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THE BAPTIST BANNER.
A a, s«®i ka i ® waif £ j&lOu
BY JAS. N. ELLS & CO.
VOL. IV.
ghpttirt gawswr,
DEVOTED TO RELIGION AND LITERATURE,
Is published every Saturday, at Atlanta, Georgia, at the
subscription price of three dollars per year.
JAMES N. ELLS i CO.,
Proprietors.
Jas. N. Ells. 8. D. Niles. A. K. Seago.
ALL’S FOR THE BEST
All’s for the best! be sanguine and cheeiful,
Trouble and sorrow are friends in disguise,
Nothing but folly goes faithless and fearful—
Courage forever is happy and wise.
All’s for the best—if a man would but know it,
Providence wishes us all to be blest;
This is no dream of the pundit or poet,
Heaven is gracious and—All’s for the best!
All’s for the best! set this on your standard,
Soldiers of sadness, or pilgrims of love,
Who to the shores of despair may have wander’d,
A way-wearied swallow or heart-stricken dove.
All’s for the best!—be a man, but confiding,
Providence tenderly governs the rest,
And the frail bark of His creatures is guiding
Wisely and warily, all for the best.
All’s for the best! then fling away terrors,
Meet all your foes and your fears in the van,
And in the midst of your dangers or errors
Trust like a child, while you strive like a man.
All’s for the best! unbiased, unbounded,
Providence reigns from the East to the West;
And, by both wisdom and mercy surrounded,
Hope and be happy that all’s for the best!
KATE ARNOLD.
JTMTAT Kate Arnold was a rare beauty
I none could deny ; but it was almost
impossible to say in what her beauty con- j
sisted. The flashing eyes, the glowing ;
cheek, the dimpled mouth, all mirrored her |
pure and guileless soul. But it was in the ;
ever-varied expression of her countenance,
like the changing tints of the kaleidoscope, ,
that her charms lay. Iler face was the in- < (
dex of her heart, open and unsuspecting. The ]
only child of a widowed father, “the child t
of his old age,” she was the idol of his c
lieart. Iler endowments of nature were <
all she possessed, for their means were too v
limited to admit of her acquiring those va- |
rious accomplishments now cotisUero.J so v
important in female education. The crown- c
ing gem of woman’s character —piety—she ,
possessed in an eminent degree. In the |
bloom of youth, ere her heart had become |
tainted with the atmosphere of a sinful
world, she had dedicated herself to the ser- |
vice of that God of whom she had been f
taught, by her sainted mother and her ven- ,
erated father. ;
They lived in a small village, on the |
banks of the. “ blue Juniata,” where Mr. (
Arnold acted in the humble capacity of ,
teacher in the village school. Os course
his rev' line was very small. Kate was an ,
affectionate housekeeper, and her buoyant .
disposition smoothed over “ the trifling ,
cares” so vexing to most persons. “The
path of sorrow” was fast opening to poor
Kate’s hitherto untried footsteps. Intense
application to his duties had injured her fa
-11,,.r s eyes, which were never very strong,
and he began to fear tin is me.
One evening, as Kate was moving lightly
about, preparing her father’s supper, and
singing blithely as a i»ird tor she had a
most sweet voice, h’l eit n <t a cultivated
one), she was star I -d by a sigh which
came from the depths of her father’s heart..
Instantly the song was hushed, and, going
to her father, she knelt by his side, and,
smoothing his locks, on which the snows of
old age were falling fast, she said : “ Father,
dear,"what troubles you? I have always
been the sharer of your joys; do let me
also share your sorrows.’
“Mv darling child, my heart is Idled
with grief; my eyes are failing fast, and 1
fear that soon the ‘blackness of darkness
will obscure nn vision."
“Oh, think not so, dear father! Cheer
up, and let us not. anticipate evil.”
It is onlv for your sake, my Kate, that
I tear. Who will take care of and shelter
you, an«l provide for your sustenance?”
Kate's face lost its animation as her fa
ther spoke thus sadly of their future, and
she burst into tears and wept long and un
restrainedly. At length, a gleam of sun
shine passed over her face, and with wo
man’s faith she exclaimed ; lie who feed
eth the ravens, and knoweth when a spar
row falleth to the ground,’ will surely pro
tect us from the wintry blasts of poverty.”
“ Heaven bless you, my daughter! In
der the heavy burdens which oppresses me.
1 had well nigh forgotten the source of our
mail' blessings. Let us thank Him for
His mercies past, and trust Him for the fu
tU After jheir frugal meal, Mr. Arnold rev
erently returned thanks for their many mer
cies and after imploring divine protection
nud guidance in their try ing circumstances,
the father and daughter separated for the
' In'one night Kate Arnold seemed to have
lived a whole existence. Her joyous look
hid when place to a thoughtful and earnest
expression, and a high and noble resolve
shone in her eye.
.. Mi dear child, said Mr. Arnold, after
the morning greetings were over, “you
look as though some important idea were,
Minerva like, to spring from your brain.”
“ I am glad, dear father, to hear that I
> have even tha appearance of brains, as they
will be much needed in what 1 am about to
undertake,” she answered, playfully ; “ but,
as you truly observe, an important idea
■ has chased ‘ balmy sleep’ from my eyelids.
It ; s, that you relinquish your duties, which
are impairing your health and sight, and
accept as a substitute Miss Kate Arnold,
spinster. Now, do not say nay,” seeing
I he was about to speak, “ for, 1 when a wo
man will, she will.’ Should your eyes im
prove, I will, in turn, accept you as my
substitute.”
“ I can not bear, Kate, for you, my only
one, to be immured in a school-room day
after day, instead of enjoying the sunshine
which your youth demands.”
“ Well, but just try me,” urged Kate. —
“ I have weighed the matter well, and if
you'refuse me, I will devise some other
means of self-support. I will not see you
thus wasting away for my sake.”
The expression of firmness and determ'
nation which lighted up her fine face c!
her look as one inspired ; and so sh .v; s
—inspired with a filial love which .ouki
surmount all obstacles. She obtained her
father’s consent, after much pleading.
With a light and buoyant step did Kate
Arnold bound along the path which led to
the village school ; and though at first there
was some rebellion among the boys at
the idea of a woman teaching them, yet
her firmness subdued them ; and her amia
ble and loving manners soon won all
hearts. Each day found her more and
more devoted to the heaven inspired task ;
nor did she neglect her manifold duties at
home. Iler father’s heart was bound up
in her life. Could We blame him if some
thing like idolatry mingled with his feel
ings ?
Gradually the veil fell over Mr. Arnold’s
sight, till at length that most precious of :
all senses was lost to him. Poor Kate! —
How heavy was the blow ! But she knew
the finger of her God had closed the vision
of her father’s orbs, and she murmured, (
“ Not my will, but Thine, be done.” It ,
was a touching sight to see the old man |
leaning upon his beloved child, as they t
went to the house ol God, or to wawii
on a summer evening, beneath the jasmine i
that clambered over the door, as Kate, in <
her rich, full tones, read to him from the j
Book of Life.
Two years dragged their monotonous <
length along, but Kate bore up nobly un- i
der her self-imposed duty. At last she be- <
gan to droop. Her step lost its buoyancy,
and the roses on her cheek began to fade. ;
It was well that the blind old man, now’ in <
the twilight of his life, knew’ not that the
morning of her life was clouded over. It
would have been the bitterest drop in the
cup of his sorrow. Her voice to him was
as cheerful, her attentions as devoted, as
ever, and he dreamed not that the canker
was in the heart of the rose.
Mr. Arnold's frame, never very strong,
gave way under the, inactive life he was
leading, and his heavy misfortune preyed
upon his mind. His devoted daughter
watched, with deepest sorrow, the gradual
decay of her father’s faculties.
One Sabbath, after Kate had read the
twenty-third Psalm, that heart-touching
jand yet heart-soothing song of David, they
sat for awhile in sad and solemn silence.—
At length Mr. Arnold said : “ Dear Kate.
1 feel that I must soon tread ‘the valley of
shadows.” My thoughts lately turn ever
upward to that blessed land where ‘ the
weary are at rest.' The scales shall fall
from these now sightless orbs, and I shall
forever bask in the sunlight of my Saviour’s
presence. My affliction has proved a
• blessing in disguise,’ and tfle eve of mv
soul can reach beyond this fleeting life, into 1
that bright, and heavenly land when* there'
shall be no more night.”
Mr. Arnold spoke w ith prophetic 1 ps ;
for in a few dais In* was taken to his bed.
from which he never arose. A gradual
“loosing of the silver cord," and thw “ gol
den bowl was broken." His last prayer'
was for his beloved child. Kate was j
heaven-sustained throughout the trying
scene, and when all was over a reaction '
took place. Like a lily before a storm she
drooped. All those deep and tender affec
tions which only a woman’s heart possesses
were lavished upon her father, and her last
and only tie to earth was broken.
A month from the day on which her fa
ther breathed his last. Kate Arnold’s brief'
career was closed. Her last words were:
“1 know in winm I have believed;” and
the seraphic smile that illumined her fea
tures, as her ransomed spirit took its flight,
attested the truth of the exclamation.
A simple stone marks the spot where
1 irst the ashes ot this devoted father and
, daughter, with the oft-written but always
‘ beautiful inscription, “They were lovely:
and pleasant in their lives, and in death
« they were not divided."
; -
t Men can not expect that God will mind
• those prayers u hieh they do not mind them
selves; or that He w ill open His ears to
r those who are not serious before Him and
i with Him. 1
HIS BANNER OVER US IS LOVE.
ATLANTA, GEORGIA, MARCH 7, 1863.
. NATIONAL DISTRUST OF GOD.
Before the death of Joshua, he divided
the land of Canaan, by lot, among the chil
dren of Israel, according to their tribes.—
After his death, the tribe of Judah was the
first that attempted to reduce to possession
the territory which had fallen to it as an
inheritance. The sacred writer records its
partial success in this enterprise. The Ca
naanites who dwelt among the mountains
were expelled from the country, but there
was no expulsion of the Canaanites who
dwelt in the valleys. “ And the Lord was
with Judah; and he drove out the inhabi
tants of the mountain ; but could not drive
out the inhabitants of the valley, because
they had chariots of iron.” (Jud. i:T9.)
Here rises a very important question :
If the Lord was indeed with Judah, why:
could not Judah drive out the inhabitants
of the valle ? Why could he not do it,
with the Almighty to strengthen him? To!
this ques on the sacred writer furnishes no
direct answer. We must seek the answer:
by a comparison of Scripture with Scrip
ture. And this comparison we attempt for
the sake of the vital principle it brings to i
light.
First of ail, we turn to an incident in the
ministry of the Lord Jesus. On one occa
sion two blind men followed him, crying,;
“Thou Son of David, have mercy on us.” I
He questioned them as to their trust in II is i
power. He inquired whether they believ
ed that lie was abb* to restore their sight.
And when they profess d to believe this,
He touched their eyes, saying, “According!
to your faith be it unto you.” Thereupon ■
their eyes were opened. (Matt, ix: 27—31.)
Now, if we may deduce a principle from
this occurrence, the principle clearly is—
that God’s mighty power towards men is ex- 1"
ercised in proportion, to their faith in that
power.
We turn, next, to another event of equal 1
significance in our Lord’s ministry. I lei
paid, at one time, in the course of His teach
ing, a visit to His own immediate country.
He proclaimed the doctrines of the king
dom of heaven in the synagogues of Naza-1
reth. But He encountered scepticism.— i
Because His mother, and brethren and sis-:
ters were known to the people—because !
nr sprang out, ot <pove tut o«lsem*e lamiiy
in their midst—they were offended at His
claim to be recognized as a teacher senr
from God. And “ lie did not many mighty
works there, because of their unbelief.” —
(Matt, xiii : 53—58.) Now, if this narra
tive can be regarded as supplying us with
a principle, what principle lies in it? Ob
viously—that God’s mighty power toward
men is restrained in proportion to their want
of faith, in that power.
We turn, again, to a fact embraced in
the account left us of Christ’s original disci-,
pies. While on the earth, He sent them
forth to “ the lost sheep of the house of Is
rael,” that they might publish the truth
with sanction and authority by the perform-:
ance of miracles. “He gave them poweri
against unclean spirits to east them out.”j
His commission to them required the exer
cise of that power. Here then was a prom
ise and a pledge that the Lord would be i
with them, and qualify them for this work.)
Many times was this pledge and promise
fulfilled. But at length there came to them
a father w hose son was sore vexed by an
unclean spirit. Under the influence of that
spirit, oft the unhappy youth fell into the
fire, and oft into the water. The father be
sought them to cast it out. They essayed
to do so—and could not. No : they could
not! Their Master afterwards did it.—
And when they inquired of Him why they
had been incompetent to perform the work,
11 is answer was, “Because of your unbe
lief.” (Matt, xvii : 14—21.) This fact in
dicates the inflexibility with which God ad-
I heres to the principles already ascertained,
i He will always exercise His mighty power
toward men according to their faith ; will
■always restrain it according to their want ol
faith. Noteven His commission, noteven
: His pledge, will induce Him to deal other
wise with us. His promises invariably
I proceed on this conditioi>— that we trust
! them. They are performed just so far as
I we have faith : where we yield to unbelief,
• just there they fall to the ground.
With the help of the principles establish
ed by these Scriptural statements, we can
i easily explain the failure of Judah, though
the Lord was with him, to “drive out the
inhabitants of the valley, because they had
chariots of iron.”
When Judah undertook to gain posses-
Ision of the territory allotted to him, “the
Lord said, Judah shall go up; because I
have delivered the land into his hand.”—
Here was a word of God respecting the
whole inheritance of the tribe. It was a
promise of triumph over the inhabitants ot
the mountain, who were formidable because
lof their position: for mountains are na
ture's fortresses, and those who entrench
upon them and guard the defiles leading to
their heights, are dislodged with great difli
■ culry even by superior forces. It was
I equally a promise of triumph over the in
habitants of the valley, who were formida
ble because of their weapons: far they
fought w ith chariots, having scythes of iron
fastened to the yokes of the animals that
drew them and in the axles of the w heels.
inflicting terrible slaughter when driven vi
olently into the ranks of a hostile army.—
i Here, we repeat, was a word of God—an
occasion for the exercise of faith—a temp
tation to the indulgence of unbelief. Was,
then, unbelief indulged or faith exercised
by Judah, in connection with this word of
God ?
Ihe tendency of the nation was towards
unbelief, with regard to those chariots of
iron. Ihus, when Joshua allotted a portion
to the children of Joseph, they complained
that the hill country allotted in it was not
enough for them, and that all the Canaan
ites who dwelt in the valley had chariots
of iron. They despaired of overcoming
those who fought with these scythe-winged
chariots, intimated that the land of the val
ley could not therefore fall into their hands,
and murmured as though they were neces-
Isarily shut up within the hill-country. This
! was unbelief—was distrust of the Lord’s
promise and power to make the whole of
! Palestine the inheritance of His people.—
i It is likely that the same lack of confidence
in God fell on the tribe of Judah, and lived
iin it. And it so, no wonder that they fail
ed to expel the enemies whom they feared
. more than they trusted Jehovah. No won
der : for the Lord was with Judah’s faith,
not with Judah’s unbelief. No wonder:
■for the Lord never works together with un
belief, while He never fails to work togeth
;er with faith. No wonder: when Christ’s
commissioned disciples, while unbelieving,
could not perform the very wonders which
He sent them forth with power to do. No
wonder: when Christ himself, visiting a
people of unbelief, wrought not many mir-j
acles in their midst on that account.
Such is the answer to the important
question we have been weighing, which is
.placed in our hands by the comparison of
Scripture with Scripture. While Judah
exercised faith, he drove out.the inhabitants
of the mountain : for then the Lord helped
him! When Judah indulged unbelief, he
could not drive out the inhabitants of the
valley: for then the Lord helped him not!
Now, may we not fall, as < hristian peo
ple, into this self-same error ? We are as
sailed by a powerful and implacable ene
my. Dangers hem us in on every side.—
We need the help of God. Shall we have
... . :sa - 1 --'-‘n* -.
cause is a promise and pledge that “ the
Judge of all the earth,” whose property it
has ever been to “do right,'’ will stretch
out His arm for our deliverance. Let us
fly, then, to the protection of that arm,
plead for it in the agony of prayer, and re
ly on it with immovable trust. If we do
this—we who fear the name of the Lord—
it cannot be that lie will cast us off in the
hour of our peril. But unbelief will ask,
Have not nations, whose cause was right
eous, nevertheless, been crushed beneath
the iron hoof of despotism ? We answer,
unhesitatingly, yes. However, our persua
sion abides undisturbed that never was there
a people overthrown who had a righteous
cause, unless where Christians restrained the
exercise of God's mighty power on their be
h :tj ’■/ want of faith in that power. Here
let us stand, and “ the Captain of the Lord’s
hosts Jesus, “whose right it is” to
reign—will trample down our foes before
us, roll back the flood of war, an I cause the
land to rejoice in a “speedy, just and hon
orable peace.”
%«iam Clarke <»n Dancing.
I 1. ng resisted all solicitations of this en
joyment, but at last allowed myself to be
overcome. I grew passionately fond of it.
And low I lost the spirit of subordination,
did not love work, imbibed a spirit of idle
ness, and, in short, drank in all the brain
sickening effluvia of pleasure. Dancing
and company took the place of reading and
study ; the authority of my parents was ■
feared but not respected, and few serious |
impressions could prevail in a mind imbued ;
with frivolity. et 1 entered into no dis-!
reputable assembly, and in no case kept j
imi roper company. Nevertheless dancing J
"as to me a perverting influence, an un- :
mixed moral evil. 1 consider it a branch
of that worldly education which leads from j
heaven to earth, from things spiritual to
thin's sensual, and from God to Satan.—
Let them plead for it who will, I know it to
be evil and only evil. “No mau in his
senses would dance,” said Cicero, a heathen.
Shame, then, on those Christians who advo
cate a cause by which many sons have be
come profligate, and many daughters have
been ruined.
Is not the mind of childhood the tender
est, holiest thing this side of heaven ? Is it
not to be approached with gentleness, with >
love—yes, with a heart-worship of the great I
God from whom, in almost angel innocence,!
it has proceeded? A creature undeliled by
the taint of the world—unvexed by its in- :
justice—unwearied by its hollow pleasures. ;
A being fresh from the source of light, !
w ith something of its universal lustre in it. ‘
If childhood be this, how holy the duty to!
see that, in its onward growth, it shall be ’
no other! —to stand as a watcher at the
temple, lest any unclean thing should en-;
ter it.
You may go to heaven w ithout riches, I
prospi rity, or health ; but you can not go ,
there without Christ, faith and holiness. 1
TERMS — Three Dollars a-year.
Ananias’ Visit Io Paul.
Fashionable religion differs widely from
the simple and earnest religion of the New
Testament; and when the two are brought
into direct contrast, one is struck forcibly
by the unlikeness. Mr. Grubner, an ec
centric Methodist preacher in Maryland,
once attempted to show* this contrast, in a
sermon on the conversion of Saul of Tarsus.
He described the visit of Ananias to the
blind and penitent persecutor, and one may
recognize in the sketch a style of visiting
not unknown in our day. Ananias, who
resided at Damascus, was made to represent
the velvet-lipped modern preacher. He
thus introduced the subject:
A great many years ago a bold blasphe
mer was smitten by conviction when he
was on his way to Damascus to persecute
the Christians. He was taken to Damascus
in great distress. Ananias, after hearing of
the concern of mind under which Saul was
laboring, started to find him. It seems that
he was stopping at the house of a gentleman
by the name of Judas, not Judas Iscariot,
for that person had been dead several years.
The residence of this gentleman was in the
street which was called Strait. 1 suppose it
was in the main street, or Broadway of the
city, and hence it was not difficult to find.
Arriving at the mansion, he rang the bell,
and soon a servant made her appearance.—
He addressed her thus :
“ Is the gentleman of the house, Mr. Ju
das, within?”
“ Yes, sir,” responded the servant, “he is
at home.”
Taking out a glazed, gilt-edged card, on
which was printed ‘Rev. Mr. Ananias,’ he
handed it to the servant and said, “ Take
this card to him quickly.”
Taking a seat, with his hat, cane and
gloves in his left hand, his right being em
ployed in arranging his classical curls, so
as to present as much of an intellectual air
as possible, he awaited an answer. Pres
ently Air. Judas makes his appearance,
whereupon Mr. Ananias rises, and making
a graceful bow, says :
“Have I the honor to address Mr. Judas,
the gentleman of the house ? ”
“ That is my name, sir. Please be seat
ed, sir.”
“ I have called. Air. Judas, to inquire if a
gentleman oy the name nr inr. Ysaui, a le
gate of the high priest at Jerusalem, is a
guest at your house.”
“ Yes, sir; Air. Saul is in his chamber,
in very great distress and trouble of mind,
lie was brought here yesterday, having
fallen from his horse a few miles from the
city, on the Jerusalem road.”
“ O, I am very sorry to hear of so painful
an accident. 1 hope he is not dangerously
wounded ? ”
“ No, sir, I think not, though his fall has
affected his sight very much, and he com
plains considerable and prays a good deal.”
“ Well, I am very sorry ; but that is not
very strange, as I believe he belongs to that
sect of the Jews called Pharisees, who make
much of praying. How long since he re
ceived this fall, Air. Judas? ”
“ About three days since, and all the time
he has not taken any refreshment or rest.”
“ Indeed ! you don’t say so ! He must
be seriously hurt. Alay Ibe permitted to
see Al r. Saul ? ”
“ I will ascertain his pleasure, Air. Ana
nias, and let you know if you can have an
interview.”
After being gone a short time, Air. Judas
returns, and says: “Air. Saul will be much
pleased to see you.”
When he is ushered into his presence,
Saul is reclining on his couch in a room par
tially darkened. Approaching him, Ananias
says: “ How do you do, Air. Saul ? lun
derstoud you had done our city the honor
of a visit. Hope you had a pleasant jour
! ney. How did you leave the high priest?
We have very fine weather, Air. Saul. 1
I thought I would call and pay my respects
to you, as I was anxious to have some con
versation with you on theological subjects.
I am extremely sorry to hear of the acci
dent that happened to you in visiting our
city, and ho|>e you will soon recover from
your indisposition.”
Grubner delivered this in his true German
style, acting it all out, as he only could—
and the whole thing was so ludicrous that
it was impossible for the audience to re
press their feelings, and some of the clergy
laughed outright.
Look Upward.—lt is said that the apos
tles “ looked steadfastly towards heaven as
He went up.” Methinks it is so that we
also, as we read or hear this wondrous
event, should fix eye an 1 heart upon that
heaven which He—the first-born—has pre
! occupied, that we should feel that in Him a
portion of ourselves has departed thither, a
sinless type of humanity, which keeps its
place for the rest; and that our heart, in
Christ, being already there, all else should
struggle, with holy impatience,to follow.
Too great earnestness and vehemency,
and too greedy delight in bodily work and
external doings, scatter.eth and loseth the
tranquility and calmness of the mind.
I Live regularly, sociably, humbly : regu
larly, as to yourself; sociably, to - vour
* neighbor ; humbly, as to your (rod.]
NO. 16.
