand
it, and some of them, if the answer should
come immediately after one of their sermons,
would feel sure that their sermon had done
the work. Yet- all this praying is done by
professed believers. It certainly is a solemn
thing, to stand up before men, and urge men
to believe on and in Christ, yet not- be able
to stand the test ourselves, and believe any
thing He has said, except, perhaps, that
somehow, He will save us. Yet we awfully
fear that this is the full measure of the faith
of most of our Christians—preacher* and
laymen.
Nevertheless, when the Son of Man cora
eth, shall be find faith oa the earth ? is a fear
ful question, and one that each of us should
deeply ponder, and as honest men and wo
men, be sure and settle it for ourselves, at
least.
This is written on the principle that Bishop
Hall, perhaps it was, said £e taught Chris
tianity, that he might learn it. And the
writer may add, that he feels the force of the
rebuke, or admonition implied in it nil, as
keenly as any one, and hopes that, by calling
his brethren’s attention to the fact, he may
be helped, and strengthened, and built up in
bis own faith. Yfe believe, Lord help our
unbelief, is a prayer that ought, we think, to
be prayed by all of us, not said simply, as
most of our prayers are uttered.
Layman.
The Three Songs.
The shepherds of Israel, tending their docks
by day and by night, on tire plains and hill
sides of Judea—far removed from the sooth
ing influences of home, often lone and drear
—not unfrequently reverted to the promises
of God for consolation and succor. Doubt
ing, hoping, fearing, yet ever rejoicing in the
expectancy of a ooming Messiah, they labored,
and watched, and prayed.
The firmament dazzled with its myriads of
shining worlds, nature slept in repose of mid
winter, the bark of the faithful dog broke the
stillness of the hour, its echoes dying away
amid the far-off peaks of the sacred mo’un
tains, yet nothing indicated the event ap
proaching, when “ the angel of the Lord came
unto the men ‘abiding in the field,’ saying
unto them
“Fear not, for behold, I bring you good
tidings of great joy, which, shall be to all the
people; for unto you is born this day, in the
city of David, a Saviour, which is Christ the
Lord.”
The shepherds not startled, neither awe
stricken by the appearance of the winged
messenger, listened with sweet complacency.
Still in the attitude of reverential observers,
to hear and see some of the revelation from
on high, the heavens in an instant seemed
luminous with glory, and suddenly there ap
peared with “the angel a multitude of the
heavenly ho9t praising God, and saying:
“ Glory to God in the highest, and on earth
peace and good will toward men.”
Since the morning stars sang together, such
music had not regaled the ears of man. It
was the song of the angels who have no part
in the redemption, but who ever delight in
the progress of heavenly good. It was the
song of peace in the gospel.
Thirty-three years subsequent to this man
ifest joy of the angels at the birth of our
Saviour, there was another song—sung by
the multitudes of men, women and children
that went before and followed His triumphant
entery into Jerusalem.
“ Hosanna to the Son of David,” shouted
in ecstasy of joy ; “ blessed i9 He that com
eth in the name of the Lord. Hosannah in
the highest!” As He came nearer, some
“ spread their garments in the way, others
cut down branches from the trees, and strewed
them in the way,”—according to an ancient
custom in the East, on public occasions, when
kings, or national ambassadors entered into
the cities. Joy filled the air, for the promised
King of Israel had publicly showed Himself
to,the nation as the Messiah. More than five
hundred years before, the prophet Zechariah
wrote about this event:
“Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion,”
said he; “shout, O daughter of Jerusalem,
behold, thy King cometh unto thee; He is
just, and having salvation ; lowly, and riding
upon an ass, and upon a colt, the foal of an
ass.”
The remembrance of this divinely inspired
prophecy, connected with its fulfillment in
the presence of them, brought heaven and
divinity to earth, as some had long desired
to behold it. The realization found its
piest expression in the loud hosannahs which
almost rent the skies.
But there was another, under entirely dif
ferent perspective, or rather, there is to be
another ; and who of us, while life and privi
lege are ours, will not fit our voices to sing
in the choir whose song of praise never ceases ?
All can, All should. Then, why not all
try ?
John, the disciple whom Christ loved, was
on the barren and rugged island of Patmos,
friendless, homeless, in exile. Not a sprig
of grass, not the music of a waterfall, not
the sound of human voice, no fruitful plains
nor shaded slopes, struck his senses, to be
guile the tedium of banishment. But God,
who is ever good, blessed his surroundings to
the exaltation of the cause of Christ, and the
comfort of the man.
John had visions upon which the eye of
his soul feasted, and upon which he hung lest
the removal would dissever the link which
bound him to the Father and Son. In the
one, he saw iu the right hand of him that sat
on the throne, a singular book, written with
out and within. Who could open it—who
was worthy to break its seals? was solicit
ously asked. The Lamb who was in the
midst of the throne, and of the four beasts,
and in the midst of the elders. When the
seal dropped and the book came open, the
eager multitude, silently gazing on, broke
forth in rapturous strains :
“ Thou art worthy to take the book, and
to open the seals thereof; for thou wast slain
and hast redeemed us to God by thy blood,
out of every kindred, and tongue, and people,
and nation ; and hast made us unto one God,
kings aud priests, and we shall reign in the
earth.”
Enough! enough ! Sinner, can't you take
Christ as your Saviour? Will you not?
Your soul yearns for Him. Accept Him.
There is peace in believing. Only exer
cise it. Now, will you not, now? Chris
tians would have you join the innumerable
multitude in the song of eternal redemption.
Now is the time. Let it slip, and you are
shut out. Oh! let it not be. C. S.
Are You Doing It?
During a conversation with a pastor well
known as one wise in winning souls, 1 asked
him the secret of his success. After a mos
ment’s pause he answered, “Come to our
meeting to-night and you shall know.” I
went, and found it indeed a prayer meeting.
Perhaps twenty prayers were offered by as
many brothers and sisters, yet not one failed
to remember the beloved pastor. It seemed
that every blessing in God’s storehouse was
invoked upon his head. Here was indeed a
revelation; here was the secret of that pas
tor’s power with God and man.
Brother, perhaps your pastor is unsuccess
ful, his sermons may be dry, or he has no
power in the meeting of prayer, his faith
weak or love cold. Do you pray for him—
not once but unceasingly? Do you often
implore the Holy Spirit to anoint him for
his work ? Think of the duties be has to
perform! His it is to pray with the sick, to
comfort the mourning, to lead the inquirer,
rouse the impenitent, instruct the Christian,
to be “all things to all men.” Can mortal
man do all this? But by the grace of God.
Then will you not pray for your pastor?
*1 beseech you, brethren, for the Lora Jesus
Christ's sake, and for the love of the Spirit,
that ye strive together with me in your
prayers to God for me.*— Chris. Era.
WHOLE NO. 2540.
T.fW on.
00, labor on; spend and be spent;
Thy joy to do thy Father’s will.
It is the way the Master went;
Should not the servant tread it still t
Go, labor oil; ’tfs not for nought ■
Tbv earthly loss is heavenly gain. .
Mon heed thee, love thee, praise thee not;
The Master praises -what are men ?
Go. labor on: enough, while here,
If He should praise thee, if He deign
Thy Willing heart to mark and oheer,
No toil for Him ahall be in vain.
Go, labor on ; your hands are weak.
Your knees are faint, your soul caat down;
Tet falter not, the prize yon seek
Is wear—a kingdom and a crown.
Go. labor on while it is day,
The world's dark night is hasting on;
Speed, spred thy work, cast sloth away,
It is not thus that souls are won.
Men die in darkness at your side,
Without s hope to cheer the tomb ;
Take up the torch and wave it wide—
The torch that lights time’s thickest gloom.
Toil on, feist not, keep watch and pray;
Be wise the erring soul to win;
Go forth into the world’s highway,
Compel the wanderers to oome in.
Toil on, and in thy toil rejoice;
For toil comes rest, for exile home;
Soon shalt thou diear the bridegroom’s voice,
The midnight peal, “ Behold I cornel”
The Last Judgment.
The following lines were written in the
journal of Madame Moindron, a short time
before her marriage, and dated May 8,1861:
*, When I shall have lain for a time in the
tomb, God will call me with a loud voice, ‘So
phie!’ and I shall answer, ‘ Here am I, Lord.’
Then I shall arise, and 1 shall see multitudes
standing before God, who will be seated on
a dazzling cloud with a very great book in
His hand. He will command me to stand
before Him, then He will turn over the leaves
of the great book, until He comes to a page
on the top of which is written, ‘Sophie
Dowdney.’ On that page God has written
all the sins that I have committed, and it is
full, quite full. But when God wishes to read
it, He will not be able. He will find noth
ing whatever. This will not be because I
have never done wrong, have never commit
ted sin; on the contrary, I have done much
evil, and I have committed many, many sins;
but I have besought the Lord Jesus Christ,
anjd He has taken the book out of the hands
of His Father, and He has suffered the blood
to flow from the wound made by the nail in
the palm of His hand. Then He has passed
Ilis bleeding hand over this page, and when
God would read my sins, He cannot sec them.
He can only see the blood of His Son. Not
being able to prove anything against me, God
will close the book, and the Lord Jesus will
come and say to His Father, ‘That is my
Sophie.’ Then He will embrace me in
His arms, and conduct me gently into the
midst of the angels, where I shall remain
while mankind are being judged.”
In Christ.
Let me hear, when I am on my death-bed,
that Christ died in the stead of sinners, of
whom I am chief; that He was forsaken of
God, during these fearful agonies, because lie
had taken my place; that on His cross I paid
the penalty of my guilt. Let me hear, too,
that His blood cleanseth from all sin, and that
1 may now appear before the bar of God, not
as'pardoned only, but innocent. Let me
realize the great mystery of the reciprocal
substitution of Christ and the believer, or
rather, their perfect unity, He in them, they
in Him, which He has expressly taught; and
let me believe that as I was in effect crucified
on Calvary, He will in effect stand before the
throne in my person, His the penalty, mine
the sin ; His the shame, mine the glory ; His
the thorns, mine the crown ; His the merits,
mine the reward. Verily thou shalt answer
for me, O Lord, my Redeemer. In Thee I
put my trust. In Thee have I trusted; let
me never be confounded. —Bishop Le Jeune.
How the Christian Grows.
There were two words, spelled alike in the
old writers, which bore meanings strangely
unallied. To “battle” was, in one connection,
“to be nourished ;” in another, “ to contend
in fight.” What thoughts lie more widely
apart ?
These thoughts strike hands, these meanings
mingle into one, in the case of the Christian.
He is “ nourished up in the words of faith and
of good doctrine,” only in proportion as he
has “ fought a good fight.” His soul grows
“strong in the Lord and in the power of His
might,” just to the extent to which he has
shown himself “ valiant for the truth upon
the earth has grasped firmly and wielded
daily the weapons of that warfare which is
not carnal. The Christian fighting against the
world, the flesh, and the devil, is the Christian
nourished by perpetual fresh supplies of
grace. Oh, we are weak because we have
not approved ourselves to God as good sol
diers. We must first contend against our
spiritual foes, must dispute anew the fields on
which they have vanquished U 9, if we would
be strengthed more. Strength will come to
us in the conflict—not without it—not before.
“A Terrible Unrest.”
A student in one of our public schools, in
an evening prayer meeting recently, used
these strong and almost thrilling words : “I
pray that God will give me a terrible unrest
on behalf of my impenitent and dying fellow
men ?”
The universal fault of the church is its leth
argy over those who are perishing in sin. A
reasonable prospei ity externally, a moderate
growth, or a firm holding of the church’s
own, satisfies the great masses of Christian
people, and they sleep over the state of those
who are going down speedily to death. The
mission of the church is aggressive. It is to
reach out after the lost. It is to put forth
special effort for their salvation. Nay more
—it is to feel the solicitude of an intense
anxiety for their eternal safety. When a
a friend is burning with fever, and the crisis is
just at hand ; when a great sorrow swings in
equipoise, and a breath may turn the scale ;
when great results are hanging on a thread,
there is more than a common interest; there
is an awful suspense which almost checks the
beating of the heart, and bids the pulses stand
still. What more momentous issues hang
on the salvation of a human soul ?
O for a “terrible unrest” which shall wake
the church’s torpor and send it forth with the
impulse of love to Christ, and love to men,
to labor for souls.
Gkntlsmaiu.ineßß. —A Christian is God’s
gentleman ; a gentleman, in the vulgar, su
perficial way of understanding the word, is
the devil’s Christian. But to throw aside
these polished and too current counterfeits for
something valuable aDd sterling, the real gen
tleman should be gentle in everything, at
least, in everything that depends on himself,
—in’ carriage, temper, constructions, aims,
desires. He ought, therefore, to be n>jld,
calm, quiet, even, temperate,—not hasty in
judgment, not exorbitant in ambition, not
overbearing, not proud, not rapacious, not
oppressive; for these things are contrary to
gentleness. Many such gentlemen are to be
found, I trust; and many more would be, were
the true meaning of the name borne in mind
and duly inculoated.— Hare,