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THE BAPTIST BANNERS BY DAYTON, ELLS & CO. VOLUME IV. W Bnpiijst >iwf. DEVOTED TO RELIGION AND LITERATURE, Is published every Saturday, at Atlanta, Georgia, at the subscription price of fivb dollars per year. * DAYTON, ELLS & CO., Proprietors. A. C. DAYTON. JAS. N. ELLS. S. D. NILES. ALL WIL.L. BE WELL. (2d Kings, 4 : 26.) Through the love of God our Saviour, All -will be well; Tree and changeless is His favor, All, all is well. Precious is the blood that healed us, Perfect is the grace that sealed us, Strong the hand stretched out to shield us, All must be well. Though we pass through tribulation, All will be well; Ours is such a full salvation, All, all is well. Happy, still to God confiding, Fruitful, if in Christ abiding, Holy, through the Spirit’s guiding, • All must be well. We expect a bright to-morrow. All Avill be well; Faith can sing through days of sorrow, All, all is well; . On our Father’s love relying, Jesus every need supplying, Or in living or in dying, All must be well. ‘ NOTHING TO REPENT OF. Mr. S was the grandson of an exemplary minister, and the son of a dea con who “ magnified his office” for many years, and in a good old age, departed to his rest. Several of the deacon’s children became pious early, one of whom worthily sustained the pastoral office. But the son whose history 1 am about to relate, lived to manhood a cavalier and sceptic; and his entire family were living in the same un belief. The strong hold of this son was outward morality, and a hope founded upon his own imaginary goodness. He was honest, tem perate, industrious, kind to the poor and afflicted, and an habitual attendant upon public worship. But with these commen dable traits as a man and citizen, he doubt ed the "reality of evangelical religion, and < was openly at variance with some of the essential doctrines and precepts of the Gos pel. Confident in his biblical knowledge, and entrenched in his moral creed, he loved to spend hours in debate with any minister or Christian willing to argue with him ; and at the end of each discussion he would fill the heart of a good man with sorrow and despondency in view of his great spiritual blindness. Revivals of religion especially he repudiated as mere human excitements, and injurious in their tendency. 1 had reasoned for several years, at inter vals, with this man of carnal wisdom, and making no reply to his statements, 1 h ir/ him with thii simple question, “It you ever do see a revival which yon think is the work of God, will you try to share its bles sedness?” “Certainly I will,’’ said he. “ Remember, then, this promise,” I replied. In great mercy God took the sceptic at his word. Not long after this interview another revival commenced at such a time, and under such circumstances, that it seem ed especially designed to bring home this erring child of prayer.’ Not only was it a season of declension, but the church and pastor had been for months in a controversy about his dismission. In such a condition of the church “ a season of refreshing” was unthought of; but a work of the Spirit commenced among unbelievers, and moved forward*despite of all obstacles. Being providentially present on a visit, 1j ' met Mr. S on my arrival, and sim- ply asked, “ What do you think of this re ligious excitement ?” “1 confess,” said he, “ I don’t know w hat to make of it. This is something new and unaecotmtable. The church and minister are all in a quarrel, i and the excitement has begun and gone on | without them. It goes against wind and | tide, ami nothing can stop it. This hasn’t been ‘got up;’ I think it must be the work ► of God. < “Not the least doubt of that,” 1 answer ed ; “ but. do you remember your promise ?” “ I expected you would remind me of that: and I have been thinking how to fulfil it. But Ido not find anything to do. You tell me of the happiness of Christians; 1 am as happy as they are. You say 1 must repent,and believe ; I always have believed; and the other day I looked my life all over and I cannot, find anything to repent of. What is there for me to do?” Confounded at such blindness in a man ’ of his intelligence, I could not utter a word J of reply. But after a pause, 1 said, with a depth of feeling that startled him, “ If you examine thoroughly your true character in j the sight of a holy and omniscient God. you will find quite enough to repent of. 1 turned suddenly away, and did not see him for a few days. In the meantime he had become awaken ed to his guilt and ruin. M ith the deepest anguish of spirit, he now asked, “ M hat must Ido ? I find everything to repent of. 1 am the chief of sinners. I ought to be condemned for mv morality, if for nothing else. Depending’on that, I have rejected Christ and his salvation. hat Ido now ? How cum Ibe saved ? . „ , i “By the mercy of God in Christ, 1 an- A BB&S&SOW8 A.HB rAMUbX HJBWSff’AS'SSi. [swered. “You must repent, believe, and ' rely on Christ alone for ‘ w’isdom, righteous ness, sanctification, and redemption.’” Ta king the Scripture for his guide, he began to “work out his own salvation with fear and trembling.” After a few days of sorrow and penitence, Mr. S , early one Sabbath morning, called upon me, requesting a private inter view. He wished to communicate secretly the alarming intelligence that his distress for sin had forsaken him without producing any saving change of character. “ What can 1 do now ?” he said ; “my burden of guil' is «ll gone; and I cannot get it back again. This is wrong, 1 know, and yet I cannot help feeling happy. 1 fear the Spirit has left me; and if so, lam lost forever. It cannot be that 1 have been convicted ; for I could not be born again, and not know it. But don’t say a word of this to any one.” I promised to he silent, but could hardly restrain a smile of joy, to hear the new created man thus speak of the spiritual renovation to him so unsuspected and un known. Urging him to persevere in dutv, 1 left him to make his own discovery; merely remarking, “You have always affirmed that if you should become a Chris tian, you would know it. But you are now led in away that you know not. If you are ever born again, you will find that ‘ old things have passed away, and all things have become new.’” On the following day Mr. S be- came so full of joy that he left his work by the wayside, descending from a tall ladder, to converse w ith any Christian who was passing by. Meeting him at the close of day, I pleasantly remarked, “You charged me to be silent, and yet you tell your expe rience to all you see.” “ How can I help it?” he replied, “thecupjpuns over.” He had in truth become a Ohgistian, and was unspeakably happy. A renovation in a moral man I had never witnessed. Fie was all meekness and love. “Why, those 1 passages that I used to find so much fault w ith are all gone. I cannot find one left in i the Bible. I thought I knew’ everything ini' the Bible, but now any Sabbath-school child j can teach me. I fear I <hall do harm in! trying to do good.” “You will learn fast in the school of; Christ,” I said, in reply, “but you have one , great and immediate duty to do. You know that many, and the young especially, have ! relied on you in their unbelief, and have < said, “ When Mr. S is converted, it 1 will be time enough for us.’” “Oh, yes, hundreds, I fear, have been ruined by my example.” “There is reason to tear,” 1 answered, “and now you must warn them, and labor fur their “ But I cannot speak,” said he, “ in a pub lic meeting.” “ Yes, you can, by the help of the Lord: and you will speak with great effect, too.” The new' convert girded himself to this painful duty. In a crowded evening assem bly, he made confession for his past errors, and uttered the tones of warning with such pathos that every head was bowed, and every eye filled with tears. So the good man entered upon his Christian life, and blessings descended upon his household. 1 He has for some years filled the office left 1 vacant by his venerated father ; and he still 1 remains a pillar in the church. Such is the mercy of a prayer-hearing God to humble, believing, faithful Christian* parents. The sheaves may come late into the garner, bus precious is the hope that ; rests unwaveringly upon Him. ' ■*— ■<■♦♦♦ A* - A Fal tier’s Prayers. “ For my own part,’ says the excellent Mr. Flavel, “ I must profess before the world that I do, from the bottom of my heart, bless the Lord, who gave me a reli gions and tender father, who often poured! I out his soul to God for me. The prayers ( iand blessings left by him before the Lord,; jl esteem above the fairest inheritance on I earth. Oh.it is no small mercy to have ■thousands of fervent prayers lying before the Lord in heaven for us. “ And Oh, that we would all be faithful to this duty. Surely our love, especially to the souls of our relatives, should not grow cold. On that we would this duty in our lives, and if God give us] opportunity and ability, discharge it fully I when we die; considering, as Christ did,] that we shall be no more, but they are in, the midst of a defiled, tempting, trouble-! sotne world—what may befall them, we do not know. Surely, as we are bound to re- I member our relatives every day, and to lay up prayers for them in the time of our J I health, so it becomes us to imitate Christ in our earnestness with God for them whenl |we die. Though we die. our prayers do t j not die with us; they outlive us, and those 1 we leave behind us in the world may reap . the benefit of them when we are turned to] . dust.” I Excellence.—Excellence is never grant ed to man but as the reward of labor. It I argues, indeed, no small strength of mind Ito persevere in habits of industry without j the pleasure of perceiving those advantages . which, like the hands of a clock, whilst they I make hourly approaches to their point, yet , proceed so slowly as to escape observation. ] i Joshua Reynolds. ATLANTA, GA., SATURDAY, OCTOBER 24, 1863. HIS BANNER OVER US IS £OVE. Strength from the Cross. “It is finished!” man of sorrows! From thy cross our frailty borrows Strength to bear and conquer thus. While extended there we view thee, Mighty Sufferer! draw us to thee ; Sufferer victorious! Not in vain for us uplifted, Men of Sorrows, wonder gifted! May that sacred emblem be ; Lifted high amid the ages, Guide of heroes, saints and sages. May it guide us still to thee! Still to thee! whose ko a unbounded Sorrow’s depths for us has sounded, Perfected by conflicts sore. Honored by the cross forever; Star that points our high endeavor, Whither thou hast gone before! Au Incident at Sea. A ship had sailed for a distant shore. It was the first night at sea. The wind had been increasing in fury, until with its accu mulated forces it swept through the masts, as if bent on carrying them with it on its seaward journey. With every lurch the timbers creaked and strained, until the hearts of all the untried sailors within were failing for fear. They had gathered around the well-secured table in the centre of the cabin, and, us was very naturally suggested by their present circumstances, the conver sation turned on storms at sea, shipwrecks, and perilous adventures on that treacherous element. One after another expressed his < pinion as to the greatest cause for tear, or ground for confidence in such circumstances. The first speaker bad met v ith a collision, and barely escaped with life from that source. Another believed the more frequent cause of accident Was from adventuring in unsea worthy vessels. A third of hurri canes which no mortal skill nor science could foresee, nor the strongest constructed craft outride. Another painted a terrible scene which the lapse of years seemed hard ly to have rendered less vivid to his mind’s! eye : a noble ship sailing in company with them was caught between two mountain! icebergs, and crushed like an egg. i’he captain spoke at last, a skilful and weather-beaten mariner: “Twenty-seven years,” said he, “ I have navigated the Atlantic ocean in vessels of all kinds and sizes, and the only danger I fear, and which it is impossible tor human skill to evade, or human power to avert, is lightning. Think of a ship with all its masts pointing to the clouds, like conductors to draw down the deadly fluid into her bosom, with no lofty tree or friendly mountain-top to share the fearful charge; and then the almost! utter impossibility of discovering roherc the 1 fatal bolt has lodged, imcil too late.” He then described, with thrilling minute -| ness, an occurrence of this kind on a voyage from Liverpool to New Y’ork, some years since, when such a discovery was made too late. The lightning had struck in a storm, and the smothered flame had been eating its way in the bottom of the hold, until its ravages had proceeded too far to be arres ted. The helpless living freight had gath ered upon deck, the hatches were battened down, and the pitch boiled up in the seams of the planks. How they watched in agony the distant horizon, upborne on their float ing volcano. How, just as the dread alter native of death by fire or flood seemed nar rowed down to the last moment of choice, a sail appeared, and rescued them from their impending doom. At the close of his narrative, he turned to a lady who had listened in silence. “ You need not fear, madam : no tighter ship than 1 mine skims these waters, and every precau tion in human possibility is taken against lightning and fire.” She replied calmly, “If! <7*cZ not commit -myself to a higher power than human, I should never have been here.” It was a word in season. It reminded all of their true safeguard, and the duty of trusting there only. There was a pause, and all turned-in for the night. Ere the voyage closed, the captain sought the intercession of that Christian female for his own, and especially fur his wife’s con version. “A word fitly spoken is like of gold in pictures of silver.” Ban How to gkt Warmed Up.—Let the pas i tors of our churches visit the army and 1 witness there the religious interest prevail ing. They will do good by such visits to the soldiers, in preaching the word of truth i to them. But they may catch the inspira tion of the army in religious things, and |carry back to their cold flocks at home! sums of the fire that is burning in the hearts of those in the camps and hospitals. This is worthy of a trial. - - I The Chief Learning.—The excellent I Richard Buxter said, if his own heart were ■obedient to his commands, he would lay upon it, among others, the following injunc tion : “ I charge thee tn make the study of Christ, and the great work of man’s redemp tion by him, the chiefest learning, and most serious and constant work; and in that wonderful glass to see the face of Divine love, and to hear what is said of it by the Son from Heaven; and to come boldly as | reconciled to God by him.” THE CHILDREN’S. COLUMN. Ihe following, which was furnished by a highly respected family, we admit into our columns, not as poetry, but as amusement, and perhaps instruc tion, for the juveniles, for whom we delight to labor: Mrs. Grammar’s Bali. Mrs. Grammar once gave a ball To the nine different parts of our speech, To the big and the small, To the shore and the tall; There were pies, plums, and puddings for each. At first little Articles came, in a hurry to make th*emselves known— Fat A, An, and Thee ; But none of the three Could stand for a minute alone. Then Adjectives came to announce That their friends, the Nouns, were at. hand— Rough, Rougher, and Roughest, Tough, Tougher, and Toughest, Fat, Merry, Good-natured and Grand. The Nouns were, indeed, on their way, Tens of thousands, and more, I should think ; For each name that we utter— Shop, Shoulder, or Shutter— Isa Noun : Lady, Lion, and Link. The Pronouns were following, To push the Nouns out of their places— Z, Thou, You, and Me, We, They, He, and She, With their merry, good-humored, old faces. Some cried out, “ Make way for the Verbs!” A great crowd is coming in view— To bite, and to smite, And to light, and to fight, To be, and to have, and to do. The Adverbs attend on the Verbs, Behind them as footmen they ruu— As thus,.“To fliiht badly," Then run away gladly, Show how fighting and running were don®. Prepositions came— ln, by, aud Aw, With Conjunctions, a poor littie hand, As, “ Either yon or me, But neither them nor he”— They held their great friends by the hand. Then with a hip, hip, hurrah ' Rushed in Interjections uproarous- “ 0 dear ! What-a day !' When they saw the display, ‘ Ha ! ha’’ they shouted, ‘ glorious!' alas! whfrt misfortunes were nigh! i While the fun aud the feasting pleased each. There pounced in at once A monster—a Dunce — ! Aud confounded the nine parts of speech ! Help, friend ! to the rescue! On you For aid Noun and Article call; Oh! give your protection To poor Interjection, Verb, Adverb, Conjunction, and all! Brandmu's Story. A great ninny years - ago, when I was a little girl, I started to take a .journey to see my aunt —not in the ears—they had never ! thought of such a thing then—but in the ■stage. Now, 1 felt very proud to be going J away off without papa, or mamma, or nurse Ito take care of me, and only my Uncle Charlie alone, who was a gay. pleasant young man in college. Now I sat snugly tucked beside uncle on the back seat, sitting very straight, and wondering very much in my silly little heaYt if tho gentleman on the front seat would not think 1 was a young lady—father said I was so large of my age —and then more silly, maybe he would think I was grown up, and was Uncle Char lie’s wife. Oh ! how absurd it was, was it not, children, that 1, only nine years old, should have ever thought of such a thing ? My grown-up consequential feelings did not last long, though, for soon the stage stopped, and a very feeble-looking old man, with a little girl, whose hood covered up her whole face, got in. The old man saw’ Uncle Charlie’s pleasant face, and said, “ If you please, sir, take your little girl on your lap, iand 1 will mine. I like to ride on the back seat, the others make me sick.” “ Certain ly, sir.” And my dignity was very sum marily disposed of, by uncle’s lifting me, without another word, into his lap. He only laughed, because he had no little girl, and it was a funny mistake. But I did not laugh. I pouted, and made uncle very uncomfortable with my fidgeting about, and sour, hateful looks. 1 happened to look up in a few minutes, and I saw the child, sit sing in the old man’s lap, and her hood taken off, but her eyes all covered up with a great, thick bandage. Soon she spoke in j I the sweetest voice to the old man, “Grandpa, maybe we could sit somewhere else, and letwthe little girl sit here.” How I w’on dered that she knew I was cross about it, with her eyes all covered up, so she could not see my face, and J had been ashamed to say anything. “ Oh, no !” said I, and for-' getting my ill Igimor in wondering why ' she kept her eyes covered all up that way ( Again I said. “ Please don’t be hurt at | ine, but won’t you tell me what ails your eyes ?” “O, yes,” she said, very sweetly, “ I was coming down stairs with the seis-; sors in my hand, and put my eye out, and j then the other got blind, too. and now’ 1 can ■ never see out of either any more. But 1 j am going to Boston to try and have the; doctor there do something for them, so that ! they won’t hurt me so badly.” My eyes filled with tears for the poor blind girl.— “ Can she never see again ?” said my uncle. “ No, there is no hope of that,” said the old : man, very sadly. "‘Grandpa says I can ’ see when I get to Heaven,” said she, in a ! very low whisper, and looking very cheer -1 ful and bright as she said it. “Is she happy that way,always?” said my uncla.— TERMS— Five Dollars a-year. “Yes, always. Every one calls her ‘ happy Mary.’ ” She got out soon, .said grandma, taking off her spectacles, and even then wiping her eyes, and I never saw her again, but 1 nev er forgot her; but always remembered, when I was inclined to be cross over little things, poor blind Mary, who would never see till she got to heaven ; and yet whom everyone called “ happy Mary.”— Western Churchman. Peter liis own Judge. The following amusing incident, commu nicated to a friend in Roxbury, Mass, occurred in a school in that city : A lad, whom we call Peter, for the sake of a name, ing truant from that school, and wishing an excuse the next day, altered over an old note (which had been used for the same purpose on a former occasion) by expunging the old date and substituting the present. The master immediately detected the trick, and in the presence of the school, impressed upon him the dangerous charac ter of such frauds. He then told Peter that he would leave him in the aisle for half an hour to reflect upon this, and be his own judge as to the punishment due the offense. The half hour having elapsed, the whole school was called to the “ third posi tion”—the attitude of attention—and the teacher said, “ Now, sir, you yourself are the judge in this case; what is your deci sion ?” Peter hesitated a little, then hang ing his head, pronounced, in a whinin* voice, the following impartial verdict: “Why, as it’s the first time, I think you’d better let the poor fellow go!” “ Nice Girls.” To my mind, there is nothing in all the world half so beautiful, half so delightful, or half so lovable, as a “ nice girl.” 1 don’t mean a pretty girl, or a dashing girl, or an elegant girl, but “ a nice girl.” One of those j lively, good-tempered, good-hearted, ! faced, amiable, neat, natty, domestic tures, whom we meet in tfte “ Home,” diffusing Around the’ domestic hearth the iufluence"f her goodness, like the essence of sweet flowers. W hat we all know by a “ nice girl,” is not the languishing beauty who dawdles on a sofa, and talks of the last new novel, or the last new opera; or the great giraffe ; looking girl, who creates an effect by sweep j ing majestically through a drawing room. | The “ nice girl” does not even dance well, or play w’ell, and she does not know a bit how to use her eyes or coquette with a fan. She never languishes ; she is too active for that; she is not given to novel reading, for she is always too busy. And as to the opera, when she goes there she does not think it necessary to show her bare shoul ders, but takes some retired seat without flirting about. It is not in such scenes that we discover the “ nice girl.” It is at Home. Who is it that rises first in the morning and sees that breakfast is ready ? that makes papa’s toast, and prepares ma’s tea, and puts buttons on the boys’ shirts, and waters the flowers, and feeds the chickens, and makes everything comfortable in the par lor t Is it the safe beauty, or the giraffe, or the elegant “accomplished” creature? By no means. It is the “ nice girl.” A Gem from California.—The tongue of childhood, in its earnest and innocum lispings, not unfrequently gives utterance to the most exquisitely poetic expressions, whieh seem to fall from their tiny lips bj inspiiation. A few days ago a bright-eyed little boy in this city, about six years old, retired up stairs to bed, leaving his mother below without the customary good night kiss. As he kissed his father, and hade him good-night he natively said, “ tell mamma good-night for me; 1 forgot to kiss her, but tell her that I hiss her in my heart.’’ Life is a Stormy Ocean.—Over that ocean no being presides but God. He holds the winds in his hand, and can still their howling, and calm the heaving billows. On that ocean the young have just launched their frail bark. Daily will they need pro tection ; daily they will need new supplies ; daily be exposed to the rolling of the bil lows that may engulph them forever. Igno rant, inexperienced, and in danger, they should look to God to guide and guard them. Safe in his hands they will outride • the storm, and come to a heaven of peace. , Getting Rich during the War.—Chro i nology. which # has had many uses, is likely to have yet another. In the •• good time (of peace) coming,” when men I speak «»f the wealth of others, they will ask, how old is it? When was it amassed? And ■ if the answpr be, that they gathered it dtt ; the war, this fact will strip it of all : respectability. To have grown rich in 1862 or ’63 will be accounted a dishonor then. It will pass for robbery of the coun try at large, of the families of soldiers, of the poor. In other words, it will be seew as it is. No disguise will cover it up ; no apology extenuate it. He that by usury and unjust gain increas eth his substance, he shall gather it for him that will pity the poor. NUMBER 48.