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CHRISTIAN INDEX Am, .jOI/HI-WESTERN BAPTIST. VOL. 50—NO. 20. A. RELIGIOUS AND FAMILY PAPER, PUBLISHED WEEKLY IN ATLANTA,OA AT $3.00 PER ANNUM, Invariably in Advance. J. J. TOON, proprietor.^ 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,